Joseph Fink - Welcome to Night Vale

The man shrugged again.

“I didn’t know what Josh looked like. He could have been anything. So I gave the paper to as many people as I could, hoping that one of them eventually would be him. None of them ever were. That’s when I decided that, as much as I didn’t want Diane knowing about this, I would have to get close to her and see if she would give Josh the paper.”

“So you understood that what you were doing was wrong?” Diane said.

“If you had just given that paper to him, it would have stuck. But you tried to keep it from him. Or maybe you just didn’t remember that you had it. I should have made it so you couldn’t get rid of it, but then you wouldn’t have been able to give it to Josh, and anyway I’m just a mayor of what is, after all, only a small town. I can’t think of everything.”

The flies buzzed sympathetically. Or that was their intention. It sounded no different than the rest of their buzzing.

“Mom.” Josh put a tentacular arm around Diane. “I want to stay. I want to help. It’s not dangerous. It’s a chance for me to meet my dad, to talk to him. I can really help these people.”

“Josh, we’re leaving. We will talk about your father later.”

“This town needs me to stay. Mom, I—”

“No,” said Jackie. “No. They just need one of Troy’s kids to stay. And we have another one of those. Troy’s my father too.”

Diane and Josh and the man in the tan jacket all turned to face her. Even the flies stopped flying, landing on the closest surface and turning to face her.

“You?” said the man.

“Anything you could learn from Josh, you could learn from me. And if you’re not putting me in some lab, I don’t mind helping you. You’re not like a mad scientist, right? This is just a research project?”

“Jackie, no.”

“Diane, yes. Josh has you and you have him. You are a family. What do I have? Years of repetition and a mother I can barely remember. This is no better, but this is no worse, and if I keep your family together, then at last I’ll have done something that isn’t running a pawnshop. Take Josh, okay? Take your son and leave.”

Diane did not want to do that. She saw the waver in Jackie’s posture, the way she leaned her hand on the wall. She was not well, and she needed Diane to help her. They needed each other. But there was Josh. And as much as she loved, and maybe she did, maybe she loved Jackie, she loved Josh more.

Dusk had turned to night, and the cheap overhead lighting in the office accentuated the unimpressive realness of this man’s life: his ballpoint pens, his worn-out coat (probably one of only a couple of jackets he owned), the chipped paint on the walls, the wrinkles streaking out from his eyes and nose.

Diane felt herself at that very moment getting a thick piece of skin removed from her back. The doctor was taping the wound closed and telling her to come back for results next week. Diane felt herself filling out a pet adoption form at a shelter. Diane felt herself falling off a ladder. She felt herself riding an elevator. She felt herself living in a moon colony hundreds of years in the future. She felt so many of her, but still she was alone with this decision.

“I’m young, yes,” said Jackie, “but I’m also much older than you can imagine, Diane. I’m older than I can imagine. I have all the time in the world. I’ll continue being nineteen with no connections, no one to give me a reason to grow a day older. I have a mother who will miss me, sure, but she already saw me through childhood. You need to have the same chance. You need to help your son be a better man than his father.”

Josh opened his mouth to protest.

“Josh, I get it, man, I do,” Jackie said. “I grew up without a father, same as you. But you will have time. Later, after your mother has finished what she needs to do. The next time you see me, maybe you and I will be the same age, and we can have this talk again. I’d like that.”

Diane turned to her, but before their eyes met, Diane saw the window. The night reflected everything in the room back at her. There was a woman in the window, translucent and warped, wearing what she was wearing, standing the way she was standing, making the same small movements she was making, and looking deep into her eyes. She did not recognize the woman in the window, even though she had seen her many times.

“You know I’m right,” Jackie said.

“I’ll accept whatever decision you make,” said the mayor in the tan jacket. “Either one is fine with us. You just have to make a choice.”

Diane put her hand out to Jackie, who took it. Jackie was crying, but calm. She accepted what would have to happen next. Diane did not break eye contact with the woman in the window.

“No,” Diane said, “I don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” the man said. “Yes you do, get on with it please.”

“This is not about King City and it’s not about Troy’s children. It’s about Troy. He has infected King City with our town’s weirdness.”

“Asshole.”

“Exactly, Jackie. What an asshole. And what an asshole this guy is.” She pointed at the asshole in the tan jacket.

He seemed much taller than before. His flies spread out behind him, an angry, buzzing aura.

“You must choose,” he roared. “You must choose who will stay, or I will choose for you.”

“You’re not staying here,” she said to Jackie, ignoring him, “and Josh is not staying here.”

Jackie nodded. “You’re right. It’s not our fault. It’s not us should be solving these problems. It’s time for Troy to do it.”

“And Troy’s not staying here. It’s time for Troy to go home.”

“Damn right it is.”

“Stop talking and choose which child,” the man shouted. No one was listening.

“I met a group of him at the bar. Good a place to talk to him as any.”

“Then let’s go.” The woman in the window walked away, but Diane did not move. She had a sudden moment of doubt. What if she was wrong? What if she was making a mistake? Her reflection was gone and she still could not move. And then she felt Jackie take her hand.

“I’m with you,” Jackie said gently. “Let’s go.” She hooked her injured arm through Josh’s tentacular arm and led them both out the door and back up the hall.

The man in the tan jacket followed them into the hallway.

“Where are you going? Come back here at once.” The flies buzzed around him. None of the three looked back, and the buzzing grew faint as they pushed open the front door into the dusty night air.

“You must choose. You must choose,” said a distant voice, and then the door closed and it was silent once again.

“Troy,” Jackie shouted.

“Get out here right now, Troy,” Diane shouted.

The first Troy who emerged from the bar was the one with the shiner, bloomed now to violet. He looked dazed, possibly concussed.

Jackie held the door open and ushered them all out, helping with a pull on the sleeve or a shove on the shoulder in case any of them hesitated. Some were wobbly from the beer. Others strong and chipper and ready to drive home. Troy Walsh was prepared for all contingencies. Troy Walsh was confused about what was happening.

“Troy. Get out here. Come on.” Jackie herded them all outdoors.

Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man. Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man who is many men. They all look like the same man because they all are the same man, have always been the same man. Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man who could fix your car and file your taxes and mix you an intoxicating cocktail and paint your miniature collectibles.

Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man born with the ability to be all things to all people but nothing to any one person. Imagine the look on his face when he steps out of a bar, a multitude of him, and sees the woman he, for a short time, always loved fifteen years ago.