Haley Thistle
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Demon Boyfriend: Jolly Jay 2 (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-04-03 20:00:59 +0000 UTCThe Jolly Jay Smile Hour was one of the highest rated programs on the radio. Jay’s soothing voice was a welcomed presence into most people’s lives. I was even aware there were GIU cabinet members who listened in on the show. In fact, I was made very aware of which ones listened to the broadcasts. Thanks to the new equipment that Jay was updated with quite regularly, he was reaching a wider audience, and more GIU loyalists were tuning in to listen to his message of happiness and smiles.
Jolly Jay was your friendly neighbor, he always started and ended his shows by saying that. But as someone who does live in close proximity to Jay, even if I do like him, I am aware of the nefarious nature that he and his cohorts are embroiled in. They don’t seem to really want to spread the message that Jay puts out everyday, hence the scripts he’s sent in his packages every morning. But that’s just the thing, the cynic side of me buried beneath the masks and fake smiles loves this. The lilac and yellow suits have brought me into their world, and I like it. I try to keep my head above their murky waters for my own sake, but because I am ‘the Keeper’, I wield power and authority over them as well. I just try to keep my nose out of whatever business they are up to.
I still enjoy my friendship with Jay. We have long conversations after his broadcasts. I even have a table set up near his door so I can have meals with him. He’s told me that, out of all the keepers he has had, the bond he feels with me is deeper than all the others. The lilac and yellow suits have placed him with others over the years, experimenting with who best suits him should he ever need to be held, as he coins it. He said in the beginning, back when the GIU was taking power after the witch hunts, he was often placed with men, who barely spoke to him. After war broke out, he was placed with a female secretary under his old keeper, and they formed a bond. He was also placed with a young girl at one point as an experiment, and it was finally figured out he bonded well with women. Although they still used men for him mostly.
Why I was chosen was still a mystery to me. Perhaps it was because of my home and massive basement. Maybe my family had connections to this lilac and yellow suit organization. Like I said, I wasn’t going to put my nose too far into this. I just wanted the surface level of everything.
One afternoon, I was working with Matilda on fixing up one of the rooms. I had just rented it to a lovely couple and a few of their friends, but they left it in such a state they purchased me a new mattress and frame before they checked out. Anyways, I was helping Matilda with that while listening to Jay’s show.
“Now, for today’s poetry reading.” Jay always did a poetry reading during his broadcasts, as part of the happiness and wellness position that was required by GIU law. “I’ve never seen my lover’s gaze as she weeps with-” The broadcast cut out, Jay’s voice crackled and vanished amongst the blurt of static and feedback. Between the squeals, I thought I heard Jay continuing with something. Matilda eventually turned it off and sniffed.
“It happens. Sometimes a drone just flies into things,” she scoffs.
I tried to focus so I could hear Jay downstairs, but between Matilda sweeping and the old hardwood floors, everything was silent. I went back to putting the bed together and Matilda dumped disinfectant onto the floor.
After we were done, I went to my room to clean up from the sweaty work. I turned on the radio to hear Jay purring back into the mic. “Thank you all for your lovely mail this week. I do enjoy reading your letters, and I love seeing how happy you all are to enjoy the show. I am thrilled that I can pass that joy back to you through my broadcasts. But I must speak of something serious right now.”
I glance at the radio as I mop up my face with a cold, damp cloth. Something serious? How odd.
“As some of you may be aware, this coming Sunday is the anniversary of when I started broadcasting my program! So all this week, I will be planning out very special programming to be showing my appreciation to all of you. Hopefully, we will all be better people by the end of the week. I am very grateful to all of you for letting me be your neighbor.”
That evening, when I go down for our meal together, he is already waiting for me. The latch is open and he waves his long, strange fingers to me. “Good evening, Imelda.”
“Good evening to you.” I hand him his plate of food. “I wasn’t aware it was your anniversary this week. You’ve never announced that before.”
“So you heard.” He pulls in his plate.
“I did! Congratulations, how many years has it been?” I sit down at my little table with my plate.
“As Jolly Jay? Far too long,” he chuckles.
My brow purses for a moment. I wonder if he’s used another persona before. “I never got to hear the poem today, though, and that’s usually my favorite part. What happened? It sounded like something with the equipment went wrong.”
I can hear Jay’s tray clatter inside his room. “I can read it to you now, if you like.”
“The poem? Yeah, that would be nice.” I was kind of more curious about the technical difficulty, as it was the first I’d heard from his show. But the poem would probably be better.
Jay clears his throat. “I’ve never seen my lover’s gaze as she weeps with joy from summer days. Although she brings me thoughts I love, she’ll never-” He stops suddenly and sighs. “This is trite.”
“What? No, go on!”
“I am serious.” There goes that serious tone again. “You know there is better poetry out there instead of this love and happiness shit.” He then chuckles. “Actually, I have been meaning to share something with you.”
“Really?” I get up to approach the door where his empty plate and tray sit. I always wonder how he eats so fast. He then holds out a small book to me. “Have you ever heard of Keats?”
I take the book, seeing that the cover is faded from years of use, the spine is frayed at the top and bottom. Inside some pages have been taped back together, and many pages are marked and dogeared. “He’s on the banned list.” All my life, all I ever wanted was books to line my walls. But over the years, more and more books in the world have been banned and placed onto the registry by the GIU. I only have a small few, and most of them have been written by GIU loyalists to fit their beliefs, to suit their smiles.
“Who isn’t?” Jay chuckles. “In there, you’ll find real poetry. Poetry I love. Words that have meaning.”
“How long have you had this?” I ask.
“Too long,” Jay sighs. “Far too long.”
I glance through the pages until I see a date printed near the back. “That’s strange,” I murmur. “This book was printed ten years after the ban registry was created. That would be impossible.”
“What makes you say that?”
“This book couldn’t have been printed,” I murmur. “All works were destroyed so there is no way-” I stop and close the book so I no longer have to focus upon the date. “How did you get this?”
“I brought it from home.”
I use my key to open the top window of the door and already he is bent down looking through it. That bright yellow mask with that garish grin painted upon it peers at me. “You know I hate prying, Jay.”
“I do. You’ve kept your nose clean for a keeper. Most usually succumb to the mystery,” he chuckles. “Read that book, though. Ignore the date. Just imagine what it would have been like to read this in school.”
“What else do you have in there?” I ask.
“Whatever I need.” He reaches through the bottom window and touches my hand. “Except for you.”
I give him a harsh look. “You can do better than that.”
He breaks into a laugh. “I thought it would be romantic.”
I smile softly at him, taking his hand and brushing my fingers against his palm. “I have the keys to open this door anytime, Jay.”
“I know, and that gives me hope. But that is just the Pandora's box I do not want to open, my Imelda.”
I frown. “Who is Pandora?”
Jay sighs heavily. “One second.” He leaves briefly, returning with another book for me. “It is the third chapter, but I suggest you indulge in mythology as much as the poetry. Both are beautiful and full of hidden meanings.”
“I know that you’re full of them, that’s for certain.” I take the book and smile at him. “Thank you. Hopefully I’ll enjoy this.”
“I know that you will.”
That evening I lay in bed with the books. First checking the print date of the mythology book and finding it was also printed far after the ban registry. Was there an illegal press somewhere run by the lilac and yellow suits? That would be the logical thought. But why print the dates? It made so sense to me. There was also the thought that, perhaps, they were out of time. Jay was so strange, what if this wasn’t his world exactly?
I decide that reading it is better than lingering on this. I find the Pandora’s Box myth, in which a young woman was given a jar containing sickness, death, and other evils of the world inside. She was convinced to open the jar, as she was plagued by the mystery of what was inside. When she opened the jar all the contents spilled out, save one. Hope remained inside, although the word had been scratched out and written above it was ‘deceptive expectation’. Did Jay consider himself to be hope, or a deceptive expectation? Perhaps he was the last remaining piece inside the jar. I flipped through the book and came upon a page covered in eyes. The chapter was titled ‘Argus Pantopes’. Eyes were drawn all over every page. They were quite distressing to see after a while, so I closed the book back.
I fall asleep that night, but the eyes follow me there. They’re all around me, unblinking. They form a long hallway for me to go down. I walk slowly and pupils dilate, fixated upon me as I walk. They squint and roll around, but never do they close. I can sometimes hear their wet sockets clicking as they turn to follow me. I grit my teeth and stiffen my jaw like always. They can’t see me frown, but I do not wish to smile. I then reach the end of the hall and a giant eye opens before me. I feel sick looking at it. The pupil opens up and, from inside, a jar falls out and rolls to my feet. The jar rattles and whispers to me with different voices, asking me to pick them up. The giant eyes stare back at me and I hear something breathe all around me.
I wake with a start, hearing the emergency intercoms blaring from outside. GIU Majority cabinet leader, Samuel Greene, has died and mourning hours will be allowed to honor his loss. I slouch back in bed, taking a deep breath. Good riddance, I think. If more of those GIU people die, the better.
It isn’t long before the world is whispering about his death. Some suspect he has gone into hiding, others claim that he was murdered. I know it is easy to fall into the trap of believing such things. It’s fun to speculate. But there is no way he could have been murdered, he’s far too protected. He was one of the most unreachable men on the planet. Hiding was plausible, but that begged more questions to be asked.
I deliver Jay his meal and place the book of mythology there as well. “Did you enjoy reading it last night?”
“I liked understanding what you were telling me, but they gave me nightmares,” I confess.
“They?”
I frown, not liking to admit this. “The chapter covered in eyes bothered me.”
“I see.” He takes the book. “I am sorry it reached you in an unfavorable way. Perhaps another time you can try it.”
“I’m still reading the poetry. I’d prefer to focus on it anyways.” I then decide to bring up the news about GIU leader Greene. “Did you hear who died?”
“I did,” he says dismissively. “I’m surprised they announced it so soon.”
“So soon?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
He chuckles. “Nothing. I just thought they liked to keep these things under their hats until they could proceed.”
“I suppose I’ll be dedicating a block of my broadcast to him,” he sighs. “Pity. I do so hate talking about dead old men.”
“Who doesn’t?” I watch the door closely, almost expecting eyes to open up.
“Is there anything else, Imelda?” He asks.
“Lots of things,” I murmur. “But the water is too deep for me right now.”
“I am always here for you,” he says. “You do not need to worry about drowning. You are my keeper.”
I walk silently away, still bothered by my dream, haunted by the eyes. I go back upstairs where I can hear mourning music playing through the intercoms outside. At least I don’t have to smile while they play. That’s probably the best thing to come out of today.
I close down for the day in a show of respect, but really, I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I sit down in my room and turn on the radio, hoping to drown out the sound of the mourning music.
“-and taking that into account, let us begin our day, dear neighbors. I know we have all been made aware of the sad news early this morning. My heart goes out to the family and colleagues of Leader Greene. His hard work and dedication to the Government of Immaculate Unity has been nothing but inspirational. His presence will be surely missed, as will his-'' The radio crackled again, popping and clicking as it faded in and out of signal. Jay’s voice became distorted and morphed. There was a sound like screaming in the background, some interference, I am sure.
I go downstairs to see if there was something wrong, perhaps something I could help fix outside. As I came to his door, though, there was no sound. I could sometimes still hear him talking, even through the floor during his broadcasts. Yet there is no sound from his room. I open up the top window with my keys and when I peer inside, his room is empty. I hear the static of the radio hiss, burbles of frequencies fading in and out. I stood on tiptoe so I could see into the room better. Turning my head this way and that, I saw a small picture of the basement. I could see part of his work area, his desk and microphone. I saw the foot of his bed, blankets thrown over the end. I saw his yellow suit hanging on the back wall as if he was standing there.
“Hello?” I whisper into the room. “Jay?” The radio hisses.
I take my keys, never using them except for that one window, and I turn the locks for the very first time. The door opens with a gentle push and I step inside his room. I hold my breath as I stand there in the doorway. His work station, which I couldn’t see through the window, is empty. All the equipment is against the far wall, with wire leading to his desk which not only has a mic, but other buttons, knobs, and things, including his mask.
His bed is destroyed. Blankets and pillows are strewn about on top of it while the mattress looks clawed and shredded on the surface. There is a chest beside it with books laid about the bottom. His suit which hung on the back wall looked like he was floating there. The bright yellow against the dark gray walls also reminded me of the sun rising from the sea. My chest was trembling, nervous that I could get caught. But where was he? There was no possible way for him to leave this room.
I approach his desk, moving aside his chair as I stand over it. His mask smiles up at me with that wicked grin. His script lay under it, but I felt afraid to touch the mask. I pull the script out, letting the mask clatter onto the table. The front page looks normal, although there is some writing on the page I can’t read. Inside I see the eyes scribbled along the margins. The script read exactly as he had gone about it, even the impromptu announcement of Leader Greene’s death. But it was only announced this morning and the script had been delivered earlier than that. Underneath it there is a small series of code, and looking at the keyboard on his desk, I see that the code matches buttons found there.
I set the script down, placing it back while moving the mask back over it. I’ve gotten too deep, I warn myself. Go now, get out of the water. I turn to leave when the radio crackles and pops again.
“Sorry for the disruption, ladies and gentleman and everything in between. We’re going to take a small break to fix it and we will be right back to finish our tribute to Leader Greene. Thank you for your understanding.”
I stand there, between the door and his voice, unable to turn and look back. There’s a click and Jay’s chair squeaks as he moves it back. I count each footstep as it approaches me before his hands rest upon my shoulders.
“You’re drowning,” he whispers into my ear.
I am here already, I think to myself, might as well. I look over my shoulder to see the eyes staring at me. “Thank god you’re here.”
His hands squeeze down upon my shoulders. “Where else would I go?”
