Authors: Pete; McCormack
Shelby (36 page)
Parking outside Eric's apartment, I heard the noise of the party before I left the car. I picked up my box of gifts from Lucy.
Inside, the apartment was enveloped in a smoky blue screen of self-induced oblivion. I felt a twinge of pain in my lower back. Coughing, the pain leapt into my chest. Eric's face popped through a maze of faces.
“Shel!”
“Hi.”
“Where the hell have you been, man?”
“Sorry about the concert last night.”
“The ⦠oh yeah, where the hell were you?”
“How did it go?”
“We kicked the shit out o' that place, manâyou look terrible.”
I shrugged.
“What's in the box?”
“Stuff.”
“You want a beer?”
“No, I'm okay, thank you.”
“Y'sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Where's Lucy?”
“Seattle or Frankfurt.”
“Okay, man ⦔ Eric smiled and did a
cheers
gesture with his bottle before sinking back into the quicksand. I pushed my way into the front room, knelt down into something wet, picked up Lucy's photograph from the top of the box and held it to my breast. A knee kicked me in ribs. I didn't respond. I didn't even care, instead getting on all fours and searching through the paraphenalia I kept beneath the couch. Tapped on the shoulder, I looked up to see Eric smiling at me with a beer in his hand and a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth.
“Hey, hombre,” he said, his words slightly slurred, “you sure you're okay?”
Pushing myself up, I embraced him with all the regard I had, kissing him on the cheek, shaking his hand. “Thank you for everything, Eric.”
He seemed confused. About to put his beer to his lips, he stopped, offering it instead to me. I shook my head in the negative.
“You sure you're okay?” he asked again.
I nodded, crouched back down and reached under the couch, scattering books until coming up with my red-bound, New International Version, slightly weathered Holy Bible. It fell open to where I kept the photograph of my family: Gran, Derek, Mom, Dad, me. I took the picture out and stuck it in the lower left corner of the framed picture of Lucy. I stood up with the photographs in hand and picked up
Fish-tail Pie
from the top of the television set. Then I put both into the box of treasures Lucy had given to me. Turning around, I borrowed a packet of matches from a man I didn't recognise. I hoisted the box up, now of considerable weight, and pushed my way through the labyrinth of people and into the cloudy hallway. There was a winding line-up for the bathroom. I surveyed the situation and readied myself. The door opened, I barged in, slamming the door with my foot. I placed the box on the yellow bathmat and turned around to lock the door.
“You asshole,” somebody bellowed from outside, “I got to take a shit!”
I pulled down my corduroys and did just that. The music stopped and through the barrage of voices somebody yelled, “Countdown!” I smiled, pulled two candles from the box and lit them. Then I wiped, flushed, got up and placed the candles on the toilet seat. I turned out the light and ran the bath. Steam started to rise. I kicked off my shoes and undressed slowly, letting each article of clothing drop to the floor on its own accordâa strip-tease of sorts. Gently I caressed my goose bumped body, stopping for a slightly longer time on my nipples and the base of my testicles. There was a thumping on the door.
“Hurry up for Christ's sake!” Thump. Thump. “Fuckin' hurry up!”
I was pleasantly surprised at how much noise from the pandemonium the running water could block out. The flickering candlelight was brilliant across the bathroom walls. I picked up the picture of Lucy and my family and balanced it on top of the toilet against the wall. I looked at it. The warmth of the candle flame was soothing under my chin, the waxy aroma floating through my senses. There was more pounding on the door, barely audible, over the flow of water and music. I positioned
Fish-tail Pie
next to the candles. I stood up and stuck my toe into the waterâthe heat firing emergency synapses in my brainâand slowly ventured in.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” mumbled through the flowing water. I didn't answer. Thump. Thump. “What the ⦔ I kept my eyes on the photographs, flickering in the light.
“Open the damn door, asshole!” I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I slipped my shoulders under the water, opened my eyes and lay motionless. Beads of sweat started to form on my temples. I was amazed at how perfectly designed the bathroom was for setting up a shrine on the toilet. Flat out in the tub I could see everythingâGran, Lucy,
Fish-tail Pie
, the rising steam reminiscent of some ancient medicinal hot spring carved into a mountainside. I closed my eyes and went under. I pictured a river and then a calm little inlet where the rapids had ceasedârich greens and yellows brilliantly dancing off the rippled surface like some cosmic trampoline. I pushed my nose just above the surface of the water and took a deep breath. There was another thump. I smiled into the darkness.
When I woke up the water was tepid, the party was still furiously loud and the music was back on. Climbing out of the bath, I dried off, giving my hair a particularly good swaddle, and put the photographs and
Fish-tail Pie
back in the box. I left the two candles on the toilet seat, still alight. Opening the medicine cabinet, I took out Eric's razor and, testing its sharpness, nicked my thumb. Blood oozed freely out of such a fine and wet laceration. Wrapping the cut with toilet paper, I proceeded to shave without incident. I also flossed and brushed my teeth. Then I folded my clothesâjacket and shoes includedâand put them on top of the box as a makeshift lid. I undid the bathroom door lock, picked up the box and stepped out.
In the hazy, smoky light everybody stopped and stared as I strutted my clean body down the hallway, big box in hand. I asked a young woman putting on her coat if she'd open the door for me. She obliged. A burst of cold air chilled me. I walked down the steps into the night.
“Shel?” a voice yelled from the doorway just as I opened my car door. I turned around to see Eric's head among many. He was grinning widely. “What the hell are you doin', man?”
I shrugged.
“It's fuckin' freezin' out there.”
“There's a quilt in the car,” I said.
“You're butt-naked!”
“I know.”
“Where are you goin', man?”
I stopped, thinking. “I don't know,” I said. “Does anyone want to come?” Nobody moved. I was glad. I stepped into the car, wrapped myself in the quilt and blew them all a kiss. Eric gave me a thumbs up. I drove away.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Pete McCormack
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3358-9
The Permanent Press
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Sag Harbor, NY 11963
Distributed in 2016 by Open Road Distribution
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New York, NY 10038
