Chapter 24: Party Boy — Part 1
Friday night for Ren used to be one where he went out and partied with friends, usually ending up in bed with one, and on really good nights, two or three girls his age. But lately, with Sissy gone, Ren instead chose solitude, in his room, rather than the shallow company of fashion conscious and rebellious young girls who, ultimately, were just looking for a quick fix to sexual frustration and a chance to strike out at their parents and society. Ren lay on his side in his dimly lit room, fixated on a holographic image of Sissy, one he could manipulate so he could see her from all angles, with or without clothes, and in various states of emotion.
One hand touched the scar on his belly, while his fingertips lingered on the sensitive skin associated with regions lower. Sissy lay dormant in her cylander for nearly two months, and Ren still hurt in her absence. She was the one girl he had never kissed. He had taken for granted that Pearl and Sissy would have him in their bed when Sissy was of age to have a child, and had relished in the fact that neither seemed to mind his having other relations in the meantime. Now she had chosen a life with Pearl over a child with him, and even as he climaxed, thinking of what it would have been like to have her as his lover, Ren began to wonder about his own selfish nature, to wonder if maybe he and Sissy were not so different, in regards to love. If he were in love, would he forsake all of his friends and this place and time for that love? Ren couldn’t know for certain, didn’t want to paint himself in such a positive light. The scar on his belly had become a constant reminder that he could bring out the worst in people, that he could hurt others enough that they would not hesitate to hurt him.
Ren heard his door close, though he had never heard it open. He looked up, wondering if he had forgotten to fix the lock, when he saw the lock reset itself from the outside. Putting a small cloth in a clothes hamper set at the end of his bed, Ren forced himself upright and walked to the door, pausing only to put on a robe before looking both ways down the hall. He thought he saw Kamau, some distance off, turn to a flight of stairs that would lead down to the manor’s massive first floor. Pulling his robe tight to cover him while the swelling went down, Ren followed the almost ghostly half-sighted hume to the stairs. Then, since the stairs only allowed easy travel in one direction, he followed them to the ground floor, where he had to choose between walking to the study, the garden, or the kitchen. Ren opted for the study, figuring he could circle through the garden to the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before giving up the search.
He found himself distracted by the smoke-stained fountain, repaired of damage from the attack, but still in need of cleaning. He had never noticed before, but the sculptures of children cast in bronze and playing around the edges were actually sculpted in the likeness of the children living in the manor. Ren stared at his own youthful visage, holding a massive larval salamander over his head, the salamander spitting water into the pond. Nearby was Sissy with her spitting fish, older and more mature than the others, and across from her was Toni, pugnacious to a fault with a turtle sitting on top of her head. Finally, as he walked around the fountain from his own sculpture, Ren’s eyes fell on Kamau’s sculpture, who held a frog over his head, and he remembered, after several minutes of distraction, staring at the fishes, turtles, salamanders, and frogs living in the pond, why he had come down from his bedroom in the first place.
He headed to the kitchen, pausing at the door. He looked through the window set in the frame, saw nobody in the kitchen, and so went half-heartedly back to his room. In his mind he had been too late. In his mind a moment had been lost due to his distraction. Touching the scar on his belly, he wondered how many deeper experiences had been lost solely because he had been distracted. Ren closed the door to his room and lay, for many hours, staring at the ceiling. The weekend still young, he would be unable to relax and enjoy it. Sleep took him in fits, between which were dreams filled with self-loathing and regret.
