The Counterfeit

when he was mowing the lawn. He was dead before he hit the ground. I was eleven.

  I remember a friend I had. He lost his dad young too. We had a bond because of that. We shared pain. He understood better than anyone else what it was like. But, I didn’t understand him. His dad died after a long battle with cancer. And he said I was lucky, he said that all of his good memories were eaten up. He said that I could grow up much more normal than him.

  I never understood what he meant by that. He had time to prepare. He had time to harden. I just looked out the window one summer day, to see if he was done mowing so we could play catch, and I saw his body on the ground. That moment changed who I became for the rest of my life. Without a dad, I was the weird kid at school. Without a dad, I was directionless. I grew up following every whim, every tug of desire I had. I looked for acceptance in everything, but nobody gave me what I needed. I married Angie when I was twenty eight, got divorced a year and a half later. I died before I was thirty. A small, stupid, unimpressive man.

  Interesting that the boy who said he wouldn’t grow up to be normal ended up much more normal than me. The last time I saw him he’d been married for nearly nine years and had three children. I don’t know what he did differently…

  Something is missing in me. There is an emptiness that has been with me for most of my life. And I always assumed that if there was an afterlife you wouldn’t be riddled with holes anymore. I always imagined it was a place much like this, except you didn’t have to keep looking for what was missing. It was already back where it belonged. You were finally whole.

  I will not be able to call this paradise until what’s missing is found. And maybe it’s found in a good woman. I’ll test that theory later today. Delilah gave me her number and said she’d be waiting to hear from me. We have a car trip to take. I honestly hope that she’s the missing piece, because I am miserable. Maybe I shouldn’t have given up the commodities. Sex is invigorating. It’s fulfilling. It’s something I could desperately use right now. Something to lift me up.

  D will be here soon. He’s always good company. He brings with him a certain air. He has confidence about the way he is and the way he does things. His influence is important to the temporary fix until I find something permanent.

  2

  Even though the sky never changes, time is still in effect. There are clocks in nearly every room in this house. According to the one in the master bedroom, it’s a few minutes after 8 a.m. D should be getting here soon. I am tired but I don’t care to sleep. I won’t be able to sleep until I find true rest. And, no matter what I tell D, it is hard to sleep in the bed a man was murdered in. It feels disrespectful. But, the view from the bay window is like none other. It’s intoxicating.

  I need something to focus on to distract the emptiness. The sky is a good foe. It keeps me alert. It doesn’t let me slip into a feeling of comfort. It is monstrous, and feels like it will devour me in my sleep. I am not living in paradise right now. In fact, it’s closer to a nightmare. But, it needs to be this way. It keeps me sharp. It keeps me alive. How pathetic is it to have the thought of suicide when you can have everything you’d ever want?

  I wonder if I would be the first, to willingly opt out of paradise. Somebody must understand.

  DING! DONG!

  That must be D. I get up from sitting on the bed in the master and walk out toward the door. There is far too much shadow in here despite the fact that I’ve turned on all the lights. There is far too much shadow.

  I open the door as the bell rings a second time. It’s not D, but a bald black man in a white dress shirt with a loose, gold colored tie.

  “Do you have a moment to talk, Sir?” he asks, eyes like stone.

  “Sure.”

  “Time is short. The end is coming. Heed my warning, please. Very soon this will all fall away.”

  D warned me of these types.

  “Don’t be swayed. Don’t be deceived. This is not permanent. The end is com—

  HONK! HONK! “Get off his doorway!” D yells from his car. “Take your doomsday prophecies to a weaker mind!”

  The man looks at me. He fishes in his pocket and hands me a timer. “Time is short.” he hurries off of my property as if D would hurt him. The timer in my hand is digital:

  02 D 12 H 53 M 12 S

  And the countdown continues. They are convinced that this is coming to an end. They remind me of the strange group from the church who claimed to have pinpointed the day of the rapture. They quit their jobs, packed their suitcases, and looked up to the sky. But, of course, the day came, and nothing happened. And yet they still found it to mean that the rapture was imminent.

  I’m sure nothing will happen at the end of this timer. I am quite positive actually.

  “What did he give you?” D asks as he walks up to the door.

  “Doomsday clock,” I say sarcastically as I hold it up.

  “Let me see it.” he puts out his hand. I give it to him. Immediately he throws it on the ground, smashing it under his dress shoe. “You don’t need to worry yourself at all with this. This life doesn’t end, Andrew. This world is ever expanding. And it will expand for all time.”

  D is dressed differently today. He actually looks like a realtor. His black dress shirt is somewhat baggy on his thin body, halfway tucked into his black dress pants. His tie is a piercing red. His dreads are pulled back into a loose pony tail.

  I am still wearing the baggy red t-shirt he gave me from yesterday. One thing I didn’t bring with is a change of clothes. I don’t even know how that works. Do they have stores?

  “I’m underdressed today,” I laugh. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes from my past life.”

  “That’s funny, Andrew.” D says with a smile. “I thought ahead. I brought you some pants and a dress shirt. We have some leftovers in the office. I guessed your size. Pants: 30-28. Shirt: Men’s Medium. Is that close?”

  “Dead on, D. Dead on.”

  3

  The clothes fit well. Strange that D and I match again, though. I don’t know what his obsession is with black and red. Maybe because they are colors of power? Either way, I’m much more comfortable in this. Mr. Ericson had some black dress shoes in his closet. We wear the same size surprisingly. I have big feet for my small size.

  I have my car, but D suggested I just ride with him, since we are going to look at other places I can possibly lease after he shows me where my dad lives. I tried to argue but he insisted. He then made a good point, saying that when I visit my dad I won’t want him waiting out in the car. I hadn’t even thought of that before he said something. D will show me where he is and I can go when we’re done looking at places. That’s a much better plan.

  I’m back in the passenger seat, waiting for D to pull away from my place.

  “You have such a view with the sky, but did you notice what the other properties look like from up here?” he asks.

  I shake my head as I look toward where he’s pointing.

  “It’s only from high vantage points such as this one where you get to see the properties like this. Because they are all different sizes, if you get back far enough they look like one big collage.”

  I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. It’s unlike anything you’d ever see on earth. It is one big, living collage. Every property looks like a picture pinned to a dark gray poster board.

  “Can I see my dad’s place from here?” I ask.

  “How good are your eyes?” D laughs. “It’s down in that white area, between a few stacked forests and a mountain view. He’s on a little lake way down there. The drive is beautiful but it is long.”

  “That’s okay,” I reposition myself. “I’ve got good company.”

  D smiles warmly as he pulls away from my property. The road declines almost immediately, leading us down toward the next property.

  “So, my secretary wouldn’t shut up about you.” D hides a smile behind a pretend disinterest.

  “Really?” I sound like a kid with a crush. ??
?What did she say?”

  “Her exact words? She didn’t mince ‘em. She was very upfront—graphic, actually.”

  “What did she say, D?”

  “She said she hopes you call. She said she can’t wait to taste you, and enjoy you, and savor you. That’s the clean version.”

  “Oral?” All of me is standing at attention.

  “That’s just the beginning, Andrew. It was awkward to hear. All I can say is if I were you, I would call immediately.” he chuckles loudly.

  “Yeah. Want to cut the trip short today?” I joke.

  “I’m way ahead of you. This trip can wait. Hell, spend two days with her! Lock the door, draw the shades, and do all the things you desire. She wants it, Andrew. And best of all, she’s real!”

  For some reason, all of my sexual desire fades as quickly as it stood up. Why did D want to talk to her with me out of the room? He has made it clear he doesn’t want me to see my dad. Is it possible he’s setting up roadblocks? Is it possible he told her to do this to keep me distracted?

  There is nothing logical about this hesitation at all. It’s a thought that flew in from nowhere in particular. And yet, it makes sense. After all, I had to choke D to get him to agree to bring me at all. Maybe he takes me for a fool. And maybe I am.

  “On second thought, D.” I interrupt the fun nature of our conversation. “Can you bring me back home? I think I’m gonna call her, maybe I’ll take her for a drive and enjoy her on my beach too.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Andrew. Enjoy yourself.”