“That was good thinking. It’s helping me a lot today. I need to watch some myself. Or I guess listen.” It really was a hard pill to swallow when first being met with the reality of never seeing a new movie or new faces again. It still is sometimes. Especially when I want more than anything to know the face he’s making right now and when I was mentioning going commando most days.
I don’t even know if the guy is attracted to the same sex. Not that it matters. Travis thought I was lacking and so would he. Not that he would ever be an option. He’s here to help me. He’s volunteering to kill time in his day. I’m sure he’d much rather be doing something other than watching me flip pancakes, but he’s obviously too much of a gentleman to tell me so.
“Yeah. There are so many great videos out there. Lots of awesome audiobooks too. As you can see, I have lots of time on my hands.”
“Ever think about getting a part time job?”
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure anyone would want to hire someone like me.”
I’m about to ask what he means and then he shouts, “Time to flip the other one.”
“Oh. Right. I’m supposed to be cooking.”
He laughs. “Yeah. Good thing I’m here. Please call me if you decide to use the stove again.”
“Are you going to offer supervising services now?”
“I did say whatever you needed, didn’t I?”
“You did.” When my food’s done, I plate the pancakes and carry them to the table. I hang my cane on the chair and thank him for his help as I’m lowering myself into my seat. I sit too close to the edge, almost sliding onto the ground, and lean on the table as I guide myself back.
“You sure you’re good?” he says, his voice cracking.
“I’m sure. I can handle things from here. I remember where my mouth is.”
He laughs. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Thanks again, Raf.”
“You’re very welcome, Henry.”
I end the call and scoot closer to the table, lifting a forkful of food to my smiling lips. After I clear my plate, I set it in the dishwasher and make my way back to the couch. The robot voice is worse than I remember, and it’s really hard to ignore Rafael’s words echoing in my head . . .“Anything you need.”
Eight
Rafael
It happened again. My eyes blink open and my hands shake against the steering wheel. Blood is caked under my nails and a plastic bag rests in my passenger seat. I stopped looking inside them after the first time, wanting to pretend the last few didn’t have clothes stained red with a heavy-metal stench. All I know isI have to get rid of them. I have to bury them in a place someone will be less likely to look and far away from where I wake up.
Glancing out the window, my chest tightens. I don’t know where I am. Nothing around me is recognizable. A raggedy trailer sits on a hill surrounded by what looks like several project cars. The front door swings open and the porch looks three steps away from fully caving in.
What did I do when I was in there? No doubt I was. My fingers tighten around the wheel, my heart thudding so loud it’s all I can hear. Some answers I’m better not knowing. I’ve been in this same situation too many times, not wanting to know the truth. Not wanting to find proof of how fucked up I really am. But how can I stop if I don’t know?
I keep thinking I’m better and have put days like this behind me, but then I wake up parked somewhere I’ve never been before, with blood on my hands or my clothes and zero recollection of how it got there. Tears sting my eyes and I can’t stop watching the banging door. It’s growing as loud as my pulse. I don’t need to know what’s inside. What will it really help? I’ll go home like I usually do. I’ll shower after leaving my shoes outside, and I’ll wash whatever bad I may have done off my clothes. I’ll scrub my car to be on the safe side and go another week without sleeping.
I’ll keep going while waiting for whatever I can’t remember to catch up to me. For the cops to show up in front of my door and make me face what I’ve been trying to run away from. Maybe I should save us all time and turn myself in now. Only I don’t know what I’d be confessing to. My eyes fall to the bag on my seat. I can hand them whatever’s in there. Maybe it’ll be all they need. When I told my family they were better off living far away, I meant it. My brother thinks I can get better, but I think it’s too late for that.
Sucking in a breath, I slowly open the car door and lay one foot on the ground. I inhale and exhale deeply, my breath fogging around me. I’ll have to see what I did eventually. Wouldn’t it be better to do it on my own terms?
Legs feeling like they’re weighed down to the ground, I get all the way out and carefully close the car door behind me. One foot moves slowly in front of the other, and before I know it, I’m standing on the creaking porch. The worn-out wood sounds like it’s ready to snap under my feet at any given moment. My hand reaches in front of me to stop the squeaking of the waving door, and I step inside the dark house.
The air gets more frigid the further I go, and none of the light switches work when I flip them. There’s no power, and the silence is so still it’s unnerving.
“Hello?” My voice shakes, and when no one answers, I take out my phone to use the flashlight to look around. Moldy food sits on the small counter, the putrid smell making my nose curl. Lifting my hand to my face, I pace around and circle the whole area until I’m sure no spot has been overlooked. No one is in here but me. Needles cover the corner of a badly stained mattress on the floor and empty beer bottles are discarded around it.
Awful things happened here but it doesn’t look like I was involved. Whatever I took part in must have happened outside somewhere. Except I don’t find what I’m looking for out there either. A phone with a different ringtone than mine goes off in the distance and I follow it. I’m led to a pond, and the ringing is coming from a metal boat.
Teeth clenching from the cold, I tighten my jacket around me as I lean down to grab the small black device lighting up at the bottom. Hitting answer, I lift it to my face, and my breaths grow ragged but I don’t say anything, waiting for the other person to talk first.
