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feverinfeveroutfic · 6 months

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hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter nine: “Red Sky at Night” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: first night, menorah, candles, shamash, oil, light in the dark 🔥 Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

Though I still yearned for her touch, I was more than eager to head on out for some takeout and then a return to the house for the rest of the night. Granted, we had to move rather quickly given the flood waters outside of the house rushed along the sidewalks and overflowed the storm drains. But through the light of the porch light, I could tell that it wasn't as bad as I had suspected. It was merely a great deal of runoff that ran the other way, barring none of us actually hesitated in the storm drain for longer than a minute.

Christine and I took to the back seat of the car with her grandmother while her grandfather and Wendy took to the front. It reminded me of all the times we went out for Chinese food when I was a little kid at Christmas, and my brother and I cozied down together with someone, be it one of our aunts, our own grandmother, or one of our cousins. I gazed out the window and the little rivulets that ran down from the roof of the car, and I looked on at the porch light, which her grandparents apparently left on the day before when they had gone down to Carson City.

A light that never went out.

I hunkered down in the backseat with them and with my hands tucked into my pockets to better feel the warmth of my own body. Just one last bit of warmth before we made a huge splash into the storm drain at the bottom of the driveway.

“Wow, that's a lot of water!” Wendy declared.

“But at least we cleared it, though,” Christine’s grandfather pointed out as he shifted it into drive, and we rolled down the street.

No sooner had we reached the next corner up ahead when I could feel the twinges of hunger hit me like a baseball bat. I shifted my weight in the seat next to Christine, who kept her hand rested upon her knee. Her pinky finger was dangerously close to the side of my own thigh.

A part of me wanted her to touch me even with her grandmother right next to us just to show that we could have some fun even if it meant putting restraints on ourselves. In fact, I took a glimpse at her with nothing more than my eyes, and she turned her head a bit towards me so our eyes locked.

While the adults in the car were paying more attention to the rain and the drenched streets before us, we had a small pocket alone to ourselves. I glanced down at her hand rested there and right as she moved her pinky and ring fingers onto my own knee.

I knew it wasn't going to last, especially since as far as I knew, anyway, I could be going back home by tomorrow and I knew in my heart that I couldn't keep it up with her. But it still felt good to me, and I knew that it felt good to her as well.

Christine showed me her tongue and flashed me a wink, highlighted by the low light in the car. I cracked her a smirk and puckered my lips to her all merely to tease her in return. I gave my hair a toss with the flick of my head and she let out a nearly silent whistle as she turned her attention away from me and to the windshield.

Every now and again, her grandfather flashed a glimpse into the rear view mirror, such that I could see his bespectacled eyes in the reflection, and I was glad that we kept our hands firmly buried in the shadows. No way we were going to let anyone in that car know about us, or the fact that she liked to touch me. If only I could encapsulate my own baffling feelings as they swirled and whirled every which way and if only I could better explain the fact that she had a crush on me and I was thinking some things about her as well. But I couldn't: I could only ride the wave where it took me, and I could only relish the fact that my body was being loved and in a way that I wanted so much, even if it made me the one who rolled around in his own filth.

I was starting to get the belly of a chubby little piglet, anyway. I may as well relish the opportunity.

Soon, the red neon lights of the Chinese restaurant entered our view and I could hardly keep it in a second longer. I had barely eaten anything all day long, and I was eager to sink my teeth into orange chicken, beef with vegetables, and some spring rolls as well. Christine’s grandfather took to the spot a mere short walk away from the warmly lit front door, and I was amazed that the parking lot hadn't overflowed with more shallow flood waters.

“Okay, now the big question,” he started again as he tugged on the parking lever. “Which of us should go in? Because we're only getting the food and then going back home, I don't really want to eat in tonight.”

“I'll go,” Wendy volunteered.

“I'll come with you,” I joined in, as I unbuckled my seatbelt. It wasn't because I wanted to get away from Christine, but I didn't want to see Wendy go in there alone, especially after what her husband did to her and to me, too.

I climbed out and adjusted the lapels of my jacket, which was useless given the rain pattered down on my head like the biggest wet blanket ever. I closed the door and tried to not splash on the blacktop so much as I caught up with Wendy there under the awning.

“You okay?” she asked me over the roar of the rain.

“Oh, yeah. It's just—you know. Cold and wet.”

“Cold and wet and coming down in droves!”

I held the door for her and she bowed inside before me; I hung right behind her, and I ran my hands over the crown of my head. It wasn't that wet, such that I needed a towel, but wet enough to where my roots were already soaked.

We found ourselves in a cozy, brightly lit room lined with those dragons and fine porcelain; I lifted my arm up away from the lucky cat right by the door lest I knock it over. Oh, that fine silvery paint job with the red and black lining took me back to those nights as a kid eating Chinese food. Though my hair was wet, the mere sight of the golden light in the restaurant was enough to warm me up; I stood there next to Wendy, who hunkered closer to me as if to take in my own warmth for the time being. The golden light with the red paint job only made me hungrier the more that I dwelled on it. One of the waiters walked on by with a platter filled with egg rolls, fried rice, and kung pao.

It all smelled so good! And it all looked so good, such that I had a thought that I could eat all of the spring rolls in there if I wanted to.

“God, it smells wonderful in here,” Wendy said as she took a menu for us to look over together. “What should we have? This is going to be on me and my parents again, too, so—you can have whatever you like, Alex.”

“Ooh, I love my spring rolls,” I told her. “I like kung pao, too.”

“Wow, I haven't had kung pao chicken since Christine was born,” she confessed. “I completely forget how spicy it is, too.”

“It's not spicy if you avoid the chilis,” I pointed out to her, to which she chuckled.

“Okay, so spring rolls, wonton soup, orange chicken, kung pao, beef and veggies, and—fried noodles or fried rice?” she suggested.

“Fried noodles,” I said. “I like fried rice but now that you mention it, gimme some big noodles.”

“And that's all gonna be enough?”

“That sounds like a Skolnick family picnic to me,” I joked, and she giggled at that. “Really, we like going out on Christmas or one of the eight nights and getting a bunch of takeout like that. A bunch of takeout after a night we have brisket, no less.”

And it was a lot bigger than I was used to or what I had imagined for that matter as after we had thanked the kind people in there, we headed out of there with six bags, two in either of my hands and the wontons and rolls in her hands. I gave the two in my left hand over to Christine before I climbed in, and no sooner had I tucked the other two between my legs and buckled in when her grandfather fired up the car again.

“Good job, good job,” he told us as we pulled out of there.

“Oh, my god, that smells amazing,” Christine herself remarked.

“Yeah, I think I got my kung pao down here with me,” I said with a shiver and a gentle rub of my stomach. “I am so hungry to say in the least.”

And indeed, the ride back to the house proved to be a lot longer than the ride to the restaurant: the rain seemed to pick up the pace and there was a lot more water in the street from what I remembered. Or maybe it was because I was hungry.

Either way, every second away from the house proved to make me feel even more and more eager to have a bite of the spicy chicken nestled right between my legs. The clouds thickened and hung down even lower in all of their darkness right outside of the windshield, and I leaned back in the seat again and closed my eyes.

A hug from my mom. That was all I could think about once again, a hug from my mom and one from my dad, too.

I opened my eyes right as I felt her fingers on my leg again. I looked over at her with nothing more than my eyes, and Christine once again showed me the tip of her tongue. I squinted my eyes and puckered my lips again at her, to which she mouthed something to me right then.

I raised my eyebrows at her, but before she could repeat it, we rounded a corner and the porch light perforated the thick, menacing, low hanging clouds.

There was a light that never went out, and I saw it.

Her grandfather bounded into the driveway, and once again, with a huge splash from the river in the storm drain, but at least we made it back home.

We all climbed out of the car and rushed up to the front step: I was so eager that I reached the screen door and nearly lost my balance. Luckily, I caught myself right as her grandfather scurried up to me with the key to the house in hand. Once he had unlocked the door, I did not hesitate for a second. Wendy and Christine were right behind as I ducked into the kitchen and set the kung pao and the other bag in my hand on the table: they joined me, and soon the whole table was covered. I couldn't hardly handle it as I made my way to the upper cabinet for some plates.

“My goodness, so hungry!” her grandmother declared as she joined us in there.

“I really am!” I said with triumph and a plate in hand to her.

I could not be more excited to have some of that kung pao, either, from the nuts to the fact that it was more sweet than spicy—in fact, it was just the right amount of spicy. To have that plus the noodles and the rolls, followed by some vegetables, there in the living room as we lit up our makeshift menorah with the long match and the shamash again: I was happier than a pig in shit to say in the least.

“Would you dears like some coffee or tea?” Christine’s grandmother offered as she walked into the kitchen.

“I would love some tea,” I told her. “It would kind of... tie everything together.”

“I'd like some tea, too, Grandma,” Christine joined in.

“Count me in, too,” Wendy chimed in, and then they turned to me.

“Could you play us something, Alex?” Christine suggested. “You know, after we eat and all.”

“I'd love to,” I replied as I picked up some more noodles.

“You know, I know we have the power back on and all, but I really would like to watch you, too, though,” Wendy added.

“I think we all would love to see Alex play something, Mom,” Christine pointed out. “At least before he goes back home tomorrow.”

“You really think the airport's gonna be open tomorrow?” I asked her.

“It's totally possible,” she replied with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Everything flows downhill and it hasn't been that cold today, either.”

“True. Well…” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I'm gonna need some wonton soup to fuel me, though. I can't really focus on anything unless I'm sober or I got my belly full.”

“You and me both,” she said, and I swore she flashed me a wink right in front of her mother and her grandfather.

I helped myself to a cup of tea and a bowl of the soup before I headed back into the guest room for my guitar and my amplifier: I knew that it was raining hard enough that the noise level would remain in check in there, but then again, I knew how to keep it down. Or at least I was learning how to keep it all down.

I carried both into the living room and plugged in my amp behind the television. A few turns of the dials and I kept the volume and the level of distortion both down low.

“Oh, my,” her grandmother declared with a hand to her chest.

“Mr. Rockstar,” Wendy remarked with a chuckle.

“This was a song that I wrote with my band when we were first starting out,” I explained, nonplussed. “It's actually a very hard and fast song and sounds a million times better on an electric guitar, but... I reckon I'm going to slow this one down and jazz it up and make it nice and spooky for the first night. So, if you all don't mind, I would like some straight darkness in here.”

“I'll get the lights,” Christine volunteered, and she reached over and switched off the lamp next to the couch. Darkness surrounded us and I hunkered down by the door to the kitchen so I could have the best acoustics. It wasn’t going to be very loud but I needed to set a mood of sorts.

“I've got the kitchen,” Wendy added; soon the entire front part of the house was again engulfed in darkness, but this time with the makeshift menorah still alight on the hearth. I once again caught a view of the flickering candlelight on the bricks for that same effect as before.

“What's this song called, son?” Christine’s grandfather asked me.

“It's called 'Alone in the Dark.' A few years back, I watched a Miles Davis concert on TV and I knew I had to branch out from there and kinda… work some ‘mad science’ onto this one little number.”

The flickering light of the candles by the fireplace danced around the room like the tapestry of lights at a big metal concert. With the rain on the roof and the fact that Hanukkah had started without me over in New York, I really was alone in the dark right then. As my fingers glided over the strings and I locked eyes with Christine, I realized that I wasn’t. I had the candles to light my way, the flame of her short red hair to bring me back home, and the weave of the family before me as my temporary safety net. It also helped that they didn’t help their Christmas tree up as of yet, and yet I didn’t really care.

It was a touch difficult to do the train of the music without Chuck’s vocals or Lou’s drumming, but I had done it once before at a quicker clip and I was doing it there for the family. Light and elegant in comparison to the original version by Testament, which would perhaps drive these parents up the wall in an utter rage. It usually did, but it looked as though they were enjoying it.

Alone in the dark, but not entirely at that point. I had made a connection with the four of them there while the darkness remained over us.

A light in the darkness.

“That’s beautiful, son,” Christine’s grandfather confessed to me at one point. “It reminds me of a dark forest.”

“A dark forest of nightmares,” Christine herself added.

“We were alive during World War Two,” her grandmother explained, “and the thought of people fleeing from Europe still comes to mind when I think about it, too.”

“Years of horror only to hope for the light of day to surface again,” I said to her as I broke into my reinvention of the solo with nothing more than the edge of the pick and my index finger. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m doing this with nothing more than my fingers and without my metronome.”

“You have a metronome?” Christine asked me, slightly intrigued.

“Absolutely, I don’t go anywhere without it. But I wanted to flex a little.”

“Flex those fingers and those iron-clad arms of yours,” Wendy remarked with a slight flick of her eyebrows.

I reached the end of my solo and launched into the main melody of the song once again. It was right then I yearned for a glass of wine at my side. The tea proved to be enough for me, but the mood needed some more depth to it, the taste of the grapes on my tongue and the loose feeling within me.

But I reached the end of the song and the four of them treated me to some applause.

“Beautiful!” Wendy declared. “We should do this every year.”

“Fly from the Bay Area with a stopover here in Reno just prior to the first night of Hanukkah? It could work.” I shrugged my shoulders and showed her a smile. I tucked the pick into the strings at the neck and set the guitar down on the floor next to me. “I’ll be right back, I have to use the bathroom.”

I stood to my feet and wandered back down the hallway to the bathroom. Christine’s voice caught my attention before I shut the door, and I lingered before the bowl for a quick fix.

Once I was done and I washed my hands, I stepped back out of there, only to be greeted by her hands on my chest and her face before my own.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispered to me.

“Of course,” I whispered back, and she pressed her lips to my own. Christine moved with such firmness and conviction against me, and yet she touched me so gently that a shock of a chill shot up and down my spine like the pull of a zipper. She let go and gazed into my eyes with a soft whimper emitted from her lips.

“Wow,” I breathed. “So good.”

“Hot?” she whispered to me.

“Quite. Hotter than the kung pao, if I’m honest.” I ran my fingers through my hair again, and she bestowed me with another kiss, that time on the side of my neck. The soft, silken caress of her lips was enough to make my pants a bit tighter. All things aside, I may as well let go for what time I had left there in the house with them.

“God, so silky,” I whispered to her. A second kiss on my neck, and then she ran her fingertips down my side before she stepped away.

I was going to spend the night with her again, that was for certain. She stepped into the guest room and picked something out from there. I licked my lips and followed her back into the living room.

I needed a drink right then, but then again, I also needed a few things. Christine sat there across from me with her hairbrush in hand, which she swept across the crown of her head: her red hair flashed like the light of a sunrise following a rainstorm. I gently plucked at the strings for a piece of wandering background music for her.

“I love how groovy your playing is, Alex,” Wendy remarked. “It’s kind of sensual, actually.”

“It’s what I get for being obsessed with melodies,” I retorted with a quick raise of my eyebrows.

Every so often, she glanced over at me with a slight hooding to her eyes. I had a feeling that she was eager to climb into bed with me that night, and especially since it was nearly midnight by the time we all turned in for the night. I blew out the candles before I turned back to the bedroom, which was now warm from the furnace having roared to life.

I could finally take off my clothes without worry of feeling too cold.

I climbed into bed in nothing more in my underwear.

I waited for Christine to creep into the room, into the spot on the bed right next to me with her arms around me. I was showing my skin, after all.

But then I drifted off to sleep before I could even so much as see her in the darkness.

I woke up the next morning, wrapped up in the blankets and the bright pink light of the sunrise. She had never come into the room, and as far as I knew, I only had so much time left. I got dressed and headed into the kitchen for some hot breakfast before we left for the airport again.

“We’re just driving him to the airport,” Wendy had told her parents as we prepared to leave: but her mother insisted on joining us to see me off. I gave Christine’s grandfather a hearty handshake and a hug before I left for the car.

“Safe travels, son,” he told me. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Thank you, sir—and thank you for the latkes and the hospitality, too!”

I climbed into the backseat of the car with my things and with Christine’s grandmother nestled right next to me. It was a cold, damp morning with an overcast sky, but at least the rain had stopped and we could drive, albeit with some caution given the sheer amount of water on the ground.

But the airport was open again, and I could go up to the gate, with my bag at my side and my guitar case slung over my shoulder. Her grandmother put her arms around me and held me close to her for a moment as I set my bag down on the linoleum next to me.

“Have a safe flight, okay, dear?” she asked me.

“Of course!” I assured her as I moved over to Wendy and her open arms.

“You’re a very sweet young man,” she added as she ran her hands up the small of my back.

“I try my best,” I said to her, and I could feel my face growing warm as a result. I moved onto Christine, who stood up on her toes to tell me something.

“Please visit us again,” she whispered into my ear.

“You know I will,” I promised her; I held her for a few more seconds, just so I had the feeling of her body right there next to me for a little while longer. A few more seconds only felt like a breath to me.

She had teased me the night before: it only made sense to do the same for her. I moved my hand down to the seat of her pants for a quick swipe: no one was looking, and no one knew how old she was, either.

“Enjoying that hug, Chris?” Wendy joked, and I let go of her right then.

“I think I might come back again next year,” I told her as I scooped up my bag and took out my ticket for a quick scan.

“Please do!” Wendy said. “We love you, Alex. Give your parents a hug for all of us.” She blew me a kiss and flashed me a wink before I picked up my things again and headed down the corridor to the plane.

There were only a few people on the plane, much to my surprise, but then again, I couldn’t be more relieved: I was about to go back home with only a few people around me.

“Another year without having my throat slit,” I muttered to myself. “About to go home and indulge in something delicious with my parents—” I put my bag in the overhead compartment again before I took my seat by the window. That time around, it looked as though I was alone there. No sooner had I taken my seat when I recognized the man across the aisle from me.

“Hello, son,” he greeted me.

“Oh, hi, Frank! How goes it?”

“Flying out to New York to visit my son,” he replied with a little smile on his face. “Hopefully, the weather will behave better on the way back.”

“Agreed!”

“Hey, would you rather I sit there next to you?” he offered me. “You know, just so you’re not by yourself?”

I glanced down at the empty seat next to me, and though it was a brief thought, I imagined Christine there next to me. Oh, to run back home to New York and introduce her to my parents. But I wasn’t going to risk it, however. Not when the numbers didn’t lie and I had to let her go for a time, at least until the next year came around and I could figure something out there to visit them once again.

“No, thanks,” I told him with a shake of my head. “I’ve been surrounded by people the last few days—I could use a little time to myself.”

“Oh, I get that completely,” he replied with a wink, and then he picked up the blindfold out from the pocket on the seat before him for a nap. Five hour flight with no stops, it made sense to take a nap at one point. I glanced out the window next to me to the clouds of the sky clearing out to reveal the bright late fall sunshine, bright despite the chill of winter coming for the western wing of the country. Even after the darkness, the sun always came out afterwards.

The candles still burned.

This actually turned out to be a great Hanukkah, after all, at least the first night of it turned out great anyway.

All I knew was my parents awaited me back home for the remaining seven nights.

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