When people ask what I like to be called I really don’t know
what to say.
I’m not really a fan of “Andersen”, but it’s my Dad’s name
and I really would rather not offend him. I hate “Andy”. Hate, hate, hate “Andy”. It reminds me of when I
tripped and fell in the second grade, when the teacher yelled my name so loud across
the playground everyone was already looking. I hit the ground, smacked my head,
my glasses were falling off.
I didn’t even wear glasses. I don’t know why I remember it
like that. I just… hate the name so much it makes me see myself different. So, I tried going by my last name, Richards. I’m
sure you can guess where that lead.
“Dick!” Everybody loves shouting that one.
“Dick!” Like they’re so unbelievably clever.
“Hey, Dick!” It’s this awful joke that everyone else seemingly hears for
the first, accept me. I hear it every time. Every time it makes some smile or
they laugh, I feel so alone. I'm a hostage to that joke, like Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day,
like watching reruns with canned laughter and knowing the laugh is
coming even though the joke isn't funny but there's nothing you can do
to stop it.
“Dick” was how they addressed me Sunday night. My friends.
My stupid friends whom I realized long ago could not be bothered. My “friends”.
I knew I couldn’t trust them to know how much I don’t like
being called “Dick” without doing it all the more. Yet somehow I let them
surprise me.
It’s been… three days. Everyday seems so long now. They’re
so cold. But it no longer hurts to breathe and the swelling has gone down in my
face. I was encouraged to talk about what happened. She told me I should say
everything but… I’m doing this by phone, so… a little bit at a time.
So, ever since my apartment got torched and my face has been
on the news, I’ve stopped socializing. I just feel safer with no one really
knowing where I am. Trevor text me and invited me out, I said “no”. He
persisted, I maintained but I gave up after a while. Not because of any point
he made, I just…
Well, let’s not get into that.
The point is, I decided to meet him at the bar.
"Friends"
"Dick!" Trevor shouted when he saw me. There’s
just something about the way people say that name that makes me want to punch
them in the face. But he had a beer waiting for me so why be too hard on the
guy? Some of our friends from Mesa joined us. I thought it was supposed to be just Trevor and me and it
made me uncomfortable when suddenly there were five other people standing around
the table. But how anti-social can you be, you know?
"How've you been,
man?" he asked, shouting over the others. Normally his breath smells like
Natty Light, that cheap beer he used to drink when we were minors and somehow
he never got past it. Not that night. That night it was almost clean.
I’m learning to notice things like that.
When I’m in a crowd, I periodically have to survey the
people around. You want to look for people with their heads slightly away, just
enough so they can watch you in the corner of their eye. People think this is
very sneaky. But I didn’t notice anyone doing it so I decided to enjoy my beer.
There was a girl on the other side of the bar. Between the
rushing bartenders with their low-cut shirts and boobs blessedly bouncing out,
and around the idiotic bar-back who had no idea he what he was blocking me
from, stood a girl with round, locked eyes. She was somewhere short of six
foot, with short hair cut in a fury. It seemed black until the bar-back moved
and light sent a purple shimmer down the strands.
Her hands rested on either side of her drink, the glass dry
and the condensation circling the bottom. It had been untouched for some time.
Her left pinky was bandaged and noticeably shorter than the right one.
Seeing as how those big eyes were still locked on me, I
decided the best thing to do was smile at her. I tried to be charming but I
think it must have been sort of a clumsy smirk that came across my face. She
wiped her eye and looked away.
"So, Dick, what have you been up to? What are you doing
these days?" Evan shouted from behind me as I pulled my beer up to my
mouth.
If a girl asks me what I do, I say I'm in
"fashion". If a guy asks me, I say "I work at a clothing
store". Neither are true anymore after what happened with Rob. But Evan knew
that.
It was weird to me Evan was even there. It'd been a few
months since I'd seen Oscar and he in the same room. They'd be gym-buddies, or
at least we all thought. Turns out he and Oscar spent as much time showering
off as they did sweating it up. Oscar didn't want to have to keep it a secret,
got drunk and told everyone. Evan didn't bother to show anywhere Oscar was
after that. Yet here was Oscar standing like a brick-wall on my left, his beer
nearly full in his hand, smiling at me.
And Evan, blocking me in on the right.
"I just mean, I heard about what happened to your
place, man. It sounds rough. Where are you living these days?" Evan asked,
his elbow on the table. He waited patiently as I scanned the bar again for
side-lookers. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said, taking another drink. "I've
been bouncing around a lot actually. Staying a few nights here, a few there.
Nothing consistent."
"You're not staying with your folks?" he asked,
sipping at his beer.
"No..." I said flatly. Jackie and Karen were sitting
across. They're fun, a bit high-energy for me at times. Accept this time. They
didn't run to hug me like they did to everyone, say "hello" like a
couple of coked-up cheerleaders. "What classes are you taking this
semester?" I asked.
I wanted to keep the topic off me as much as possible.
Sacrifice is easy when someone else makes it
Sorry, I have to rest my thumbs. Typing on a tiny screen
like this is nuts. I don’t know why people complain about how big phones are
getting. How small do they need to be? If I wasn’t just sitting in the backseat
of my car, anyway, I probably wouldn’t bother with the effort.
Anyway, before long they were asking me why I don’t turn
myself in.
While the group began guilt-tripping me, Trevor had brought
me another beer. “Don’t worry, bro! I got ya’ on this.” My beer wasn’t empty
yet but he put it in his hand and began drinking his own a bit quickly.
“Have you even given it any thought?” Evan interrupted.
"Dick, you have an opportunity to help people... to
save lives..." Jackie said.
"You have to think about others," Oscar added.
"Besides," Trevor began from the other side of his
glass, "wouldn't you rather do it on your own terms than have some douche-bag
turn you in?"
"It's easy to look at someone else and ask them why
they haven't done their part for the community, isn't it?" I asked.
Karen sipped her rum and coke, "People are dying, Dick."
"People aren't dying," I reassured her.
"They have treatments."
"Those treatments are worse than chemo," Oscar said.
"They let people keep their minds... but their bodies rot away from
them."
The only place I had to hide was behind my beer. I didn't
care who was paying for them at that point. Oscar was right, I guess. The
Ratfanger treatments aren’t much better than the disease. "So, what? You want me to turn myself in?"
Their look was more than a bit familiar to me. That fixated
glare, not the lost consideration the purple-haired girl had shown me. It was
the one I saw that last night day of work, the one Rob had given me.
Trevor was just staring into his glass. "Actually..." Jackie said looking into her drink
as it began to sink beneath the ice, "We’re going to have a lot of debts
we can't pay off in a few years. Since we’re friends―”
"The reward for bringing you in is $70,000,
man..." Oscar said. All of a sudden I began to ask myself what could have
Evan and Oscar back in the same room.
A cocktail waitress with a tray filled with empty glasses
grabbed Jackie's drink and placed a new one in her hand, "Here's another
coke for ya'."
Another coke. Not
a rum and coke.
And then it got weird
Trevor's glass slipped from his hand and smashed on the
ground. Trevor did likewise.
“Holy shit, how much did he put in that drink?” Jackie shouted.
We all stared at Trevor a moment. “I think he drank my beer
by mistake,” I said.
As soon as I felt them start to look back up at me I bolted.
Oscar body-slammed me into a doorway. It hurt but I spun. I recovered and broke
through a crowd of people. I created enough chaos, I heard him stumbling on the
people I knocked over.
It bought me a moment. It was a moment I lost jumping onto a
table to try to jump over the crowd. My weight was too close to one end, the
other flew up and hit me, sending me into a wooden banister and
then the tile floor.
Believe it or not, this was not my first escape like this. I
am, actually, getting better.
My memory is a bit spotty at that point. I don’t know if it
was because of the fall, because the drinks were starting to catch up to my
empty stomach or Trevor had put something in both drinks. I just remember
what was happening like a radio beginning to lose its reception.
I was pushing myself up when Karen shouted from the table “EAT
A DICK!”
A year ago, people might have thought that was funny. I read
it’s one of the highest trending tags now. Everyone knew what it meant.
Everyone looked right at me.
From that point I have no idea who was grabbing me, who was
pulling at my shirt. Who had their fucking hand down my pocket like they were looking for a good grip. I struggled to get
out of the bar. How I succeeded, I don’t
know. I do remember that moment thinking I had done it, I escaped.
The next thing I remember is Evan pinning me in the backseat
of a car, hitting me in the face.
I don’t remember how I got out.
After that I was running against traffic in the street.
Then in a donut store, dialing the phone while the girl was
in the back and stealing donuts.
I laid in the alleyway, eating the donuts in an oil puddle
beneath a truck while people looked for me. I don’t think I knew any of those
people.
I
can’t really write much more right now. I’m going to rest
my thumbs. Thank you if you're actually still reading. I don't know if
this is as cathartic as I as was promised it would be but... And I’m
tired of my phone’s auto correct putting “tgat” instead of “that”.
Where did “tgat” even come from?
Why won’t my phone unlearn it?
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