David and the Mermaid

          "You will always be alone."

          These were the last words Mel spoke to me, before finishing her glass of wine in a single swallow. She picked up her purse and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her, giving the plaster walls a shake. I started to follow her down the hallway, down the steps and out into the darkness. I thought of the street lamps that hummed and glowed like theater lighting. It felt like somebody was always watching.

          Mel loved people: imitating people, doing favors for people, fucking people. She loved getting dressed up, painting her lips a vibrant red, teasing her jet black hair until it was as big and tangled as a bird's nest. She always looked beautiful, but her beauty would never belong to me. That was the hardest part.

          I put my ear to the door and listened as the sound of her footsteps grew further and further, until finally they disappeared down the echoing stairwell. I knew she'd expected me to follow her, as I always did. "Please don't go," I'd say. "I can't live without you." It felt like reading lines I'd rehearsed too many times. I decided not to open the door.
          I tried calling her the next day, and to my surprise, she answered.
          "What do you want, Dave?" she asked, inconvenienced.
          "I just wanted to tell you that your Sonicare toothbrush is here. And some of your records are here. And that yellow sweater you love. Do you want me to bring them to you? I can come today."
          "No, Dave. No," she said, sounding offended. "Keep them. Take them to the Salvation Army. Please."
          "Fine," I said. I hung up.

          I waited for her to call back. She didn't.
          I threw the sweater and the toothbrush into an old milk crate we'd been using as a recycle bin. I began collecting Melanie's records and throwing them in, The Ramones, Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys. I was never into her loud, fast paced music. Though, I'd pretended to be. I'd simply loved how much the music meant to her, how she'd close her eyes and bob her head, lost in a world that only she belonged to.
          I fell onto the couch and pondered how I could spend my last free hour before my shift at the meat shop. Normally, I'd spend these hours laying on the couch with Melanie, watching TV. She always put her feet in my lap. I missed the way her makeup ran deep into the afternoons, when she'd jump into the shower to wash it all off. Then she'd put it on all over again, a routine I imagined must have felt somewhat repetitive and futile. I knew tonight she wouldn't be there to stain my pillow with her black eyeliner. I'd be alone. I didn't want to be.          
      I decided to call my younger cousin, Anthony. This was always my last resort. I kind of hated Anthony. He'd decided to move to Chicago the same time I did. My uncle rented an apartment next to Wrigley Stadium, just for him, and even hooked Anthony up with a downtown bank job. Meanwhile, I took the first job I could find, cutting meat at the Sunshine Deli. I'd saved up for a deposit on a one-bedroom on the North side. I began practicing french horn in my living room, in hopes of finding an orchestra to join. But my neighbor complained of the noise, and my landlord kindly asked me to never play the french horn again.
          The phone rang and rang. I considered hanging up before it was too late. Just then, Anthony answered.
          "What's up buddy? Haven't heard from you in ages."
          "Not much, man. Just wanted to see if you wanted to take the boat out tonight."
          "Oh, shoot. I already have plans, cuz." Anthony always had plans, somehow. "But, you can take her out if you want."
          I hated the way Anthony referred to his motor boat as if it were a woman. It wasn't a ship with a sail and a mast. It was nothing more than a big pile of fiberglass and blue faded vinyl. The boat was nothing special, but the women seemed to flock to Anthony at the sheer mention of it. "We'll take her out sometime," he'd say.
          "All right," I said. "I'll come get the key."
          I took a train to Wrigleyville, then stopped by Anthony's just long enough to get what I'd come for. He tried to stall me with some story about a girl he'd met the previous night, laughing as he talked, with his shiny horse teeth protruding. There were a few guys in rocking chairs on his front porch, smoking cigarettes. I tried not to acknowledge them. I tucked the key into my pocket and headed back down the steps.
          "Are you taking Melanie with you?" Anthony asked, as I was walking away.
          "Yeah," I said.
          "Well, tell her I said hello!"
          "Yeah, sure," I said.
          The streets were filled with Sunday people, young families with children. They all appeared to be going out for lunch or to the park, things Melanie and I used to do. We didn't want kids. We both agreed that they kind of weirded us out. I weaved around them, not wanting to look at them. Still, they all seemed to stare up at me as I walked by. It was almost as if they knew I didn't like them, and it only made them notice me more.
          When I got to the red line station, I scanned my pass and ran up the steps to wait for my train. I calculated in my head, as I waited, the amount of money I'd saved so far this month by investing in the monthly pass. It was so convenient, I thought, to simply pay one fee per month.
          Finally, a train came into view and screeched down the tracks to a stop. The doors opened, and I rushed in, taking a seat in a row in front of a woman and her daughter, a small girl, who repeatedly kicked the seat beside me. Unaware of her actions, she gazed out the window in wonder at the tops of buildings as the train took off down the track. I stared ahead, watching the people sway.
          "Mommy," she said.
          "Yes, darling?"
          "Why is that man missing hair on his head?"
          Quickly, the woman hushed her daughter and began whispering to her in an angry tone. At the next stop, she dragged the girl by the arm down the aisle and out the door, to wait for the next train, I assumed.
          When the train finally arrived at my station, I stepped off and started the walk to work. As I walked, I rubbed the tips of my fingers over the crown of my head, inconspicuously. Sure enough, my scalp poked through my hair, feeling smooth and bald. I cursed to my self. I was only thirty-one. These kinds of unlucky things only happen to men like me, I thought. I wondered if Melanie had noticed, and if so, why she hadn't thought to mention it.
          When I finally arrived at work, eleven minutes late, I slipped into my apron and quickly began cleaning meat trays.
          When darkness fell, around eight o'clock, the deli closed. I finished putting away the meats, and hung up my apron. I went out and into the night, this time, because I had something to look forward to. Some peace of mind. I stopped at a liquor store and picked up a six-pack of Blue Moon. Then I made my way toward Belmont Harbor, where Anthony's dad's boat bobbed along eagerly in the dark, waiting for me to climb in. There were many boats like this one, among many that were much nicer. In the Spring and Summer, the rich folks kept their boats tied up in the harbor. When the ice came, they all seemed to up and disappear.
          I climbed into Sandy, which was the name of this boat, although motor boats shouldn't have names. I started her engine, and steered her out of the harbor and onto the lake. I'd already finished one beer along my walk, and so I opened beer two. I drank it quickly, hoping to feel it's effects as quickly as possible. Sandy and I putted slowly through the black water toward the pier.
          The skyline of the city came into clear view, it's dark buildings spotted with lit rooms. Once inside the city, it felt like being inside an organism, the streets were veins carrying people to various extremities. It was loud, and bright, and all quite overwhelming. But from the boat, here, quilted within the darkness of Lake Michigan, the city appeared silent and still. The ferris wheel up ahead spun colored lights from the pier, and I watched from a distance as it's gears slowly turned, then came to a halt. The lights went out suddenly, marking ten o'clock.
          I climbed onto the vinyl seats and rested on my back, looking up at the sky. The moon was there, anchored in a dim haze, looking the same as always. Indifferent. I imagined how boring it must be, watching the same creatures do the same things, day after day, for thousands of years. We slept, jacked off, took shits. Nothing about being alive was all that great. Except for beer. And Melanie.
          There were no stars. There hardly ever are. The pollution of light keeps them hidden like sand beneath a rug. Instead, we look for constellations in planes, and sometimes helicopters, and we try to decode their meanings. But there are no meanings. Nothing has meaning.
          Beers three and four went down smoothly, with my head laid across the arm rest, my feet kicked up on the bow. I'd turned the engine off, to float here for a while, to fade my mind into something more bearable. Mel would have been proud to see me out of the apartment, like this. She might have even liked to be here. I thought about her teeth. She had so many cavities. I loved her. She probably hadn't purchased a new toothbrush yet. But she had probably kissed somebody by now.
          I may have fallen asleep there. It's hard to tell. But when I sat up, I was covered in a fine layer of dew. I'd drifted quite a ways, so I cranked up the engine and headed for the harbor. My head felt like shit already, spinning, reminding me that I was getting old, and that I'd recently begun balding. I'd pretty much missed my chance at ever finding happiness. I'd probably be dead soon. This was the worst I'd ever felt.
          As I approached the harbor, I heard what sounded like a splash nearby. I slowed to a steady pace, looking around for the source of the sound. I waited until finally, I heard it again. In the distance, I saw what looked like a creature in the water.
          "Who's out there?" I called.
          No answer.
          I putted a little closer to where the sound was coming from, before noticing what appeared to be a human head, attached to a human body. Corpses have been known to show up in Belmont Harbor, but this was no corpse. This thing was alive.
          The head dipped back underwater, then up again, as if it were trying to hide. I steered the boat as close as possible, until finally, the head had nowhere to run.
          "What are you doing out here?" I asked. We were a few hundred feet from land, much too far to be swimming alone. "Are you crazy?"
          "Just go away!" the creature said, in the voice of a young woman.
          "Why? Don't you need some help?" I asked. I squinted to make out her face.
          "No. I'm just trying to get home," she said.
          "Where is home?" I asked.
          For a moment, the girl said nothing.
          "The lake. The lake is my home," she said.
          "What do you mean?" I asked.
          Again, the girl was quiet.
          "I'm a mermaid."
          You probably think I'm fucking with you. That this is some kind of joke. At first, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. But I'd only had four beers. My tolerance was much lower than I'd remembered. I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands to be sure I wasn't dreaming. Sure enough, I wasn't.
          "You're fucking with me," I said, with conviction.
          "Fine. Don't believe me. I don't care," she said, turning to swim the other direction. "Bye now."
          "Wait," I said. "So you have a tail?"
          "I had a tail this afternoon," she began. "But it's gone now. Now I just have legs."
          "What happened to your tail?"
          "A magic fish granted me a wish."
          "Is this a joke?" I asked.
          "Why would I lie to you? I don't even know you."
          I'd never seen a mermaid before, obviously. But I'd heard stories. There were plenty of sightings throughout history. I could have sworn I'd seen a UFO while hiking in Michigan one time. Who was I to say whether or not mermaids existed? Besides, how often do mermaid encounters even happen? Maybe it was fate. A blessing or something like that.
          "Do you want a ride to shore?" I asked.
          The girl thought for a moment before answering.
          "I guess so."
          I lowered the ladder into the water, and the girl climbed up and into the boat. She sat down to a much needed rest. I noticed she wasn't wearing anything. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to shiver. I could see her better now, up close. She had a long, slender body, and big, curious eyes. I dug through the storage compartment for a towel. I tossed it to her, and she wrapped it around her shoulders like a blanket.
          "Thank you for rescuing me," she said, in a hushed voice. "I think I might have drowned out there."
          "Do you have some place to go?" I asked.
          "No," she replied.
          "Well, do you have a name?"
          "Yes," she said. "It's Destiny."
          Dee insisted that I let her wear my underwear, so I removed them for her. I paid for a cab back to my apartment, where I led Dee up the stairs to my door. Once inside, she changed into a dry t-shirt and I, into new boxers. Her hair was beginning to dry, falling into soft curls around her small, pointy breasts. She sat down on the couch and I turned on the box fan I kept in the window, to create a cool and comfortable environment for her. She looked around, taking it all in, having never seen the inside of a human dwelling before.
          "Do you want something to eat?" I asked.
          "Sure, I'm starving," she said.
          I found a can of tuna in the cabinet and dumped it into a bowl with some mayonnaise. I mixed it all up, then spread it on some bread. I cut the sandwich in half and arranged it neatly on a plate with some apple slices. I poured a glass of water, and served my guest, who sat cross legged in front of the glow of the television.
          "I love tuna," she said.
          "Me too," I said.
          Destiny slept on the couch that night, and I slept in my own bed, of course. It was almost sunrise when I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was afternoon once again.
          "I have to go to work soon," I said, to the tiny girl on my couch.
          "Do you want me to leave?" she asked.
          "No, no. You can stay here as long as you'd like," I said.
          "Oh. That's awesome," she said.
          "Yeah, help yourself to whatever."
          I pretty much skipped to work that day, my heart feeling much more full than it had the day before. I arrived fifteen minutes early, and even began cleaning the floors of the deli without having to be asked. I whistled the theme to Andy Griffith as I mopped.
          "What's going on with you, whippersnapper?" asked my boss, Donald. He was used to seeing me melancholy and quiet.
          I knew if I told Donald that I had a mythical creature with a beautiful body living on my couch, he'd never believe me. He'd probably fire me. Donald is a real conservative type, quotes the bible on occasion, and doesn't have much tolerance for the strange or unexplainable.
          "Oh, nothing," I said. "I'm just feeling better lately."
          "Well, that's great, Dave," he said. "I like when you're happy."

          When I arrived home that night, I found Destiny in the same state she'd been in when I'd left. The coffee table was covered in empty packages, bags of chips and containers of cream cheese. Alongside all the other trash sat an open bottle of wine.
          "Where'd you find that?" I asked.
          "I found it in the cabinet. At the top," she said, innocently. "Do you mind?"
          "No, I don't mind," I said. "Is there any left?"
          "No," she said. "Sorry."
          I sat across from her on a bar stool and gazed into her dark eyes. She had no problem making eye contact with me, something I avoid as often as possible. She seemed unmoved by the awkward silence between us. It made me feel comfortable.
          “So, what made you want to be up here?” I asked.
          “I was getting tired of my life. I needed to escape.”
          I thought of the irony in that statement. We humans seek solace in the water. We crave to be a part of it, whether it be floating atop in an old motor boat, or diving deep into it's magical darkness, breathing air from a mechanical lung. I thought about life here on land, how bland it had become. Every place looked pretty much the same. Any time I traveled the land, I longed to be back at my apartment. Nothing was as good as it claimed to be. The same goes for people.
          "Do you want to change clothes?" I asked.
          "What is there to change into?" she asked back. "You only have man clothes."
          It occurred to me, that Destiny might need more than food and a place to sleep for a night. She would have to rebuild an entire life for herself. Having done this once before, I knew it wouldn't be easy. She'd need a new identity. A job. Possibly a haircut.
          I went to the door to retrieve the sweater from the milk crate. I shook it out. "Here," I said. "This is for girls."
          Dee pulled my tee shirt up and over her head, uncovering her breasts, in two handfuls. I hadn't meant to stare, so I turned my eyes to the carpet, to give her some privacy. She seemed unmoved by revealing so much of her body, as if she'd come from a place where breasts were worn casually.
          "This will do, for now" she said, glancing up at me. "Could you help me get some clothes?"
          When I'd dated Melanie, she paid for almost everything, although she complained about it often. She always wanted me to find a real job, or go back to school. I told her I was too old for that. I still hoped to someday become a famous musician. Mel wrote band reviews for a local music magazine. I'd always wondered if she took my dreams seriously.
          I gazed back at Destiny, into her clear, innocent eyes. They appeared worrisome and tired.
          I pulled my wallet from my pocket and took out my credit card. It was still shiny and unscratched, having been used less than six times in the year I'd had it. I'd used it to buy beer the night before a payday, and to send flowers to Melanie in the hospital after she'd been hit by a car while riding her bike.
          "This was for emergencies only," I said.
          "Is this not an emergency?" she asked.
          "I suppose so," I said.
          I held out the card and Destiny reached for it eagerly. It was all very Pretty Woman, I thought. Dee was a pretty woman, after all, and she wasn't an escort or a prostitute. She was merely a lost, confused girl, trying to get settled in a new world, an entirely new ecosystem. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. I rubbed my hand over her hair as if she were a dog. She looked up at me with her doe eyes, flashing long, black eyelashes. "Thank you, Davey," she said.
          Dee came home that evening wearing big, round sunglasses, and hadn't bothered to remove the tag. She plopped down onto the couch, as if she'd exhausted herself, carrying bags filled with shoes and tops and bras, things I'd be cutting meat to pay off for many months to come. I tried not to think about it, kept reminding myself that without me, she'd be lost or worse. Dead.
          "Do you want to sleep in my room?" I asked. I'd picked up my dirty clothes from the floor to give the bedroom a bit more ambiance, hoping she'd say yes.
          "Sure!" she said.
          I jumped into bed and waited for her, my heart racing in excitement. Finally, she appeared in the doorway, removing her clothes once more. She slithered into the bedsheets like a serpent, nestling her cool body in the crest between my chest and arm. I placed my hands along her back, gently, feeling out the shape of her body in the darkness. I moved my hand up to her shoulders, then slowly down her waist.
          Dee squirmed like a little fish, out of excitement, I thought. I slid my hand down her ass and over her thighs, still soft and new. I imagined her with a long, slimy tail. I leaned down to press my lips against her mouth, but she somehow managed to wedge her tiny palm into the space between our faces. "Please, no," she said. “I'm not ready.”
          I woke up the next morning feeling pretty terrible, laying in a pool of my own sweat. The sunrise stole through the Eastern facing windows of my apartment, heating my bedroom like a microwave. I peeled the sheet from my back and climbed out of bed, taking only a moment to peer down at Destiny. The soft white hairs along her skin seemed to glow in the morning light. She breathed quietly, her chest rising and falling like a rolling wave. She had a peaceful look on her face, like a happy, sleeping child. She didn't look much older than twenty-one or twenty-two.  
          I found myself, then, peering into my own reflection in the mirror. I've never been a very handsome man. My hair was thinning, and my skin was beginning to show signs of aging by darkening in various places. The tiny folds beneath my eyes were growing more unsightly, not far from my unruly eyebrows. Melanie often insisted upon plucking them, and I let her.
          "Anthony," I whispered into the phone, as to not awaken my guest. Clearly, I was desperate.
          "Hey cuz!" he said, sounding annoyingly joyful. "What's going on?"
          "I need to get out of here. Can we go out tonight?"
          "Absolutely."
          Anthony was sure to show you a good time, and normally ended up paying for everyone's drinks. He always managed to attract girls, somehow, despite his bad taste in band tees, and his slight (though significant) adult acne. At the end of the night, there was always some girl riding home on the train sitting in his lap. He'd bounce her on his knee, tell her she was a fox, make her giggle like a child. He'd act as if they were an old married couple, offering to carry her things back to his apartment, where his bed was waiting, freshly made.
          I'd tried to follow Anthony's example, but seemed to always scare the women away. One girl had told me specifically that I was "creepy." Another girl asked why I always looked so sad. I stood around with my hands in my pockets far too much. I didn't say the right things. I came across, somehow, as a rapist looking for his next victim.
          Melanie had approached me, first. I'd gone into the coffee shop where she worked, and after taking my order and making my coffee, she'd brought a note to my table with her number on it. I'd hardly noticed her, when I'd walked in, but I kept the napkin in my pocket for days before finally taking it out to give her a call. I'd forgotten what she looked like by then. We met up at a bar. She wasn't my type at first. She wore a lot of black, and boots that seemed better suited for a man. In the beginning, her hair had been firecracker red. I'd worried that if she slept in my bed, that she'd stain the sheets with it.
          "How about I pick you up at eight?" Anthony said.
          "Sounds good," I said.

          Not long afterward, Dee appeared in the living room, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing my boxers again, and a tee shirt. It fell from her shoulders loosely, hiding the curvature of her hips. Her nymph-like features were swollen with sleep, and her lips appeared to be stuck together. She fell onto the couch beside me and began searching for the remote.
          "Do you have any plans for today?" I asked.
          "No," she said. "Maybe I'll take a shower."
          "That's a good idea," I said.
          We lingered in the quiet for a moment, before Dee switched on the TV. She flipped through the channels at an angry pace, although her face seemed expressionless. The colors of the screen flashed by in a hurry. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't.
          There was a knock at the door around eight o'clock, and just as I expected, Anthony had arrived early. He stepped through the entryway with great confidence, donning a freshly pressed pair of khakis. He seemed to always be wearing a new pair of shoes. He wore an enthusiastic look on his face, as if he'd been waiting all day. Suddenly, his smile disappeared, as his eyes landed on Destiny, who was still sitting on the couch, watching TV.
          "Hi," he said, plainly.
          "Hi," she said.
          The two gazed at each other for a few uncomfortable moments, and I interrupted. "All right, let's go," I said.
          "Wait. You're leaving?" Destiny asked, standing up. The blanket she'd been wrapped in fell to the floor around her ankles.
          "Yeah. We're going out," I said. I reached for my wallet on the counter, then remembered my credit card. "Hey, can I get that card back now?"
          "Oh. Sure," she said. She retrieved a small bag and began fumbling through it, finally returning my card to me. She had a disappointed look on her face, as if she thought I'd be sitting on the couch all night watching The Real World.
          "Well, see you later," I said.
          Anthony and I went out and into the evening. The sun had just finished setting, but already, the city hummed with life.
          "So, whats with the girl?" he asked, after we'd scanned our passes and boarded our train.          
          "She just needs a place to stay for a while," I said.
          "What about Mel? She cool with that?" he asked.
          "Melanie left," I said.

          The adventures began with beer and nachos at some hole in the wall Mexican joint. I'd begun choking on an absurdly spicy pepper, and tears poured from my eyes as if I'd just witnessed something beautiful. I was badly in need of water, but Anthony laughed at me, and pulled me to the first bar in sight to take shots of Whiskey. Anthony patted me on the back after I'd swallowed each one, encouraging me to drink more. He downed his drinks as if they simply disappeared into thin air before ever reaching his system. While I was feeling lightheaded and confused, Anthony seemed completely fine. He pulled me by the arm to the next place, some dimly lit dive being bombarded by Black Flag. As we strolled up to the bar, I noticed the array of freshly spiked mo-hawks and black leather shoes.
          "We don't belong here," I said.
          "Oh, it's fine," Anthony laughed. He ordered us each a Jack and Coke, then took his drink and disappeared into the crowd. He liked to mingle with all sorts of people. Meanwhile, I sat on my stool, gazing idly at the bottles behind the bar. The letters in their names seemed to swirl and collide until I could barely read them.
          "David?" came a voice from behind my shoulder. It was a voice I recognized. I tried to appear cavalier.
          "How did you know it was me?" I asked.
          "Well, I'd recognize that bald spot anywhere," Melanie said. She was wearing very tall shoes and impossibly tight pants. Her hair wasn't jet black anymore, but a vague shade of purple.
          I turned away from her and back to the bar, to finish my drink. She slid into the seat beside me at the bar, a look of concern on her face.
          "What are you doing out, David? You never go out."
          "I'm out with Anthony," I said. "I needed to get out of the apartment."
          "Have you been okay?" she asked. The last time I'd seen her, she'd seemed so angry. But now, her features were soft, and her voice was calm.
          "Not really," I said.
          Mel put her hand on my back and scratched up and down, as she'd always done.
          "I'm pretty drunk," I said.
          "I can tell," she said.
          Anthony had somehow managed to fish the only non-punk girl out of the bar and into the street, where she hung on a street lamp, rocking dizzily. She unhooked her bra and made a loud sigh of relief. Anthony steadied her with his strong hands, told her he'd get her home in the morning. She leaned against him with all of her weight, surrendering herself to his endearing kindness. He told her when they got back to his place, he'd make coffee.
          "Where are you going now?" Melanie asked, following me out of the bar.
          "I'm going home," I said.
          "Don't go home," she said.
          "Okay," I said.

          I don't remember much about what happened after that, other than the cab ride back to Melanie's apartment on the West side. She'd wrapped her arms around my neck and gazed into my eyes like we were in a scene from a movie. She carefully undid the buttons of my shirt and pressed her warm lips against my chest.
          "You didn't take my things to the Salvation Army, did you?"
          "No, of course not," I said. In all honesty, I'd forgotten about it.
          The next morning, I had a hangover from hell, but Melanie took me out to breakfast at a diner near her place. When we'd dated, I'd only come to her neighborhood once. Her roommate had seemed like a bitch, and the train ride was long. I'd decided at that point that our relationship could take place on my side of town. I liked it better over there.
          I finished my egg sandwich and coffee, then we strolled to a park nearby. We laid down in the grass together, and Melanie stroked my beard with her fingers. She said she'd missed me, that she'd slept better with me than she had in days. I moved my face close to hers in order to kiss her, and to my delight, she kissed me back, completely sober, with steady, rolling motions of the tongue. The makeup she wore the night before had begun melting down the sides of her eyes, but Melanie didn't care, and neither did I. I'd enjoyed looking at the soft, gentle face she'd tried so hard to hide.
          Melanie walked me to the train station, and I left her there, her hair a wild, lavender mess. I promised I'd call that evening, that we would meet again and talk everything over. She kissed me goodbye, and I took the steps up to the platform, where I spent the next fifteen minutes waiting on my train, and pondering over what it might look like if somebody were to fall into the tracks and be electrocuted.
          The train dropped me off at my usual stop, and I walked happily back to my apartment building. I climbed the steps to my door, and went in, casually.
          "Where have you been?" an angry voice asked, demanding an answer.
          "I was with my cousin," I said.
          "So, that man was your cousin then?" she asked.
          "Yeah. I slept at his place."
          Destiny stormed around the apartment dressed in a new outfit, her fists in tiny, raging balls. Her hair was clean, and she looked very pretty, and also very mad.
          "Do you realize that it is almost four o'clock? You left me here for almost twenty-four hours! Alone! You didn't even call!"
          I was beginning to drown out her voice at this point, as I poked around the entryway for the milk crate filled with Mel's things.
          "Hey, did you see a crate filled with records around here?"
          "In fact, I did," she said. "I pawned them all away this morning."
          "Why in the hell would you do something like that?" I asked.
          "You left me here with no money for food or cigarettes or anything!" she said. “What was I supposed to do?”
          "Well, what about the crate?" I asked.
          "I pawned that too!" she said.
          I fell down onto the couch and covered my face with my hands.
          "That crate was an antique," I said.
          Destiny stormed around the kitchen, growling like a cat. She mouthed some obscenities beneath her breath, then stomped over to where I sat quietly, thinking only of how I could get the items back.  
          “I know you were with another girl,” she whispered.
          “So, what if I was? You're not my girlfriend,” I said. With that, I got up and exited the apartment, slamming the door behind me. It made a loud, sharp noise, and I was sure I'd heard a frame fall to the floor.
          I found the nearest payphone located in the parking lot of a convenience store. I dialed Melanie's number and waited for an answer. Finally, her warm voice picked up on the other end. "David?"
          "Melanie," I said. "I've got to see you again."
          "Well, David," she began. "I spoke to Monica.”
          “Who's Monica?” I asked.
          “She's the girl who went home with your cousin,” she said.
          "And?"
          "Apparently Anthony had a lot to say about you."
          "What do you mean?" I asked.
          "Just fuck off. Seriously. You are a piece of shit."
          "What did I do?" I asked.
          No response. Instead, Melanie hung up on me, leaving me with nothing to soothe my heart but the empty silence on the other end of the line. I put the receiver down and walked away from the payphone, my head hanging low. I felt a deep dredging within my chest, and knew of no way to cure it. I fell down into a street bench and cradled my face in my hands. I wanted to cry, but I was a man, so I didn't. Instead, I forced my sadness down my throat and pushed my eyelids together so tightly that when I finally opened them, the world flashed with white spots before coming back into focus.
          I figured I better go home and work things out with Destiny. I hadn't meant to hurt the poor girl. The heart wants what it wants. Maybe I could explain it to her, somehow. Tell her it was all a mistake, and that I was ready to make things work. Dee wasn't the most interesting girl in the world, or the smartest, but she was attractive, and I would soon get the chance to deflower her. This made me feel a bit better, and I began the short walk home, rehearsing what I might say to Destiny.
          When I arrived back at my apartment, I found the door hanging open. I searched the rooms for Dee, but found no one. All of her things were gone, as well as a great deal of my own things: a watch given to me by my grandfather, my collection of rare coins. After taking a disheartening inventory of the apartment, I tried to switch on the TV. No avail. I inspected the wiring only to find that it had been cut in half with a pair of kitchen shears.
          I picked up my telephone, amazed to find it in working order.
          "Anthony?"
          "Yeah cuz?"
          "Can I come over?"

          When I arrived at Anthony's, he opened a beer just for me and offered me a cigarette. I relaxed into a rocking chair on his front porch, and he sat beside me, saying nothing. Anthony was quiet for a very long time, breaking the silence only long enough to belch, or to comment on the ever pinkening sunset.
          "I'm sorry, man,” he said, finally. “I didn't know Monica knew your girl. I wouldn't have told her any of those things if I'd known."
          I took a long drink from my beer. "What did you tell her?"
          "Well, that girl at your place... well, I know that girl. I didn't want to tell you, but I know her. I know her real well."
          "What does that mean?" I asked.
          "You know. She's a stripper. She's given me a private dance, more than once. Isn't that where you met her? At the strip club? I didn't want to ruin it for you."
          "I wasn't aware of that," I said.
          "Oh yeah. She's good, too. In fact, I was surprised to see her alive. Word around town is that she took a bad dose of acid. LSD. Jumped into the lake one night and disappeared. Everyone thought she was dead. She's real crazy."
          "Well, that makes sense," I said.
          Anthony popped the top off of another beer and handed it to me. I tipped my head back and began drinking it all at once. The liquid slipped down my throat in a warm fuzz. In the distance, the grapefruit sun fell to the horizon, then began creeping quietly out of sight. The sky became bright orange, then indigo, then finally became swallowed in black. The street lights hummed on, filling the street with a yellow fog.
          "Do you have the boat key?” Anthony asked.  
          “I do.”
          “Then, let's take her out,” he said.

© 2015 Emily Elizabeth Kelm