Demon Boyfriend: Jolly Jay (rough draft)

I am sick of smiling. It’s as simple as that. All my life I have been told to smile, to stay upbeat, to present myself as a happy, well mannered, person. But I am disgusted with the motion of happiness now. I want to rage. I want to scream. I want to throw things and break them. I want to be so angry all the time. But I have to smile and keep smiling.

I am not alone in feeling this way. There are many others who are exhausted with smiling and of appearing happy all the time. Although it is hard to meet together these days due to the curfews, we manage to meet and show our emotions that are not ‘good’ ones. We cry, we rage, we suffer together as we discuss ways things could be different if someone just tried. But no one tries anymore, it’s almost impossible. Everyone must be happy, or else.

Or else could mean a wide berth of things. None of them are good. I have seen what ‘or else’ can mean. I have had neighbors come home changed, mentally or physically. I have never seen family members again, and if I have, I probably don’t know them anymore. The Government of Immaculate Unity sees to all the ‘or else’ that happens. Well, they call themselves a government to make themselves sound nice, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. The GIU took over a long time ago, although it was barely seen. Thanks to certain Witch Hunts, they were able to wiggle their fingers into positions of power, and those wagging fingers became more insistent that an upbeat nature would solve more issues than anything. Although, I am not too clear on timelines as history isn’t taught. I mean, they teach something called history, but it’s only happy events.

I own a rather large house, one that is far too big for me. So I rent out rooms to make money, and it is usually profitable. I offer a no questions asked policy and no one argues with my prices after that. I see strange behavior often, I barely bat an eye at it anymore. As long as I receive cash and the proper forms are signed, I don’t care what one does in the rooms. I also pay my cleaning woman, Matilda, handsomely and let her take home anything left in the rooms. It was a good system until one day, a few years ago, when men in lilac and yellow suits came to my door. Both looked quite fit and large, casting a shadow over my desk. They offered me a lot of money, enough to make me an asshole the rest of my life. All I had to do was clean out my basement and rent it to them indefinitely and see to the guest who would be staying there.

Knowing what I know now, I would have turned them away and risked it. Instead, being presented with that kind of money, I agreed to it. I clean out the basement and they outfitted it with everything it needed. They took down a lot of strange equipment into the basement, things that didn’t seem very homely. I never saw anyone move in, but I was given a set of keys for the door, which had been replaced behind my back. The door was bright yellow with strange markings all over it. Sealed away with several locks and bolts, and a window at head level, and another lower that had extended shelves for delivering food.

I was told to never open the door, what times to deliver food, and was told they would only be able to reach me through an intercom they installed into the phone. I was told not to talk at length to the man in the room, and I was to deliver to him packages that would come each morning by someone in a lilac and yellow suit. If I had any issues at all, they said they would be willing to pay more money. I argued there was a problem, and they paid me more money. Anytime I have a complaint, they just give me money. I’ve learned to be okay with it.

The first few weeks were strange, of course. I didn’t know if I had a criminal locked in my basement or what. I just brought food and the packages and left whoever was in there alone. After some time, I began hearing strange noises. Buzzes and beeps and all sorts of static. This caused disruptions for my television and radio. I mean, I never used them, but they started to turn on of their own accord.

One afternoon, as I took down their breakfast and package, the shutter inside opened. I stood back, holding my breath. The opposite shutter had never opened before. I always left before it did. I stood there, watching and waiting, hoping it might close again.

“Do you have my things or don’t you?” The voice that came out was so smooth and lovely. A hand then came out that was not so smooth and lovely. The fingers were so long and had an extra joint. The nails were painted pastel pink and shaped like coffins. “Come now,” the fingers wagged. “I smell that delicious coffee.”

I approach. “Sorry, was surprised.”

“Of course,” that beautiful voice purred. “I’ve been quite shy up until this point.” Their voice actually feels like silk in the ears.

I set the tray down then set the package in sideways. I wanted to hear them speak more, but I was unsure what to say to them. I went to step back as they took their things. They then held their hand out again. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I hold my mouth stiffly, having trained to keep it flat rather than turn into a frown all my life. Better to look emotionless than lean anywhere towards being unhappy. “I’ll shake your hand later. Mine are sticky from the cinnamon bun,” I lied.

“Oh, of course.” Their hand recoiled back inside. “My name is Jay Bune.”

I was shocked. Everybody knew that name, it was the most popular radio program on air today. Some claimed he was spreading propaganda for the GIU. Others said he was hiding coded messages in his broadcasts. Most of the world just knew him as ‘their friendly neighbor, Jolly Jay’. Hell, even I listened to him sometimes.

“The radio guy?”

“So you know me?” He chuckled. “Yes, that is me. I know you are Imelda Fitzgerald, proprietress of this establishment. Thank you for taking care of me.”

I stared at the locked door. “I wouldn’t call it that.” I wanted to ask him why he was here, being so beloved, but he beat me to the punch.

“I know what you are thinking, and no, I am not locked up for some crime of my own doing. Rather, I am here for my own protection.”

It was getting hard to hold back the frown. “From what?”

“The GIU,” Jay stated simply. “Or at least, what it is now.”

I grew cold all over, prickly too. My neck went stiff and my jaw clenched tight so my teeth ground together. “I don’t need to know this.”

“That is fine,” Jay’s smooth voice sighed. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you, for my own protection, but you see, I am so lonely. I know you have been told to keep your distance from me, but please, it would mean the world to me if we could talk sometimes.”

His voice was so lovely, it was hard to even think about saying no. But I had to tell him it would be something I had to think about. Jay understood and he bid me farewell. Each day after that, we chatted a little through the door. Nothing much, just whatever.

One day, and I remember it very clearly, I had not gotten enough sleep, and my morning hadn’t gone right in anyway. I had to leave first thing to buy breakfast as my stove was on the fritz. And on my way to the store, my mask broke. People wore masks to cover their face below the nose so they didn’t smile as much, often times they had fanciful happy prints to make up for it. Mine snapped as I tried to put it on, so I had to go without it.

Along the way home, I stopped smiling for half a second on the bus, and that’s when I heard the most vile words of my life.

“You’d be prettier if you smiled!” A man said so jovially and so confidently unwarranted, I felt like a wild bear on the inside and his comment had attacked my cubs. I looked at him, sitting across from me with his mask on, staring me down, waiting for me to smile like he wanted. Every fiber of my being hurt inside, but I had to smile. His addition of ‘much better’, made me sick to my stomach.

Once home, all I wanted to do was break down, destroy things, claw out my hair. Instead I had to make Jay’s breakfast and take it to him along with the package that came every morning. I stomped downstairs and nearly threw his tray through the window as it opened.

“Good morning!” I snapped.

“Jehosaphats, what’s wrong?” He asked cooly.

“Nothing!” I spit.

He was silent for a moment. “Bad morning, huh?”

I rubbed at my face hard, probably smudging my makeup. “Doesn’t matter. Just, eat your breakfast.”

“I will listen if you want to talk. Between me and the door, no one will hear your anger.” Jay held his hand out again.

I sniffled, feeling tears come to my eyes. “I can’t say it.”

“You hate smiling,” he whispered. “That’s okay. You’re not supposed to do it all the time. Let alone think about it. And being told to do it makes it so much worse, doesn’t it?”

“How do you know?” I stiffened my jaw, setting to to prepare myself to keep from frowning.

“It’s not a secret in this world,” Jay murmured. “Happiness is not a constant.”

I stepped closer to the door. “But aren’t you Jolly Jay?”

He chuckled. “I am more than that.”

After that day, I began talking more and more to Jay. I found myself becoming quite close to him. I opened up in ways I only did around the people who shared the pessimism I did. He didn’t tell me much about himself, probably out of need. He seemed to just enjoy the company of having someone there.

I discovered he enjoyed anything lemon, tea, candy, food, even the scent. So I started incorporating this into his meals, even bringing him treats. I liked to hear his voice when he was excited, even more so I liked to make him happy. It was one of the few things that brought a smile to my face without trying.

“I love yellow things,” he told me one day. “But lemons are special. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” I chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me.”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “They’re kind of like you.”

I scoffed. “What?”

“Well, think about it, they’re pretty and bright on the outside, but on the inside they’re sour and bitter, but more than that, they’re filled with things a body needs.”

I wasn’t sure if this was flattering or not. “You think I’m pretty?”

“And sour, but easily made sweet.” That laugh of his was more potent that day than it usually was. It made me flush and my chest feel tight.

“I see. You’re trying to get to me. Good one,” I forced out a laugh.

“Not necessarily,” he replied coolly. “Just awkwardly trying to pay you a compliment. Trying to tell you, just like lemons, I like you a lot.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond after that, so I just kept myself quiet.

“I know this job was thrust upon you, but I am grateful it was you.” His hand came out from the small window. “I would have been miserable had I never got to meet you.”

I swallow and reached down, touching his hand for the first time. His long, strange fingers laced with mine. His skin was smooth, and he was so warm. I held his hand for a long while, not saying anything.

“I’m sorry if I have said too much, Imelda,” he chuckled. “But I do mean every word.”

“You’re fine. It’s fine.” I leaned against the door.

Jay breathed. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“About?”

He stalled, running his thumb along the side of my hand. “Keep me safe, and you will become powerful.”

I wanted to let go of his hand, but I kept it still. “I’m not sure I like how that sounds, Jay.” My voice cracked as I spoke.

“You will see, over time you will.” He let go of my hand then placed something in my palm. “You are my keeper now.”

I looked at the ring he had given me, a simple thing that was yellow gold. “Jay, what are you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “It is best you do not know. At least not for a while. I am your friend and charge for the time being. Eventually, that may change into something more. But I am happy with where we are at.”

I placed the ring on my middle finger and it fit perfectly. “I can live with knowing you’re a friend. I suppose it would be better if I don’t know anything more about you.”

“Exactly. I want to keep you safe, as you keep me safe.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know, I really did. But for the sake of the situation, I knew the less I knew, the better. Whatever the packages were, whatever he was, it was all secreted away for one reason or another.

Then came the day I would actually meet Jay. I came home from shopping, finding those people in the lilac and yellow suits inside my place. They were taking out equipment from the basement and replacing it with newer things.

“Ma’am, this will only take a few hours, so we moved Mr. Bune into a room upstairs. We ask that you go upstairs to your room until we are done.” They took my groceries and gave me money. I just rolled my eyes and went upstairs. I went into my room, shutting the door and taking off my sweater.

“My, my, I came for a conversation, not a show.”

I jumped, holding my sweater back to my chest. Sitting on my bed was a very tall, long, thin man. He wore an impeccable suit of yellow gingham, although all he had on was the vest and his sleeves were rolled up. His jacket was folded neatly on the bed. He also wore a mask. It was extremely glossy and bore a massive grin upon the front.

“Jay?” I asked, breathless and alarmed.

He raised a long finger, tapping it over the grin on his mask. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he whispered. “Keep your voice down. I wanted to see you so badly, and this may be the only chance I get.”

“You see me all the time.” I tugged my sweater back on.

“Not like this.” He rose from the bed, looking like a giant praying mantis in a way. “I never get to be in the same room with you. There’s always a door between us.”

“Tall,” I murmured.

Jay chuckled. “Are you surprised?”

“Very much.” I glanced to the door, hearing noise from downstairs. “What are they doing anyways?”

“Replacing my radio equipment. They are hoping for a better signal that can reach farther and be less detectable.” He sat back down upon my bed and folded his hands into his lap. “It will take a few hours, so we can spend some time together.”

I nervously fiddled with my hair, trying to tuck it away, but I’m playing with it too much for it to stay in place. “What would you like to do?”

“Not sure. I’m just happy to be here.” He then patted the bed beside him. “Come sit with me, maybe we will think of something.”

I took the seat and Jay offered me his hand to hold. I took it, lacing my fingers with his. “You’re still wearing the ring I gave you.”

“It’s nice. I like it.”

“Good.” He looked at me with that masked smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can you take that mask off?” I asked. “It’s creepy.”

He touched the mask, smoothing his longer fingers down it. “I am afraid I can’t do that, Imelda. Even if I would like to. I have to keep the mask on, for your sake, at least.”

I soften my neck. “My sake?”

“This mask may appear creepy to you, but there is something underneath that I fear is much worse than this. I would hate for you to look at me and then…” he loses his breath. “Never look again.”

I squeeze his hand. “I like you too much to care about what you look like.”

“I am glad that you do,” he whispered.

I smiled up at him and felt him smiling back at me. I know that I hate to smile, but when it was with Jay, it didn’t matter. I didn’t have to force it, I didn’t have to hide my anger behind it. It was real, it was genuine, and it was mine alone.

The years went by, and Jay remained in my basement where he broadcasted his show. I never noticed it, but over all that time, I had become known as the Keeper to those wearing the lilac and yellow suits. I was referred to with respect, even looked upon as someone high ranking. Jay had told me I would be powerful, I just never realized how it would happen.