Terribleminds Flash Fiction: The Who, The Where, The Uh-oh Challenge

 

 

 

 

My head is pounding.

Feels like I’m the pavement in New York City’s rush hour, a rapid thudding of business people and tourists stepping down without the slightest bit of consideration.

I don’t want to open my eyes. I want to enjoy the darkness a bit longer. It’s the calm before the storm or whatever that saying is. Once I open them I know the routine. Renee coming in with the jabs that quickly turns into the screaming match.

Can’t we just skip that part and get to the make-up sex?

I go on and open them, expecting her there with that expression, the one that plainly states that I’m a fucking loser and she is about to leave me. But she never does, ‘cause if there is one thing I’m good at, it’s talking her into staying.

Instead of our closet-of-a-bedroom, I see the sky.

Early morning I think.

Where the hell am I?

I feel grass on my neck and arms, suddenly pricking and itching, morning dew dampening the backside of my clothes. I sit up. It does a number on my pounding head. I don’t remember ordering the early morning jackhammer.

I’m in a field, about twenty feet from route 5. The road is empty, too early for morning commuters.

I don’t see my truck.

How the fuck did I get out here? 

I try to push through the pounding and remember last night.

Billy’s Tavern. I had only planned on getting one to cap off the long day. Maybe two. Okay, I knew at least two but I wasn’t planning on getting smashed. I can picture a shot glass. Empty. Drops of spilled whiskey on the bar. Fucking Garth Brooks blasting way too loud. Everything is hazy, I can’t remember much more.

Why do I do this to myself?

I stand up and start to walk home. It’s a few miles but the movement seems to help my headache die down a little.

The sun is peeking through the trees as I approach the trailer park. The sky lights up with streaks of pink and purple. Reflections of the light bounce off the aluminum roofs making it almost look nice.

Home sweet home, a single-wide in Leighbriar Trailer Park.

My truck isn’t here either. I probably left it at Billy’s. I will have to get Renee to drop me off later.

I walk up to the door and find it open. Not unusual for us during the day, but its early still. Everything looks the same, dishes stacked in the sink, clothes piles on the floor, the over-sized Zenith tube that you couldn’t pay someone to steal.

“Renee,” I call out.

There is no reply. I get concerned and run back to the bedroom.

She’s there, sitting on the bed. Relief washes over me.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” I begin.

I see black tears streaming down her face. Smeared mascara. I can tell she’s been at it for a while.

“Look, I didn’t mean to. I love you.”

She breaks into a full on fit, shoulders shuddering up and down, a loud wail escapes her mouth.

“I’m serious. It’ll never happen again,” I say as I move forward to her.

Renee quickly sits up and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I hear her crying turning into a gagging sound and then she is puking. I really hurt her this time. I feel awful. The guilt makes me think of drinking. I know that’s the last thing I need right now. I need to fix this.

The bedroom fills with sounds of electronic pop music. Renee’s phone is lying on the bed. I lean over it and see my best friend Paul’s name.

Paul. Why would Paul be calling her?

She runs out of the bathroom and brushes passed me as she snatches up the phone.

“Paul!” she says, her voice full of emotion.

I can hear his voice but can’t tell what he’s saying.

“Yeah, hanging in there… Sure, that would great… Okay, come as soon as you can,” she tells him and clicks off the phone.

“Renee, what the hell is going on? What did he want?”

She’s still not answering me. Instead she goes to the mirror and cleans up her face. She slips on a new shirt and then gurgles some mouth wash. I’m following her like a lost puppy.

“Renee!”

She bulls passed me again, barely missing my shoulder, and then she’s out the door. I watch as she hops into Paul’s just arriving pick-up.

“Renee!”

They drive away leaving me alone in the trailer. My first reaction is to chase after her, but I know that won’t help. She needs time, I guess.

Fucking Paul. He knows I love her. What the hell is he up to?

I sit on the steps just outside the front door. Nothing seems to add up. I start pleading with my brain to give up more memories of last night. Trying to flip through flash cards of mental images stuffed way back in the memory file cabinet.

Hannah the bartender hands me another shot. “Stop being a pussy,” she says. “That ol’ lady of yours sure has got you whipped!” I throw the shot back. Then another. I’ve lost count now.

Inside the trailer the house phone rings. It startles me from my mental search and I debate answering it. Finally giving in to the slight possibility that it could be Renee, I stand and go inside. The phone stops just before I reach it. The answering machine clicks on.

It’s not Renee.

A male voice leaves a message about everything being ready. His voice sounds like a strained solemn. He’s clearly fake-caring. I check the caller ID and see Andrew’s Funeral Home. Then I spot the date. It says Monday.

Monday! It should be Saturday. I went out last night after work. How is it Monday? The machine must be screwed up, that’s all it is.

I walk back to the bedroom. I want to lie down. My head is spinning with crazed notions, none of them giving me comfort.

Just before I get to the bed I see my wallet and keys sitting on the bedside table. My cell phone is next to them, the screen is shattered, the casing cracked and scratched like it had been dragged behind a runaway stallion. I immediately feel around my jeans, sliding my hand across the pockets. No phone. No keys. No wallet.

Remember. Remember. You have to remember. 

My head is doing cartwheels now. I knock my fists against the sides, trying to knock something loose.

“What time is it?” I ask Hannah. She points to the clock above her head. It’s late. Very late. Like I needed to be home hours ago late. I give her a few twenties and nod goodnight. Walking is like a punishment, I think as I stumble out the door. Just make it home and everything will be alright. 
 

My head hits the pillow. My eyelids feel heavy but I fight shutting them, unsure of what will happen when I open them again. I look to the walls, the pictures hanging around the room and on the dressers. Pictures of Renee and I overpopulate the few others of family members.

She’s so beautiful. Why do I treat her like this? 

I see her photos like it’s the first time I’m seeing her. She’s just as pretty as the first day we moved in here. Still so full of life and optimism, no matter how many times I shit on our life.

I’m suddenly longing for her harder than I can ever remember. I need her. I need her touch and her smell. I want to hold her. The longing is so strong I hear her voice.

“Thanks Paul,” she says.

Renee!

I sit up and go into the front room. She’s there hugging Paul.

You backstabbing motherfucker! Get your hands off of her!

They act like they can’t hear me, not even acknowledging me standing there. I fill with rage. I want to break something.
 

Preferably Paul.

I kick the coffee table onto its side. It gets their attention and they end the hug. Both turn and look at the table like it’s a wild animal.

“What was that?” Paul asked her.

“I don’t know, but we can worry about that later. Let me get dressed and then we can go,” she says.

I watch her maneuver past the overturned coffee table and into the bedroom, still avoiding looking at me. The door shuts behind her, leaving Paul and I alone together.

“So how long has this been going on?” I ask.

He walks into the kitchen and grabs a glass, filling it with water. The sound triggers something in my head and I see images. Memory flash cards.

I pull my keys out and drop them immediately. Taking a deep breath I bend down like I’m going under water, I guess an instinct to keep from puking. There are three sets of keys on the ground, all of them moving in circles. I guess wrong twice before I find the real one and pick it up, exhaling all the way to a standing position. The world is suddenly a carnival ride that I’ve been on way too long. Somehow I get the door to my truck open and the right key into the ignition. Dumb luck I suppose. 

Renee swings the door open just as Paul places the glass in the sink with the other dirty dishes. He turns to her. She's wearing a black dress, black shoes, not her usual style.

“Ready,” he says.

“No. But I know we have to,” she replies.

They walk to the door, about to leave me again without a single word. I can’t let her go. Not without talking to her, explaining everything.

They are out the door before I know and I have to chase them to catch up. As I dart down the steps, Paul’s truck starts up. I barely have time to dive into the truck’s bed before he is driving.

“Renee! Renee! Please let me explain!"

I have no idea what I’m going to say. I’m still not even sure what’s going on.

Paul is driving too fast for me to get a good balance. Every time I get to my feet I end up nearly falling out. I try to crawl up to the back window.

The road is doubling, then tripling, then doubling again. I shake my head, begging my eyes to focus on the right road. You've done it before, you can do it again, I tell myself. Then I notice my speed. I'm going too fast. I check the speedometer, but I can't figure out exactly where the red arrow is pointing to.

Paul parks his pick-up around the back of the church. He and Renee are out and walking before I can stand to my feet.

What's going on? What are they doing here?

I hop out and follow them.

“Renee!"

The door closes behind them without even a look back.

Inside its dark. It takes my eyes a second to adjust. There is someone playing the organ. It's a familiar song, but I can't place it. As I round the corner to the nave I see Renee. She is standing alone. Looking down at something. Someone. It's a casket.

I move in closer and recognize the clothes.

I look up to the road just in time to see the ditch. I yank the wheel hard left. Over-correct. Hard right. Next thing I know I see grass, then sky. I think I'm flipping. My head slams the roof. I never put on the seat belt. Why didn't I buckle my belt? The bridge of my nose slams the steering wheel. All I can hear is smashing. Metal and glass breaking. It feels like slow motion. Then I feel like I'm flying. I am flying. Ejected from the truck. Total blackness.

“I died.” The words fall from my mouth like vomit.

Renee is looking down at my corpse. She is crying again. I walk up next to her, try to put my arm around her. I'm suddenly transparent. My arm moves right through her.

“I'm such a fuck up. I'm so sorry baby. I love you so much,” I say.

“I love you,” she replies.

THE END.