The Punchline to the Joke Is Asking

Back in New York, I knew exactly where to go, Pete and Joe following close on my heels. Patrick and Andy had elected to stay home.
I sashayed down Broadway with that street kid swagger, the one that screamed I belonged there as I nodded to some people, glared at others.
Pete and Joe just watched me with interest.

I found the old abandoned building, sliding past the rotting, crooked door, and up the deteriorating stairs. Pete and Joe hesitated, and I looked down at them from three steps up.
“Coming?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Is it safe?” Pete asked skeptically, and I shrugged.
“Who cares?” I grinned, then turned, vanishing up the stairs, hearing the boys following tentatively.

We reached the third floor, the only one with a legitimate door, and I pulled a chain from around my neck, putting the skeleton key in the lock. The boys had always thought it was a cute charm I’d taken a liking to, not actually part of who I was.
The door swung open silently, and I smiled at the familiar room- the broken arm chairs, the blankets piled into a makeshift mattress/nest on the floor, the cardboard box of cans and bottles, the old man slumped on the shaky wooden table.
I crossed the floor, picking around the broken glass, and kicked one of the table’s legs.
The man leapt to his feet, holding a knife and dropping the water he’d been clutching in his sleep, then he caught sight of me.
“Cyn?” He asked, shocked, then his eyes darted to the men behind me.
“Jamie!” I yelled, tackling him in a hug as he set the knife down on the table. “I missed you!” My voice was muffled by the puffy winter coat hanging on his skinny frame.
“I missed you, too, sweetheart.” Jamie mumbled, ruffling my hair. “Where have you been, child?”
“Jamie, these guys are Pete and Joe, the guys who took me out of the park.” I said, pulling him forward to properly introduce them. “They took me to Chicago, and they signed me to their record label. They’re making me a rockstar.”
“I told you, you sing pretty songs.” Jamie smiled proudly at me, his hand on my shoulder, then he shook hands with Pete and Joe. “Thank you for taking her away from this.”
“She deserves it, after what she’s been through.” Joe nodded solemnly.

The guys began chatting, sitting around the table as I started tidying up the room, organizing the cans we could get quarters for, the junk, stuff we could burn in the winter… then I realized I was thinking like I was still here.
I blinked, freezing, a can in my hand, realizing this wasn’t my life anymore.
“She brought Trey home about a year after she met me. He’s a year older, and he’d gotten into a fight with a gang. They were going to shoot him, but Cyn took the bullet and ran all the way back here with him.” Jamie was saying. “The two of them were best friends, and I always kinda hoped they’d get married.” He chuckled slightly. “But then she got taken, and Trey up and vanished-”
“What happened to him, anyway?” I asked, trying not to let my anxiety show as I sauntered over and sat on the floor next to the table.
“Social services found him.” Jamie sighed. “They took him away from me.”
“Jamie, I’m sorry.” I sympathized. He’d lost both of us.
“He gave me his phone number, and I call him from the payphone, sometimes.” Jamie muttered, rummaging in one of his pockets, extracting a worn piece of paper and handing it to me.
I stared at it for a moment, the familiar handwriting, then saved the number in my phone and scribbled my own number on the back of the paper. “Now you still have both of us.” I grinned crookedly at him, handing it back.

“You gonna call Trey?” Pete asked quietly as we boarded the plane, not long after saying goodbye to Jamie. I’d given him enough cash to but food for a long time, but he’d refused coming back with us. Just getting him to take the money was hard enough.
“Maybe someday.” I sighed. “For now, I’ll let Jamie keep him to himself.”

*

“You’re going on tour with us.” Ryan announced, bursting into my apartment with Joe and Brendon hot on his heels.
“Really?” I grinned, glancing up from my book. I’d been leaning my crossed arms on the counter, too engrossed in the text to take it and my Monster to the sofa.
“Really, really!” Joe grinned, picking me up and spinning me around. I laughed, glad he was back to normal. Since our trip home to New York, he’d been a little… distant.

*

Halfway through tour, we were hitting Oklahoma, and I had mixed feelings about that.
I stared intently out the bus window, well aware everyone was watching me as well as the scenery flashing past the tinted glass.
“Holy shit, look at that.” Brendon said, pressing his face to the glass as we rolled past mansions- huge ones, borderline castles.
“Yeah, this is the nice part of town.” I nodded absentmindedly. “Nice houses, nasty people.” I mumbled under my breath, my eye darkening though my face remained neutral.
“Is this your hometown?” Pete asked, studying me.
“It’s where I’m from, yeah.” I replied evenly.
“Did you ever talk to your parents, after you left?”
I tore my gaze away from the mansions, meeting Pete’s eyes as everyone waited for my answer. I swear to god, I’m not that interesting.
“Yeah. For the first 8 months, they emailed me every day. Apologizing, begging me to come back, saying we could compromise if I’d just come home.” I shrugged. “I deleted every one after I read them. Never replied. Eventually, the emails were coming once a week, once a month, then I got one that said they were sorry I was gone, and they’d ‘laid my soul to rest’.” I barked a harsh laugh. “I replied to that one. I was downright nasty to them.” I shook my head, grinning viciously at the floor. “I thought about going back, once or twice. On the bad days.” I admitted. “Then I realized I’d rather be homeless than a Nazi. Maybe I’ll swing by, see what my folks have to say to my face.”
“Wait, you could’ve gone back?” Ryan butted in. “You didn’t have to put up with living on the streets?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “I’ll take the rape, I’ll take the shootings, I’ll take my own life, but I won’t ever be a Nazi.” The guys were staring openly, awe all over their faces. Joe and Pete looked proud, even.
“I can’t believe you’d do that. It’s incredible. Leaving your friends, your family, your home just for what you believe in?” Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think I could do that.”
I shrugged. “Run first, think later.” Then I glanced out the window, realizing where we were. I turned around, standing on my knees on the couch as I slid the window down, glaring as I stuck my head out, waiting for a certain abode to flash past.
“Fuck you Nazis!” I screamed out the window, giving the finger to the middle-aged couple sitting outside the most massive, ornate mansion we’d past yet. It had turrets, gargoyles, lush lawns and topiaries, the whole nine yards.
The couple gaped at the bus in shock, and then we were past.
With a satisfied, sadistic smirk, I shut the window, turning back around and sliding back into my seat properly on the couch.
“What’s wrong with you?” Brendon gaped, next to me on the couch, frozen in shock. I was usually such a nice girl. It wasn’t often that my street side came out to play.
I blinked at him innocently. “I had to let my parents know I’m back in town.”

-*-

“That was your house?” Pete gaped at me.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I was a spoiled rich kid, got everything I wanted minus the free will.” I glared out the window, even though I couldn’t see the house anymore. “Fucking assholes.” I growled under my breath, my expression venomous. Then I glanced at the boys out the corner of my eyes. “I’m gonna have to visit my parents while we’re here.”
“We’ll go with you.” Joe said, after a contemplative pause.
“No.” It came out harsher than I intended, surprising even me, and everyone flinched as I stood up, the bus engine cutting as we pulled into the venue’s lot.
“Why shouldn’t we?” Joe asked testily, standing up, too, so he could look down at me, his arms crossed across his chest.
“Because they wouldn’t get along with you.” I spat.
“Because you get along with them so wonderfully.” Joe rolled his eyes. “I’m at least going with you.”
“No one is coming, especially not you.” I informed him, my eyes narrowing.
“Really? Why?” Joe cocked an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to come up with a childish answer. I could’ve sworn he looked hurt for an instant, but it was quickly covered by his impatience with me.
“They’re Nazis, you’re Jewish, Joe!” I yelled. “They’ll kill you!”
“Aren’t you exaggerating a little?” Pete asked slowly, trying to calm me down.
“They killed the Rabbi who lived across town.” I said darkly, then turned on my heel and left the bus, filled with the stunned silence of the boys on the bus.
“Cyn, wait! Where’re you going?”
I ignored the shouts, closing my eyes and exhaling in a rush as I strode down the sidewalk, my hands in my pockets.
As I made it to town, I passed more people, ignoring them as I loped past the familiar facades of overpriced boutiques and specialty stores. All those hoity-toity rich people places I’d taken for granted until I was 10.
I didn’t make eye contact as the people I passed, the ones I’d grown up around stopped and stared like they’d seen a ghost.
In a way, they had. I wasn’t the little kid who’d peacefully protested the ideals of my parents an their town anymore; I was a kid who’d left with no intention of coming back with my tail between my legs, I was a kid who’d given up everything to live the way I believed was right. I’d turned to streets full of gang violence and rapes, suicide and shootings, to be free of a life of hating the world around me.
I slowed as I walked down the street, pulling out my phone but ignoring the texts from the guys. I knew at least one of them was following me, but I could lose them easily if I felt like it.
I scrolled through the contacts, looking for one I’d never used before. It was a number that had cropped up in one of the few emails I’d answered. I’d never given my number, not even when I got my phone, but I had hers. I’d stayed in touch with my two friends back home through monthly emails. They were the only two in this town who knew I was still alive; even though they had no idea where I’d been or who I was now.
I stopped, turning to lean back against a brick building, kicking one foot up against the wall as I raised the phone to my ear. A movement caught my eye, and I saw two men duck around a corner, back from the way I’d come.
Brendon and Joe, I might have even seen Ryan with them.
I chose to ignore them for the time being, then closed my eyes tight as a familiar, curious voice asked ‘Hello?’, not recognizing my number.
“Keisha? It’s Cyan.” I whispered.