11.
I unpacked my boxes and looked around my room. It was a little after noon and I had the day off, though for the first time I wish I didn’t. I wanted to see what fire I could kindle. What feat I could conquer… I had told Gregory about the Smolderer smiling at me. He was certain this meant I was “in” and kept cheering me on.
“You just got to get in there man. Just get in there and do it,” he said over and over again in a thousand ways.
I realized I didn’t have a bed. I had a dresser that I had taken from my mother’s basement, but nowhere to actually lie down.
There was no closet in the room so I figured I would have to either fit all of my clothes in the dresser or try to cycle my laundry days so that half of my clothes were always in the hamper while the other half were tucked neatly away in the dresser.
Gregory would be out of work at four and I figured we could see about getting a bed for me then. I had heard that there was a furniture store across town that occasionally left things outside. I’d stop there first.
Also, I could use a fucking lamp.
I went out to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Though the summer was ending, the temperature still swelled around me and I found myself drinking much more water than normal. I drank down the glass and noticed the kitchen window was open. Fresh air breezed in and the sounds of birds and the busy road echoed down the driveway and into the kitchen. I didn’t miss anyone. A beautiful girl smiled at me. I was free, and after so long, I felt alive. As if I was being welcomed into the world, instead of being dragged around the powdered glass fringe of it, bleeding and gagged. I felt beautiful.
The winter before, in February, I remembered staring out of the bedroom window, out into the snow and mud covered endless field. At the flat disjointed hell of farm country, and thinking “if I smile even once this week, I won’t hang myself in the basement.”
On the fifth day, after giving away a number of my clothes, CD’s and DVD’s to people at work and the sister of my then girlfriend, I heard a song on the radio, and smiled. For months after that I wished I hadn’t.
Now, I was glad I did. I couldn’t even imagine then the simple beauty of a moment like this. The fresh air wafting through my kitchen, free of scowls, free of guilt, free of my own self destructive logic. Here I was, barefoot, enjoying the twilight of summer, drinking my water and wondering if a smile meant more.
Life is beautiful.
I put my glass into the sink and went to take a shower.
12.
“So, you just show up and what, steal a couch or something?” Gregory asked.
“No, I don’t know, I mean, I’m not looking for a couch, but I think yeah, it’s all free.”
“Why would they give you free furniture? They’re a furniture store.”
“I don’t know man. Let’s just go check it out.”
“You sure you don’t want to check out the Salvation Army first?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay man.”
Gregory drove us through town to the furniture store. It was evening. We pulled into the parking lot and they were closed.
“Okay, now what?”
“I, don’t know… Drive around back.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it’s all around back.”
“If you say so,” he said.
We drove around to the back side of the store and there by the loading docks was a pile of furniture with a cardboard sign that read in bold black letters “FREE”. I didn’t understand the logic, but I was thankful.
“See? Told you,” I said.
“You were right man. All right, so let’s see what we’ve got. Maybe I can find a nightstand or something.”
We parked and got out. The pile of furniture was mostly mattresses, box springs and chairs. Off to the side was a coffee table and what may have been an end stand or a night stand poked out from under a pile of dining room chairs.
“I wish we had a bigger vehicle. We could fucking load up and refurnish the whole apartment,” Gregory said.
“We could make a few trips.”
“True. Do they do this all the time, or…”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, do they refill the pile?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll have to swing through occasionally and check.”
“Totally.”
I went digging through the pile, flipping mattresses and looking for stains, smelling, feeling for moisture. It hadn’t rained in quite some time and everything was dry and nothing smelled.
One, under another, still had plastic on it and looked well padded.
“I found a mattress,” I said.
Gregory threw a dining room chair out of the pile in an attempt to retrieve whatever sort of stand was under the chairs. “Yeah? Throw it on the roof. I have rope in the back. See a box spring and a frame?”
“I don’t see any frames, but, There’s a few box springs here.”
I dragged the mattress out and tore some of the plastic on a chair leg. With only the complications of it being cumbersome and spineless I lifted the mattress up onto the roof and slid it into place.
Gregory emerged with an end stand. “Do you think it matches the coffee table?”
“It’s brown, so, yeah. I guess.”
“Awesome. We’ll throw this in the back then. You got the mattress up. Cool. Box spring now?”
“Yeah.” I went back to the mound of saving grace and shoved a few more mattresses out of the way, eventually finding a decent box spring. It wasn’t brand new, but it was a queen sized, like the mattress and looked and smelled clean. It was stuck a bit between other things, but with a shove here and a pull there, it came free and somehow easier than the mattress I pulled it out and carried it over. Gregory took one end and we lifted it up and threw it on top of the mattress.
“Awesome. Free bed,” he said.
“Seriously. We didn’t have to buy a damn thing. Want to get drunk?”
“Absolutely buddy.”
“All right. Let’s tie this fucker off and get some booze.”
Gregory walked around and opened the back of his Bronco. He slid the end stand in and rifled around in the back. “You haven’t seen the rope have you?”
We drove slowly through town to Abbots Liquors and then home.
13.
Rent was due. The first time I had had to worry about it on my own. Somehow it always ended up being the responsibility of whichever girl I was living with at the time. Not putting up the money, but paying it on time. I wondered if maybe I should have taken over from the start.
I was sitting outside of work with my back against the stucco wall and my ass on the sidewalk. I had my legs out and I was smoking a cigarette and wearing sunglasses and pretending I knew shit about budgeting.
It was hot for September. Had I not been in the shade, I would have been drenched in sweat. Customers walked out of the store and looked at me on the ground and I ignored them and smoked.
The door opened and two of the girls from the hair salon came out. The Smolderer looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and tried not to piss myself. The other one didn’t look and who would give a shit.
I was due back inside and my cigarette was finished, but I didn’t want to go in yet. I lit another cigarette. The Smolderer kept stealing glances. My blood rushed through me and I pretended I didn’t notice her and stared out over the embankment across the parking lot.
The other hairdresser was going on and on about some poor guy named Paul who I’m sure was sick of her shit.
Paul didn’t fuck her anymore.
Paul must think she’s fat.
Paul’s going to get his car keyed.
“I’ll tell the fucking cops he raped me,” she said. “I’ll just fuck him and then scratch myself up and then call them. They’ll believe me too.”
I looked up at her. The other one looked at me.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” she said.
“A fucking bitch, apparently.”
“Fuck you.” She flicked her cigarette at me and she was terrible at it. “I’m going back in. Are you coming, Becks?”
The Smolderer, “Becks”, glanced at me. “No," she said. "Not yet. I don’t have any appointments for a while.”
“Fine,” she said and looked down at me again. “Human garbage.” She went inside.
“Sorry about her,” the Smolderer said. “She’s…”
“Human garbage?” I said.
She smiled. “Yeah, a little bit sometimes.” She sat next to me against the wall. “I’m Rebecca.” She stuck out her hand.
I shook it. “James.”
“Nice to actually meet you James.”
“You too.”
“Do you have another cigarette?”
I had three until I got paid. “Sure.” I took one out and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She lit it and leaned back against the wall and we both stared over the embankment. My heart was racing. My skin was flushed. I was trying to keep calm.
“So, you know Lauren?”
“Well, I guess. Not really. I think Gregory’s trying to fuck her.”
“Yeah, that’s what she says.”
“You think they will?”
“Probably. She’s pretty slutty.”
“Is it slutty to fuck someone after they’ve been trying to get together with you for a while?”
“With Lauren it is,” she said. “It won’t mean anything to her.”
“Does it have to?”
“I don’t know. I guess not. I like it to.”
“So you aren’t slutty then?”
“Do you think I am?”
“I just met you. I mean, we aren’t fucking now, so, I suppose that earns you a few not-slutty points, but the night is young.”
She laughed. “True,” she said and smoked the cigarette.
I wondered what that meant.
She tapped my foot with hers. “I have to go back in.”
“Yeah, I was supposed to go in a while ago.”
“Why are you still out here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She smiled, opened her purse and took out a pen. “Give me your arm.”
I did.
She wrote on it. “You should call me.”
She got up and went inside. I still needed a few minutes.
14.
“So, you got her number?” Gregory asked.
“I did.”
“You dirty fucking dog you! Goddamn! I knew you could do it!”
It was night. I had walked home again with her in my head and on my arm and before I knew it was home. Gregory and I were sitting in the enclosed side porch on two ruined chairs drinking Keystone and I was smoking.
“I don’t think I had much to do with it. She sort of, commanded it.”
“Commanded, eh?”
“Yeah, it was kind of… awesome.”
“I bet. So you guys going to hook up now?”
“I don’t know man. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Well, any of it, I guess.”
He sipped his beer. He hated the taste. His father had always bought expensive imports and that was what he had been raised on. I didn’t give a shit either way. “Getting a girl’s number? You’ve never done that?”
“Not really. I mean, not in any professional manner.”
He laughed. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not some fucking alpha, lady-admiral who just knows all the moves.”
“Dude, you’ve had girlfriends like, your whole life.”
“Yeah, but, only a few long term ones,” I said. “They just sort of, happened, I guess.”
“So, you’re lost, then.”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Want me to help?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on! Why the fuck not?”
“I don’t see any women around here.”
He sipped his beer again and squinted. “Well played.”
“We need to get a phone now,” I said.
“First thing tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have grocery money?”
“Friday, man.”
I unpacked my boxes and looked around my room. It was a little after noon and I had the day off, though for the first time I wish I didn’t. I wanted to see what fire I could kindle. What feat I could conquer… I had told Gregory about the Smolderer smiling at me. He was certain this meant I was “in” and kept cheering me on.
“You just got to get in there man. Just get in there and do it,” he said over and over again in a thousand ways.
I realized I didn’t have a bed. I had a dresser that I had taken from my mother’s basement, but nowhere to actually lie down.
There was no closet in the room so I figured I would have to either fit all of my clothes in the dresser or try to cycle my laundry days so that half of my clothes were always in the hamper while the other half were tucked neatly away in the dresser.
Gregory would be out of work at four and I figured we could see about getting a bed for me then. I had heard that there was a furniture store across town that occasionally left things outside. I’d stop there first.
Also, I could use a fucking lamp.
I went out to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Though the summer was ending, the temperature still swelled around me and I found myself drinking much more water than normal. I drank down the glass and noticed the kitchen window was open. Fresh air breezed in and the sounds of birds and the busy road echoed down the driveway and into the kitchen. I didn’t miss anyone. A beautiful girl smiled at me. I was free, and after so long, I felt alive. As if I was being welcomed into the world, instead of being dragged around the powdered glass fringe of it, bleeding and gagged. I felt beautiful.
The winter before, in February, I remembered staring out of the bedroom window, out into the snow and mud covered endless field. At the flat disjointed hell of farm country, and thinking “if I smile even once this week, I won’t hang myself in the basement.”
On the fifth day, after giving away a number of my clothes, CD’s and DVD’s to people at work and the sister of my then girlfriend, I heard a song on the radio, and smiled. For months after that I wished I hadn’t.
Now, I was glad I did. I couldn’t even imagine then the simple beauty of a moment like this. The fresh air wafting through my kitchen, free of scowls, free of guilt, free of my own self destructive logic. Here I was, barefoot, enjoying the twilight of summer, drinking my water and wondering if a smile meant more.
Life is beautiful.
I put my glass into the sink and went to take a shower.
12.
“So, you just show up and what, steal a couch or something?” Gregory asked.
“No, I don’t know, I mean, I’m not looking for a couch, but I think yeah, it’s all free.”
“Why would they give you free furniture? They’re a furniture store.”
“I don’t know man. Let’s just go check it out.”
“You sure you don’t want to check out the Salvation Army first?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay man.”
Gregory drove us through town to the furniture store. It was evening. We pulled into the parking lot and they were closed.
“Okay, now what?”
“I, don’t know… Drive around back.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it’s all around back.”
“If you say so,” he said.
We drove around to the back side of the store and there by the loading docks was a pile of furniture with a cardboard sign that read in bold black letters “FREE”. I didn’t understand the logic, but I was thankful.
“See? Told you,” I said.
“You were right man. All right, so let’s see what we’ve got. Maybe I can find a nightstand or something.”
We parked and got out. The pile of furniture was mostly mattresses, box springs and chairs. Off to the side was a coffee table and what may have been an end stand or a night stand poked out from under a pile of dining room chairs.
“I wish we had a bigger vehicle. We could fucking load up and refurnish the whole apartment,” Gregory said.
“We could make a few trips.”
“True. Do they do this all the time, or…”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, do they refill the pile?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll have to swing through occasionally and check.”
“Totally.”
I went digging through the pile, flipping mattresses and looking for stains, smelling, feeling for moisture. It hadn’t rained in quite some time and everything was dry and nothing smelled.
One, under another, still had plastic on it and looked well padded.
“I found a mattress,” I said.
Gregory threw a dining room chair out of the pile in an attempt to retrieve whatever sort of stand was under the chairs. “Yeah? Throw it on the roof. I have rope in the back. See a box spring and a frame?”
“I don’t see any frames, but, There’s a few box springs here.”
I dragged the mattress out and tore some of the plastic on a chair leg. With only the complications of it being cumbersome and spineless I lifted the mattress up onto the roof and slid it into place.
Gregory emerged with an end stand. “Do you think it matches the coffee table?”
“It’s brown, so, yeah. I guess.”
“Awesome. We’ll throw this in the back then. You got the mattress up. Cool. Box spring now?”
“Yeah.” I went back to the mound of saving grace and shoved a few more mattresses out of the way, eventually finding a decent box spring. It wasn’t brand new, but it was a queen sized, like the mattress and looked and smelled clean. It was stuck a bit between other things, but with a shove here and a pull there, it came free and somehow easier than the mattress I pulled it out and carried it over. Gregory took one end and we lifted it up and threw it on top of the mattress.
“Awesome. Free bed,” he said.
“Seriously. We didn’t have to buy a damn thing. Want to get drunk?”
“Absolutely buddy.”
“All right. Let’s tie this fucker off and get some booze.”
Gregory walked around and opened the back of his Bronco. He slid the end stand in and rifled around in the back. “You haven’t seen the rope have you?”
We drove slowly through town to Abbots Liquors and then home.
13.
Rent was due. The first time I had had to worry about it on my own. Somehow it always ended up being the responsibility of whichever girl I was living with at the time. Not putting up the money, but paying it on time. I wondered if maybe I should have taken over from the start.
I was sitting outside of work with my back against the stucco wall and my ass on the sidewalk. I had my legs out and I was smoking a cigarette and wearing sunglasses and pretending I knew shit about budgeting.
It was hot for September. Had I not been in the shade, I would have been drenched in sweat. Customers walked out of the store and looked at me on the ground and I ignored them and smoked.
The door opened and two of the girls from the hair salon came out. The Smolderer looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and tried not to piss myself. The other one didn’t look and who would give a shit.
I was due back inside and my cigarette was finished, but I didn’t want to go in yet. I lit another cigarette. The Smolderer kept stealing glances. My blood rushed through me and I pretended I didn’t notice her and stared out over the embankment across the parking lot.
The other hairdresser was going on and on about some poor guy named Paul who I’m sure was sick of her shit.
Paul didn’t fuck her anymore.
Paul must think she’s fat.
Paul’s going to get his car keyed.
“I’ll tell the fucking cops he raped me,” she said. “I’ll just fuck him and then scratch myself up and then call them. They’ll believe me too.”
I looked up at her. The other one looked at me.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” she said.
“A fucking bitch, apparently.”
“Fuck you.” She flicked her cigarette at me and she was terrible at it. “I’m going back in. Are you coming, Becks?”
The Smolderer, “Becks”, glanced at me. “No," she said. "Not yet. I don’t have any appointments for a while.”
“Fine,” she said and looked down at me again. “Human garbage.” She went inside.
“Sorry about her,” the Smolderer said. “She’s…”
“Human garbage?” I said.
She smiled. “Yeah, a little bit sometimes.” She sat next to me against the wall. “I’m Rebecca.” She stuck out her hand.
I shook it. “James.”
“Nice to actually meet you James.”
“You too.”
“Do you have another cigarette?”
I had three until I got paid. “Sure.” I took one out and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She lit it and leaned back against the wall and we both stared over the embankment. My heart was racing. My skin was flushed. I was trying to keep calm.
“So, you know Lauren?”
“Well, I guess. Not really. I think Gregory’s trying to fuck her.”
“Yeah, that’s what she says.”
“You think they will?”
“Probably. She’s pretty slutty.”
“Is it slutty to fuck someone after they’ve been trying to get together with you for a while?”
“With Lauren it is,” she said. “It won’t mean anything to her.”
“Does it have to?”
“I don’t know. I guess not. I like it to.”
“So you aren’t slutty then?”
“Do you think I am?”
“I just met you. I mean, we aren’t fucking now, so, I suppose that earns you a few not-slutty points, but the night is young.”
She laughed. “True,” she said and smoked the cigarette.
I wondered what that meant.
She tapped my foot with hers. “I have to go back in.”
“Yeah, I was supposed to go in a while ago.”
“Why are you still out here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She smiled, opened her purse and took out a pen. “Give me your arm.”
I did.
She wrote on it. “You should call me.”
She got up and went inside. I still needed a few minutes.
14.
“So, you got her number?” Gregory asked.
“I did.”
“You dirty fucking dog you! Goddamn! I knew you could do it!”
It was night. I had walked home again with her in my head and on my arm and before I knew it was home. Gregory and I were sitting in the enclosed side porch on two ruined chairs drinking Keystone and I was smoking.
“I don’t think I had much to do with it. She sort of, commanded it.”
“Commanded, eh?”
“Yeah, it was kind of… awesome.”
“I bet. So you guys going to hook up now?”
“I don’t know man. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Well, any of it, I guess.”
He sipped his beer. He hated the taste. His father had always bought expensive imports and that was what he had been raised on. I didn’t give a shit either way. “Getting a girl’s number? You’ve never done that?”
“Not really. I mean, not in any professional manner.”
He laughed. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not some fucking alpha, lady-admiral who just knows all the moves.”
“Dude, you’ve had girlfriends like, your whole life.”
“Yeah, but, only a few long term ones,” I said. “They just sort of, happened, I guess.”
“So, you’re lost, then.”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Want me to help?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on! Why the fuck not?”
“I don’t see any women around here.”
He sipped his beer again and squinted. “Well played.”
“We need to get a phone now,” I said.
“First thing tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have grocery money?”
“Friday, man.”
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