Day 361 - Breakup Story

Breakup Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The hot afternoon sun was shining down. Nancy sat in the cabin of the rental truck, eating a fast food hamburger. She took a long sip from her soda and grabbed a handful of French fries. It was greasy and messy, but that was in part what made it taste so good. Fast food in general, but hamburgers especially, worked that way – if it tasted good, it was bad for you and it was sure to make a mess.

Brooklynn yelped at her. Nancy looked over at her dog, a brown and black Yorkshire Terrier. Perhaps Brooklynn was hungry. Perhaps she just smelled the food and was reacting. Or perhaps she was tired of being cooped up inside the truck. Nancy had been driving for three days and probably had at least another three to go. She was moving cross-country, looking for a fresh start after a messy breakup.  Maybe Brooklynn was starting to miss Brooklyn, and was realizing she was never going back. Brooklynn would have to get used to it, because Nancy was not going back.

Nancy was hot and sweating. Her back hurt from driving too much. Her clothes smelled and were covered in dust and dog hair. Her left arm was beginning to glow red as she was getting too much sun hanging it out the window as she drove. She could use a break from the road and was looking forward to getting to sleep in her own bed again someday. She didn’t know when exactly that would be. She had a friend with a couch waiting for her in Los Angeles, but not her own room and not her own bed. Her bed would go into storage, with no set time for it to come out again. She would be living out of boxes for the foreseeable future. But she had needed a fresh start and she was going to get it.

Nancy looked at her finger tips – her nails were bright red, but two were already ruined. She had just spent a lot of money on herself – a day at the spa, getting her nails and hair done. After the breakup she felt like spoiling herself, as if that would make her forget, as if it would make the past the past and lock it there. She had spent the money without thinking that she was going to have to pack her things and load a truck less than twenty-four hours later. The cracked nail stood out as a painful reminder of the entire breakup ordeal. She didn’t regret spending the money; she just wished she had planned things out a little bit better. The last thing she needed right now was one more symbol of her failed existence.

Nancy fed Brooklynn a taste of the hamburger. Probably a mistake, as the grease would probably run right through her, but for the moment Brooklynn seemed appeased.

Nancy sat back and smiled. She was done – done with the past, done with the bullshit, done with the lazy miserable boyfriend that had made her move across the country in the first place. Kirk was gone. That chapter was over, closed, finished, done. She was going to get to see her friends again. She was going to get to be herself again. She was going to get to all the do-overs and second chances she had always wanted. That was the hope anyway. She had no job, no immediate plans, and no bed. But she had her hopes. And she had Brooklynn. She had left her boyfriend, but she had kept her best friend.

Day 360 - Pawn Story

Pawn Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Wyatt had seen the name “Alex” appear on the phone ID. He didn’t answer it. He was in no mood for his family. He checked the message later when he had more time and felt like dealing with her rambling ways. Normally Alex talked and talked and talked, but didn’t really end up saying much of anything at all. Wyatt usually found talking to her to be annoying, despite any love he might actually feel for his kid sister. She was chipper and bouncy with a positive outlook towards everyone and life in general. She was the opposite of Wyatt. He was sour and pessimistic and quiet and only saw the bad in the world. He loved her, but he couldn’t always stand her. He needed to work up the energy to deal with her. It was just so much hard work sometimes, and he just didn’t have the energy right away in that moment.

When he finally heard the sound of her voice in the message, he instantly regretted not picking up earlier. She was shaky, and instantly scared him. “It’s me… Alex…” she began. There was a long pause and he could hear the sound of her sniffling. “Wyatt, it’s… It’s dad. Come quick.”

Wyatt looked at the phone. For a moment it was too much to consider and he wasn’t able to process it all. Wyatt’s father hadn’t always been a very good father and Wyatt had done more than his fair share in helping to raise Alex, but his father was still his father and Alex was still his baby sister. He wanted to save her from whatever she needed saving from. He wanted to love his father and hate his father and have his father be gone, but also have his father be alive and well. There were too many conflicting emotions and too many conflicting outcomes. He needed to call Alex. He needed to call all his sisters.

Instead he just looked at the phone and thought about the irreversibility of the past.

Lou was an old friend. He had known Wyatt since Wyatt was a teenager and would visit Lou’s pawn shop. Wyatt was fascinated by the many strange and mysterious items it held. He used to go into the shop when he should have been in school and would try his hand at stealing things. That trick never worked. Lou always knew. Wyatt would swear he was the only one in the aisle or that Lou was in the backroom, but he always knew and would appear just as Wyatt was about to pocket something. Lou seemed to have a second sight sort of ability with those things. Or maybe he just knew how teenagers thought and what they were up to. Lou was good at stopping Wyatt from getting into trouble and he never made things worse by calling the cops. Lou liked Wyatt. Even if Wyatt wasn’t a great kid, he was a good kid, and he had a certain charm about him. He was arrogant and a know-it-all but showed a curiosity for learning and was especially interested in the history of items. Lou liked that. He liked his shop and he liked his possessions and he liked to talk about them. As long as he could tell Wyatt all about them, he would help keep Wyatt out of trouble.

When Wyatt’s father disappeared the first time, Lou helped out and paid some bills and eventually gave Wyatt some part-time work at the shop. He never let Wyatt quit school though. Wyatt had to help raise his sisters and Lou decided to help raise Wyatt. Wyatt never understood what exactly Lou saw in him at that early of an age, but he was always glad that Lou decided to invest in him. He owed Lou a lot. He would feel indebted to Lou for the rest of his life. Lou wasn’t his father, but he sure was a good man to have around.

Lou didn’t mind helping Wyatt clean out his father’s house. The responsibility fell to Wyatt or maybe he just claimed it before his sisters could make up their mind what to do. Wyatt just behaved that way – a self-fulfilling prophecy as a martyr and a victim and a willing participant and a control freak. He always wanted the responsibility, even if he wanted to reserve the right to bitch about it.

Wyatt gave it all away; Lou could have anything he wanted.

“You’re gonna want something, right? Something to remember your old man by?”

Wyatt shook his head no. “If you don’t want it, I might burn it to the ground.”

“You don’t know, kid. You might be pissed at the man right now, but you might really miss him someday.”

“Lou, you’re a good friend and a better man, but you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve been missing my father for twenty years. None of this junk is ever going to fix any of that. You take every little thing you can get any use out of. I’ll find someone to junk the rest. You consider that back pay for all the help you ever gave me.”

“What’s going to happen to the house?”

“Alex is going to take it. She might bounce around a lot, but maybe she’ll finally find a home.”

“And you? Where are you going to go?”

Wyatt looked off into the distance and was quiet while he thought about things. “I don’t know yet. Somewhere. Maybe anywhere.” Wyatt realized he really could go anywhere and do anything now; he was finally free.

Day 359 - Signs Story

Signs Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The baseball bat swung through the air. Al braced himself for the impact. It was a momentary muscle reaction that he didn’t expect to have. He had swung a baseball bat before, but it had always been at a ball. He hadn’t swung it out of anger or malice or venom. Here he was, swinging for the fences. The dining room table was set for six with expensive dinnerware, crystal glasses and wine flutes. He was going to smash the hell out of it. His moment of hesitation didn’t come from second-guessing this course of action, it came from the brief thought that swinging a bat like this and hitting into something like this was going to have a direct and reverse impact back against him. He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know if the table would give or if perhaps his wrists and elbows would take the brunt of the force. Perhaps he was setting himself up for self-injury. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. For one brief second, he reconsidered and thought about pulling back. But it was too late. The bat was swinging too fast and it was going to hit that table.

Al smashed the table. He smashed the dishes. He smashed the plates. He swung the bat over and over and kept beating that table with all his might. He pounded it and broke things and smashed them into bits. He smashed and he broke until he was exhausted and his muscles ached. He dropped the bat and let his arms hang down. He was breathing hard. He looked at the mess he created. It looked like chaos. A smile crossed his face. Al felt great.

The Smash Shop was a warehouse of products and possessions that someone could pay to destroy. They claimed it was good for stress. They claimed it would help people cleanse themselves of their more base desires. Al didn’t know about that. Al just knew that he wanted to destroy a family dinner. The proprietors didn’t ask a person why they wanted to destroy what they wanted to destroy. Al didn’t offer an explanation. He just asked if they could provide him with the opportunity. The manager-on-duty showed him a variety of tables and dishes and accessories. Al picked out what he liked with meticulous care. He was creating a very special occasion for himself and he treated it as such. When it turned out they were missing pieces of silverware, because really how was someone going to smash that with a bat, he brought in his own so he could try.

Al paid his money and had the experience that he wanted and walked out happy. He had destroyed a perfect looking celebratory dinner in smashing fashion. It was such a sweet release of ecstasy. The advertisements were correct – it was an excellent stress reliever.

Al walked outside. It was still light out, still mid-afternoon. He was reminded painfully that he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. He was alone. No one was expecting him and there was no one for him to call or to try to go see. Everyone had something to do or someplace to be. Not Al. He was all alone.

Al walked through the parking lot towards the street. He had walked there and he was going to walk home. He thought he might try to find a coffee shop or diner. He could sit and be around people and maybe talk to someone. He didn’t want to be alone. He thought it would be nice to be with someone, even if it wasn’t anyone he knew. He thought about the women he could call. None of them would be around, or at least that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t good at keeping up relationships. He didn’t expect any of them to be sitting by the phone with nothing to do waiting for his call.

As he walked down the street, a street sign caught his attention. It was blank. Not like someone had torn down a sign, or vandalized a sign or painted over it. It was just blank, like the correct image hadn’t been printed on it. It was diamond-shaped and yellow and should have indicated something like a pedestrian crossing or a winding road up ahead or some other sort of warning. But instead it was blank. There was nothing to it. And yet some worker had gone ahead and set it up. Maybe they hadn’t noticed. Or maybe they were lazy and didn’t care. Or maybe the sign had been put up as some other sort of warning. Al wasn’t sure what it meant. He looked at it and contemplated things. He was hoping to find some word of wisdom or a bit of advice. He became convinced the sign was trying to tell him something specifically. It was a warning for him. There was a message, a lesson, somewhere in that empty sign. He was supposed to realize something.  He just couldn’t figure out what.

Eventually Al continued walking along his way, down the open road, towards some greater unknown, his day not quite as bright as it had been before.

Day 358 - Anticipation Story

Anticipation Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The music was pounding; the heavy bass could be felt pulsing in their muscles. Their lights were low, having been replaced with dark colored bulbs and black lights. The garage had been built with a guest room on the second floor. The room was full of smoke and teenage kids. A strobe light was set to a slow flicker. The smoke and the lights created a broken feel; the night was seen in shattered moments, not a full or consistent stream of events. It was free flow stream of consciousness. People appeared and disappeared. Movement was stilted and short. People were posed in moments like art, and lost in meaning.

Katie’s parents were away. No one cared where. That wasn’t the point. That wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that the stage was set for them to have their moment. It was a moment of freedom, a moment of release. It was made to just be a moment to live in and experience the immediacy without it having to be a moment that would matter later.

Katie danced slowly. She twisted and turned and moved to her own rhythm. She moved to the music, but she was making something totally that was her own. Everyone else was fast and eager and a little bit dirty. Katie just moved and looked like she was the music come alive.

Vick sat back on the couch and watched the dance floor. He opened one eye and closed the other. Then he opened the closed eye and shut the other one. Back and forth, back and forth. Right and then left. Left and then right. He was mindlessly cutting the room in half. He was feeling something of his own. He wasn’t paying attention to the music. He wasn’t paying attention to the beat or the drumming bass. He was just feeling his own flow. Half the room, then the other half. Half the people, then the other half. The strobe kept flashing and everything was stutter-stepped motion. It was broken and disjointed.

A pattern rose. The strobe flashes, the dancing in repetitive synchronicity with the repetitive music beat, and his left eye, right eye change in view. Everyone was in step. Everyone was doing the same, feeling the same, creating the same. Everyone was the same. Except for Katie. She was her own. She was different. She was on her own wavelength. And Vick finally saw.

Vick had looked at Katie before, but he hadn’t really been watching her. He had seen her at parties. Everybody had seen her before. She was well known for doing her thing. She was a dancer that knew dancers and they all seemed to run together and live by their own rules. But Vick had never seen her like this before. She seemed so free. She seemed to have escaped the banality that was their shared existence. She was living in her own little world and he was just looking in from the outside, one broken viewpoint at a time.

He wanted to stand up and cross the room and be with her, but he didn’t want to ruin it. She was a perfect picture right now. To include him would only spoil the perfection. To attempt to reach her would only make him realize she was untouchable. To try would simply ruin it. She was in a different place, on another plane, and he was just an outside observer. He needed her. She didn’t need him. She was whole. His legs realized something that his mind hadn’t quite figured out yet. And so he sat and watched. It was almost nothing, but it was slightly enough and all that he deserved to be a part of. He was better just for getting to watch her perfection. He was spirited away and got a chance to be part of something pure and energetic and beautiful.

Katie simply danced. She had no idea what Vick was seeing or thought he was watching. She just danced and didn’t worry about a single other thing.

Day 357 - Recurrences Story

Recurrences Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“Don’t I know you?”

Luke turned and looked at the woman to his left. The question echoed in his mind – “Don’t I know you…” over and over and over again. He didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t mean much in that moment. Luke had been sitting at this bar stool long enough to lose track of time. She had that intangible quality of confidence mixed with sarcasm and humor. He did not recognize her, but he did indeed want her to sit down.

“I guess that depends on whether or not that’s a pick up line.”

“Was that?”

“I... don’t know?”

There were too many drinks making their way through his system. He really wasn’t on top of things or in any position to flirt. But she sat down anyway, so apparently he was doing something well enough.

“You should figure that out. Seems like that’s something you should know.”

“I’ll let you know.  Sit and have a drink with me and let me try to come up with some sort of pick up line.”

“One. But that’s it. I’ve had too many tonight waiting for someone to impress me. A girl can’t wait all night.”

Luke was pretty sure that one drink would lead to more. He had to be careful though. They had both clearly had far too many drinks already. Too many and there wouldn’t be much of a night left.

O’Shea’s was little more than a hole-in-the-wall dive bar. It had a long bar on one wall but was just barely wide enough to fit in a handful of tables. There was a small stage area by the front door with room enough for two or maybe three people to squeeze in. It seemed like the bar was an afterthought. There was hardly any space for it – perhaps at one time it had been attached to the restaurant it was next to. Perhaps not. Perhaps the owner of the building was just trying to maximize his rent. Or perhaps the building had been poorly conceived and strangely designed. Whatever the case, it was a very small location, with enough room for maybe twenty or thirty patrons if they were lucky.

Elsie sat at the bar with her friend Tammy. They had been up and down the street all night. The neighborhood was full of tiny bars and restaurants, and there had been several different bands playing at different points in the night. They had high hopes for their Saturday night, but as it was turning out, it was just long and full of too many drinks.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind them, “It’s you again.”

Elsie turned to see who was behind her. It was a short man with an even shorter friend. They were average in just about every way she could think of – plain faces, plain clothes, short hair – everything was pretty nondescript. They could have been just about any other guy in the bar.

“Yeah I don’t know you.”

“We met earlier. At The Brother’s Brew Pub.”

She squinted her eyes but his face didn’t clear up at all. He was a blur and she had had more than enough to drink.

“I don’t think so.”

“We played shuffle board—“

“Yes!” Shuffle board. She remembered that. She couldn’t exactly tell by looking at him that this was the guy that she had played shuffle board with, but it did seem highly probably that it had occurred. “I totally kicked your ass at shuffle board.”

“I wouldn’t say kicked—“

“I did. Totally. I remember that. You were kinda funny.”

“Thanks?”

“Sit down and buy me a drink. What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He sat down and motioned to the bartender.

“Yes. I was following you,” he answered sarcastically. “We were totally following you. That was our goal for the night.”

“It’s a good goal. But I’ll tell you now that I’m not going home with you.”

“Why would you even say that? Did I ask for that?”

“No, but you will. At some point you will. And I figure I should get that out of the way early.”

“I think you already told me that.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. Earlier.”

“At… the other place.”

“Yeah. There. And at The Last Shot, and at—“

“Oh my God – how many times have we met?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

“And I’m not going home with you.”

“Apparently not. But I’m not sure I believe you.”

“You should. I’m a woman of my word. Tonight is not the night for that. I mean, I’m not going to get into my past or your past, but tonight is not the night.”

Elsie suddenly realized she there were two other people there with them, listening to all of this. She had lost track of her friend and his friend and had only been looking at his face, trying to remember him from before and why she had turned him down so many times.

“Who’s… this guy?” she finally asked, pointing at his friend but accidently poking into him. He pulled back and looked annoyed. Apparently sloppy drunkenness was not all that attractive to him.

“This is Ethan. Ethan, this is… ah…”

He stopped and looked at Elsie and her friend. He paused for far too long a moment. Elsie would have reacted faster, but she was quite drunk herself.

“You don’t know my name. I’m really not going home with you now.”

“I thought we already established you weren’t.”

“Don’t change the subject. You don’t know my name.”

“What’s mine?”

“That’s not the point, mister. You’re talking about all the places we’ve been tonight and how many times you’ve hit on me and failed and you don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t think I hit on you that many times. You’ve been talking to me a lot tonight. A lot.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Whatever. You’re not going home with me anyway.”

He and his friend started to leave.

“Don’t be so mad. God. Come back and have a drink with us.”

They stopped, but still didn’t look happy.

“I’m Elsie. This is Tammy. And you are—“

“Luke. And this is Ethan.”

“Grrrreat! Now order me a drink and tell me why you keep hitting on me.”

Ethan hated waiting in line. There was always a line at La Torta. It was arguable whether or not it was ever worth the wait. But when the bars had closed and he was drunk like a skunk, Ethan really had a thing for late night greasy food. La Torta offered all sorts of excellent late night food. Ethan had ordered something. He couldn’t really remember what he ordered. He wasn’t really hungry. And he was tired of waiting. Maybe he should just leave.

He looked over at Luke who was sitting in a booth with his head down between his knees. Maybe Luke had passed out. He couldn’t tell. He hoped that was it. He hoped Luke hadn’t thrown up or was going to throw up or anything awful like that. Hopefully he was just passed out. But if he had, then Ethan wasn’t really sure how he was going to get Luke home. They had a long walk ahead of them and he wasn’t going to be carrying anyone any time soon.

“Heeeey!” some woman yelled as she walked in the door.

Ethan realized it was directed at him.

It was… what was her name again? He couldn’t quite remember. Elise or Lisa or something like that. Ethan was barely on his feet and he couldn’t exactly remember her or her friend.

“Hey. It’s you. You again. I know you. You’re that guy from the bar.”

Obviously she wasn’t doing too well herself.

“Yeah that’s me alright…” Ethan motioned at Luke, as if to remind her that there were two of them.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah I think so. He’s fine. He’ll be fine when the food gets here.”

“Oh… what’d you order? I’m going to order something. Don’t they have a pulled pork sandwich or something like that?”

“Something.”

“Great, order me that,” she said while sitting down at the same booth as Luke.

Ethan was not happy about having to get back in line. He was not happy about overly loud and obnoxiously drunk women. He was not happy about having struck out all night long.

But he ordered the sandwich.

He kept looking over at the table. Eloise and her friend were chatting about something and Luke wasn’t moving at all. None of them seemed aware that Ethan was in line getting them something to eat. None of them seemed to remember that he was a different person than his friend. Ethan was pretty sure that the night was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

Luke woke up after being poked by the cashier at La Torta.

“Go home. You can’t sleep here. You need a cab?” asked the cashier.

Luke wasn’t sure where he was. He didn’t remember anything from the last several hours. He certainly didn’t remember coming into this restaurant. He did remember that he had been out with his friend though. He wondered where Ethan was.

There were three barely eaten sandwiches on the table.

“What happened? Was I with someone?”

“Your friends left without you.”

Luke still wasn’t thinking straight. He didn’t remember being out with a group. He couldn’t imagine why they had left him here.

“Friends?”

“Guy and two girls.”

That meant something to Luke. He remembered something about two girls. He just couldn’t remember a lot.

“You didn’t get their names did you?”

The cashier just stared at him.