Alive

Chapter 3

Oliver

(Saturday, May 4)

Kyle pooped in the corner.

It's my fault, not getting up to take him out. I should at least open the door for him or something. He's smart and friendly, I'm sure no one would mind it. But the fact is, even getting to the door seems about as tempting as getting hit by a train. Actually, getting hit by a train sounds good right now. I wonder how it would feel. Which part would touch you first? I don't really know much about trains hitting people, now that I think about it. Do the wheels slice you up? Does the impact send you flying? I should ask Arlo. He knows a shit-ton of weird facts like this. Or maybe I should look up a video.

But even reaching for my phone is impossible. It's stupid. I know it's on the ground, and I'd just have to roll off the couch to get it. But nothing works. I'm only able to lie here, stare at the wall, and imagine trains hitting me a thousand times over. There's a lump in my stomach. Something that translates to a shitload of "I should"s. I should be up. I should be dressed. I should be leaving. It should be easy, right? I just have to sit up, stand, shower... I stop there. No way. You couldn't pay me enough to do that. Not today.

My phone rings. I listen to the song, willing the wild beat to get me up. It helps a little. Enough that I'm able to flip to my stomach, swinging my arm down to retrieve it. Damn it, Arlo. I curse, like I had no idea it was going to be him. But honestly, I already knew. I press the phone to my ear. It's heavier than usual today, and Elle is right. I catch a whiff between the cracks in the couch. My apartment stinks.

"Olly, where are you?" Arlo's voice crackles across the line. I need to upgrade my phone service. I'm on the cheapest plan of the cheapest company. This is what I get, trying to make it on my own. "It's two thirty, man. Hallman's furious."

It's a dirty trick, sicking Arlo on me. Director Hallman is a manipulative bastard.

"I know the show back and forth," I say, letting the phone rest against my face as I drop my hand. "I'll be there later."

"I'm coming over," Arlo says. He hangs up first, even though he knows I like being the one to do that. It's kind of my thing. What a dick. A dick who's on his way to my house.

Arlo's worried. He should be, I guess. I am lying on an empty pizza box from who knows how long ago. He's gonna kick my ass when he gets here. I sigh, dropping my phone on the ground. Nah, Arlo's a gentleman and a good friend. Which means I won't get beat up. Just get to taste his fingers as he shoves a pill down my throat.

Gross. I should take one before he gets here. But getting one requires moving, and I've already established I'd rather die. I need to start locking my door. Maybe I can get Kyle to hide me.

"Kyle," I yell, patting the ground with a couple fingers. "Save me."

He's probably the only thing that will make me smile today. His wet nose nudges against my hand in less than ten seconds. I love that about him. Always so attentive. I jab a finger toward my back. "Up."

I already feel like a thousand pounds. May as well add two hundred to the load. I almost regret the command as Kyle jumps up and I remember. I'm not a thousand pounds. I'm a hundred and sixty. Fuck it, I'm feeling shitty enough, I'll just be honest with myself for once. A hundred and fifty-seven. I need to get back in the gym with Arlo. Point being, Kyle is fucking heavy, and Arlo is taking forever to get here.

I'm almost dead by the time the doorknob turns. Kyle's drool is soaking into my scalp. A big puddle of it. I need to get an AC unit in here or something, poor guy. He's happy as can be, though, listening to my raspy breaths beneath him. Maybe the fact I'm dying secretly pleases him a bit. He's been bitter since last night. Whatever. I still owe him a lot for this favor.