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Life As He Knew It. |
| Written by Nunyo Bidness | |
| Saturday, 23 August 2008 | |
"Hello," he said, pausing and putting his bleeding hand back into his pocket. It was beginning to turn red through the denim. "May I come in, Crash?" "You know I don't go by Crash much anymore." Dan nodded. "Fair enough." "Come in. I'd avoid sitting on the couch if I were you, but the chair is fine." He nodded again and closed the door behind himself, and I watched a single drop of Dan's blood drip off the knob onto the carpet. "I have orange juice but it's heavy on the pulp," I said, while he took a seat in the chair. "Any without pulp?" "No." "Any oranges?" "No." "Any juice without pulp?" "I have beer." "Any juice without pulp?" "No." "Alright," he said, running his hands over his forehead and hair, leaving a fresh red streak that looked like a faded racing stripe. "I'll pass. Thanks though, Crash." "Dan?," I said. "Yeah?" "I don't go by Crash much anymore." "Sorry," he said. "What about water?," I offered. "Sure. Is it cold?" "I have ice." "No ice. Lukewarm, if it can be. Anything cold stings some of my teeth," he said. "But if it's cold already, it's fine. Cavities, I think. A few of them." I filled up a glass of water from the faucet and heard Dan flipping through my records. I poured a glass of orange juice for myself, sipped a little, and poured it down the drain. It tasted like ****. I put my glass on the counter and went back into the room. Dan was going through my O's. I gave him the glass of water, and he took a sip. "May I use your bathroom?" "Yeah. On the other side of the kitchen." I heard his footsteps on the linoleum floor and then I didn't. Peering around the corner, I saw him holding a picture frame. He looked back at me. "This is a good picture of her." "Yes." "She's beautiful." "I know." He hung the picture back up on the wall and shut the bathroom door behind him. I heard him vomiting. I grabbed his glass and laid back on the couch, sipping from the glass. It came in long, heavy spurts, about five or six times, echoing softly through the apartment. It stopped, and a minute later, Dan came out and sat in the chair. "Mind if I fill my glass back up?," he said. "No. But can you get me one while you're at it?" "Want ice?" "No." "Your teeth hurt, too?" "No. I just don't have any ice." He brought back two glasses of water without ice, sat in the chair, and took many long drinks before sighing. Dan sighed before talking. The louder the sigh, the more he had to say. This was a short sigh that didn't seem rehearsed, like usual. "I sold everything," he said. I sipped my water and adjusted the pillow behind my head. It was in a scratchy brown pillowcase that apparently matched the couch. "I didn't get much for anything. But the important part is that I sold it. Well, I didn't sell everything. I gave my mom's house to my sister. She probably hasn't gotten the letter yet, so you know that before she does. My car is in the garage. That's hers now too. You know that before her, too. But everything else I sold." "How much did you get?" "Not much," he said. "Did you sell the suitcase?" "Yes." "Did you make enough to cover the suitcase?" "No." Both of our glasses were empty, so I took them to the kitchen and filled them. I looked at the picture frame, which now had a light, bloody fingerprint. She was beautiful. Maybe she'll leave with me. I shouldn't think about that, though. But maybe she will. "Do you want ice, Dan?" "No. But can you make it an orange juice instead?" "Yeah." I brought back my water and his orange juice. He took a sip and told me it was awful. I told him it was old and he poured it out in the sink and came back with water. "Why are you bleeding, Dan?," I asked. "I took a cab here and a sedan t-boned us at the intersection down the street. The driver wasn't paying attention and slammed on his brakes, but still slid through the red light." "Anyone hurt?" "I'm not sure." I got up and took the needle off the record, pulled the record off and put it in the sleeve. I opened the top cabinet door, and slid it into it's place in the B's. "How long have you been living with her?," he asked. "It isn't that. She lives with me." "But this is her place." "It was until she left me." "So she was living with you at her place?" "Until she comes back." "You're not good at getting them to come back," he said. "Then you can get used to calling it my place." Dan coughed a larynx-rattling cough, and put it to bed with the rest of the water in his glass. "Can I clean up my face and my ear?" "What about your hand?" "That too." "Why'd you sell the suitcase?" "Can I clean up, first?" "No." "I sold it because it was the right time to sell it." "It wasn't even yours." "Neither was she." "I haven't sold her yet." Dan got up and went to the bathroom. The faucet ran on and off for a few minutes, and most of the blood that was caked on was gone. His ear had a cut that separated part of the top and the bottom into two distinct pieces. His hand was gashed and swollen, but he did his best to wrap toilet paper over the cut and scotch taped it to his hand. "It wasn't yours." "I know." "Who has it?" "The cab driver." "The cab that you were just in?" "Yes," he said. The blood leaking into the toilet paper on his hand stopped spreading. "I gave it to him for the cost of the fare." "Dan?" "Yeah." "Get out." He got up, pulled out a record from the middle cabinet which was J through P, and placed the needle down lightly. I knew the record from the twelve years before the last one and a half. I knew it well and so did he. It meant we weren't going anywhere until this record was done. "I haven't heard this in awhile," he said. "Did you sell your records, too?" "Yes." "I'm sorry, Dan." "It's better that way." "I still would have liked my suitcase, though," I said. "Me too." He lit a cigarette and gave it to me. He lit another one and gave it to himself. "Can I have this record?" "No," I said. "And I'm getting a beer." "Can you get me some orange juice?," Dan asked. I took his glass, filled it, and brought back two beers. He took a deep drink from the juice and dumped it back into the sink, and we opened our beers. "That's awful juice," he said. "Thanks for the beer." The record spun on the player, the most valuable thing in the apartment. I bought it four years ago. It was made by a modern Japanese company but it had the wood lining that was a trait of older technology. It was charming and bulky, matching the speakers that sat on the floor next to the table that the player was on. I bought everything at the same time after hearing Dan's for the first time. It was all more expensive than I could afford, and I borrowed records from Dan until I paid off the system and was able to buy my own. My records, my player, my speakers, and my receiver were the only things that I wouldn't leave behind from this apartment. I was going to have to leave if Dan sold the suitcase. I would have to find somewhere to store everything until I was ready to come back. "Are you lying about the suitcase?" "No," he said. "You can see if the cab is still there. It might be." "Do you think I could put my system and my records in your house?" "It's not my house." "Do you want another beer?," I said. "No," he said. "Can I put them in your sisters house then?" "You can ask her." "What's her number?" "She doesn't have one." I knew I was going to have to go back to New York and settle things with my wife, if he wasn't lying about the suitcase. She wouldn't be happy. I wasn't happy either, but the suitcase was her only reason for supporting me. She'd stop giving me money if I lost my leverage. I finished my second beer, and flipped the frozen record to the B-side. I liked the B-side more. "Dan." "Crash?" "I don't go much by Crash anymore." "Does Jane know you by Crash?" "No." "Does Sarah?" "That depends on how much you told her about me." "Not enough to keep her from leaving me for you," said Dan. "Apparently not." "Sure you don't want another beer, Dan?" "No. Do you have vodka?" "It's that bad?" "No," he said. "I have some." "Can you pour a glass of orange juice and mix some in?" "Sure, Dan." I made the drink, grabbed the picture frame, and brought them both out to Dan. I went back and got the vodka for myself. We both knew it. "I'll leave, Dan," I said, handing him the picture frame. "I'll be honest. I didn't see you coming out on top of this one." Dan sighed. It was a long one, and it was chased by a long swig of his orange juice and vodka. "Love conquers everything, Crash." I finished my drink. I poured another one for myself and Dan topped off his drink. The record kept spinning, and the B-side was almost done. "Do you love Sarah?," I asked. "Yes," he said. "She left you pretty quickly." "That's because she didn't know what you were like." "Fair enough," I said. "Do you know where Sarah went?" "No," I said. "Do you know when she's coming back?" "No." "I'm sorry about the suitcase, Crash." "It's probably better that way," I replied. I finished my drink and poured another He lit a cigarette and gave it to himself, then lit another one and gave it to me. "Do you love Jane?," Dan asked. "No." "Do you love Sarah?" "You know I don't." "Do you hate me?," he asked. "Enough to love Sarah." We smoked our cigarettes and drank our drinks. Dan won. He wanted it enough to push the action, so he did, and it worked. I had nothing to lose anymore. He called my bluff; I didn't love Sarah, and she didn't want me anymore anyways, and I didn't love Jane, and she wouldn't want me anymore. I thought about what was next. Jane and I would soon be divorced, since I no longer had Sarah to keep Dan from getting rid of the suitcase. "Think the cab driver is okay?," I asked. "Crash?" "Yeah, Dan." "You can keep your stuff at my sisters place. I'll say it's mine." "Thanks," I said. Dan reached for his cigarettes but he only had one left. He offered it to me but I didn't take it. The last of anything shouldn't go to the defeated. "Can you move it for me?," I asked. "Yeah," he said. "You can call me or come by if you find somewhere to take it." "Okay." I finished my drink and the vodka was gone. "Dan?" "Yeah." "Did you have to screw with Jane and I, too?" Dan put the cigarette in his mouth, lit it, inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Did you have to steal Sarah away?" It's a shame. They were both beautiful girls and I was having a wonderful time. The record finished spinning and sat dead on the turntable. "It really is a great record," I said. "Crash?," he said, eyeing me through the fading smoke. "Yeah?" "Get out." Copyright 2008 Nunyo Bidness |
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