Apocalypstick

  #

  It was a tough night. I was exhausted from the long drive, and whatever I did with the rest of the day, but my sleep was fitful and restless. My dreams were invaded by the couple selling their home in Greenwood Gardens.

  I had to watch them living their perfect lives, in their perfect home, with their perfect dog, knowing that just by being happy together, watching ridiculously banal sitcoms, and eating their baked chicken and vegetables; just by living their perfect, boring lives, they mocked me. How could I ever have what they had? I would never be worthy of another person’s love. Not like that.

  I dreamed about my mother, too, and the all-night sleepover parties. Sometimes, a different man would come over every night, and she would lock me in my room. One night, three men stayed, and when they left, my mother didn’t come open my door. I was eight years old. Aunt Sandy found me two days later, still trapped in my room. She said my mother was in heaven. Not likely.

  As tired as I was, I forced myself to get up. I wanted to leave before the room next door turned into a crime scene. I drove around town for a while, letting the van go where it wanted. This town was like every other. I found a mall, an elementary school, and a few churches. But not far from Greenwood Gardens, I found and old quarry. It was abandoned and very peaceful.

  The pit was deep; a hundred feet, maybe two. I wasn’t very good at guessing that sort of thing. I stood a while, just staring down at the glassy water and the jagged rocks, but the peace was stolen by screaming gulls. They swarmed like insects, diving and fighting for a position on a blue crumpled SUV sticking out of the shallow water. Something about it nagged me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I wondered if the driver went in on purpose. To be honest, I thought about jumping in, too. I even stood with my toes right on the edge and my arms stretched out like wings for balance, but I fell backwards instead of into the pit.

  “Coward,” my other voice said. “You can’t even kill yourself right.” I laid there and cried for a while, but my growling stomach made me move again. I drove to the mall, ate some Chinese food on a Styrofoam plate, and then went upstairs to watch the new Star Trek movie.

  I was disappointed that Shatner wasn’t in this one, but Greenwood Gardens kept intruding into my thoughts, and I couldn’t enjoy it, anyway. I drove to Maple Drive, and stopped in front of number 108. It wasn’t dark yet, but the lights were all on. Even though I knew it was bad for my poor planet, the light was pretty to look at.

  I let my thoughts wander into the house.

  The handsome man puts a bowl of dog food on a floor mat, while the lady cooks in three different pots. Something smells delicious in the oven, too. He starts to clear the table of a bunch of paper bags with rope handles, but she says to leave them.

  “We’ll eat in the living room,” she says.

  He sets up little folding tray tables by the couch, and they eat together, while Shirley waits patiently at their feet for something to drop. They watch the same boring show on their TiVo, laughing in time with the fake studio audience.

  They trade stories about their day while they clean up. She did some shopping, and he met with an architect who had never heard of physics.

  “Are you going to show me what’s in the bags?” he asks.

  “I thought you might like to see them on. Play your cards right, and I’ll model for you later,” she says with a slutty smile. They kiss, and he heads towards the stairs, stopping at the front window to look at the strange van parked outside.

  “I think someone’s checking out the house, Babe.”

  “Well, don’t be rude, David, invite them in,” she says, but she’s just kidding.

  So that’s his name. David.

  I snapped out of my daydream and looked up to see David staring at me through the tall, narrow window by his front door, just like I imagined. I must have lost track of time, because it was suddenly dark. I watched him for a second, and then drove away.