Fitch
If someone had told me when I was younger what my life would turn out to be, it wouldn’t have been so far-fetched.
From the day my father handed me a beer for getting an A, when I was seven years old, I had an idea that this was not the way anyone else lived, and I had no expectations for normalcy. Ever.
Even as I moved into the cottage house of the Jacksons and acquired a strong-headed little brother, I still doubted that one day, I might actually look back on my life and smile at what it turned out to be.
Then I met Chloe.
She was a dream that wouldn’t end, and one that I never wanted to end, because from the day I’d carried her out of that alley and onto my bed, all I’d been seeing were white picket fences, walks in some ridiculously picturesque park, briefcases, and breakfast on a grand oak table, with three-foot tall people running here and there. It was a fantasy I’d never imagined, and normally scoffed at, but I found myself facing it all head-on. But, jaded as I was, I knew for a fact that it was just that – fantasy. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Most of all, I knew that just when I started to come to terms with my newfound happiness, the rug would be pulled out from under me and I’d be flat on my face, as I had been, fifty percent of my childhood.
I got dressed for our date – if you’d call it that – and was feeling a little nervous. Edgy, if you will. But it wasn’t just the date; there was an apprehensive feeling I had, but I attributed it to Chloe and Chloe only. I couldn’t think of anything else.
I was taking her to the automobile screening of Taxi at the park on the other side of town. I would have loved to take her into Manhattan, to a lavish restaurant and an overpriced artifact showing or something, but as I didn’t have that kind of money, I certainly couldn’t. And somehow, I didn’t think Chloe would mind much. That’s not to say I hadn’t put in all my efforts to planning this date, and I was racked with the nervousness and worry that she might be disappointed.
Nevertheless, I headed out of Roody’s ready to meet her on the corner of Euclid Avenue, trying not to let my worry show. I mean, I’d been on dates before, but I felt like I had so much more to lose with this one.
Before I could turn the corner, I ran into Ricky, who looked wide-eyed and shaky.
I frowned at his demeanor as he continued to stare at me in dismay.
“Rick? What is it?” I asked wary.
Ricky was not one for dramatics, and with the way he looked right then, I knew something was very wrong.
His breathing was rushed and he looked like he was about to cry.
“Did something happen to Lexie?” I asked full on worried now.
His shoulders slumped and he shook his head slowly. “It’s mom. She’s dead.”
*
I froze.
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
My heart stopped, my mind froze, and I remained stationary. I knew that if I even tried to move an inch, I would literally crumble under the weight of the grief that I could feel slowly engulfing me.
I couldn’t think. I wouldn’t allow myself to think. I focused on the tears running down Ricky’s face and only that.
He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. I didn’t want to hear him.
Like the spread of a large blotchy ink stain on off-white fabric, I was aggrieved.
“Fitch. Fitch, did you hear me?”
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
He was full on crying now, a fear in his eyes that I’d only seen once – on the day he shot his father.
I stepped forward and hugged him, because it was all I could think of to do. Here was my little brother, who had just lost his mother. Again. Her Alzheimer’s had been much harder on him than on me, and it had been as bad as death for him. And yet, now she was really dead, there was no possible substitute for what could be happening.
He stepped back minutes after, his hand over his eyes, his shoulders still shaking.
“Rick, listen to me, we’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.” I think I was trying to convince myself more than him, and I wasn’t even sure he could hear me. I could barely hear me. “Go home. I’ll be there in a bit. Go home, okay?”
I stiffened, so he wouldn’t see me starting to shake.
He still wasn’t looking at me, but he walked slowly past me and headed off towards the house.
Only when he left did my mind double back.
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
The only mother I’d ever known was gone. Now, really and truly gone. Surely, it couldn’t be possible.
Where would she go?
I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Lexie: Ricky needs you. And with that, I turned in the direction of Roody’s, walked through the dimly lit entrance and towards the bar.
“Hey man, what are you doing here? Don’t you have a date?” Paul, another bartender said.
I didn’t say anything, because I could barely register what he was saying. I helped myself to a bottle of vodka on the bottom shelf, behind the bar, sat on an empty stool and delved into the nothingness of alcoholism.
“Fitch, Roody will kill you,” Paul warned.
I could hear him, but I couldn’t hear him. What was prominent was the buzzing of Ricky’s words again and again, flying around in my head.
“It’s mom. She’s dead.”
I didn’t leave the bar for the next three days or so; I wasn’t really sure time had moved at all. I drank till I could barely remember my own name, and then drank some more. I only ever stopped when I was passed out, and Paul – I imagined – moved me to the back room, only for me to make my way back to the bar when I came to. Only then would I feel ashamed and completely embarrassed, and then as my mind began to drift back to my reason for resorting to such unoriginal tactics of dealing with grief, I’d grab a new bottle and begin my downward spiral.
Roody seemed to be rather understanding, and I would have been more grateful if there weren’t other things on my mind.
Trey and Kayla always seemed to be around, and I wondered whether they actually ever left. They usually tried to coerce me to leave, but as I had no reason to, I ignored their connivance. At that moment, they were sitting on my right talking in hushed tones, which irritated me greatly.
I didn’t see Ricky at all, and honestly, I didn’t want him to see me so lowly.
I didn’t think about Chloe – well, barely – not only because of the guilt I felt at standing her up, but also because I didn’t want to think about my sudden magnified longing for her.
I was staring at the bottle of Absolut wondering why it was spelled without the ‘e’, when the bell above the door rang. As it constantly rang, confusing me as to whether it was simply a ringing in my ears, I ignored it.
I think it was about four a.m. because the crowd had thinned and all I could see where the black T-shirts with ‘Roody’s’ printed on the back, flitting here and there in my line of sight.
I wasn’t drunk yet, as I’d practically only just woken from a deep slumber, but I was on my second glass, and the night was still young – in my mind, at least.
I took no note of the presence that appeared on my left.
“After everything I taught you, no lime wedge?” a voice said softly, making my heart stop. It was like a sudden calm breeze in sweltering heat: welcoming, relieving and more stilling than anything. I still found it fascinating, the effect she had on me.
I turned; she was looking at me firmly and without any readable emotion in her eyes, her head cocked slightly.
Feeling embarrassed, I turned away and muttered, “What are you doing here, Chloe?” She was the last person I expected to come sympathizing with me, and yet, here she was.
“Trey told me to,” she said plainly, resulting in a groan from him.
I looked to my right, Trey gave me a small shrug, and Kayla just stared blankly, attempting to look completely innocent.
“I’m fine,” I said, turning back to my drink, and starting to down its contents.
“I know,” Chloe replied.
I turned to her, “So, why are you here? Trey didn’t drag you, did he?” I said, masking my embarrassment with animosity.
She didn’t flinch, if anything, her stare became firmer, “Take a walk with me?”
I frowned, “So that’s it? You’re trying to get me to go home?”
She shook her head, “You can come back if you please. I just want somebody to walk me home,” she shrugged.
I turned in my seat, “What?” a little confused.
“You know, drunk guys, dark alleys. It’s a recipe for all things unimaginable,” she said, her eyes boring into mine, as she cryptically relayed that night I’d found her. Only I knew, so I could understand Kayla and Trey’s “Huh?”
I scoffed, “You got here fine. You can get home all right,” I said, turning back to my drink and pouring myself another glass.
I saw her shrug and get off her stool, making her way towards the exit.
I remembered the excitement in his eyes – the guy in the alley – as he undid his fly and stuck his hands down her pants, and I cringed, feeling my head pound violently for a few seconds.
“Please,” she had croaked, her eyes half-closed, as she began to slump.
The guy had laughed loudly and if possible, even more excitedly, “Oh, you’ll be begging for more later, I promise.”
I’d stood frozen in shock as he lifted her into his arms, and watched her helplessly and barely try to wriggle free, when I’d run in involuntarily.
I got up abruptly as the horrors began to fill my mind. I registered the surprise in Kayla and Trey’s faces, and called aloud, “Chloe!” as she pushed open the door, “Wait.”
I walked over to her and shook my head, “I’m sorry.”
Her face contorted in a mix of emotions: sympathy, worry, contrition, and understanding. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back, feeling slightly less dejected. Like a breath of fresh air.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
When the stares of Kayla, Trey, Paul and two other bartenders I was unfamiliar with started to make me feel uneasy, I pulled away and said to her, “Let’s go,” and let her pull me out in the opposite direction of home and Roody’s.
I didn’t question where she was leading me, or wonder; I simply followed compliantly. There wasn’t anywhere I wouldn’t go with her. Ever.
I followed as she led me down the dark, cold streets, with people milling here and there. I concentrated on the feel of her hand in mine to prevent my mind from drifting to the immense pain in my chest.
We got to the deserted skate park, which had been that way since the wintery cold had set in.
“Let’s do nothing,” she said, turning to face me for a second before making her way down to the bottom of the pit.
I frowned confused, until I remembered taking her there after the fancy dress party:
“What are we doing here?” she’d asked that night, amused.
“Nothing,” I’d replied.
“You brought me to do nothing?” she’d asked.
I’d lain on my back, right in the middle, as she did right now, staring up at the dark cloudless sky. I felt an involuntary smile tease at the corner of my lips, and went down to join her, lying back on the cold cement.
“Sorry I couldn’t make our date,” I said, looking at her.
She turned her head, facing me, “Sorry about your mom.”
I shut my eyes and looked away.
“Look, I get it,” she began, “It hurts, emotionally, physically, mentally, ‘cardiac-ally’. Trust me, I know more about losing people than keeping them. But, as far as family goes, you still have a brother, and you have three other people who’d gladly be your shoulder to cry or lean on, whenever you please. You can cry, mourn, be almost suicidal, but remember that one thing – you’re not alone. Not even close.
For Ricky though, it goes even deeper, she was his mom and his mother, and I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t want the only other person who’d known her to be with him right now. And I’d imagine you want the same thing. So, be sad or angry or pained, but at some point you’re going to have to be your selfless self. If only for Ricky.” She spoke slowly, as if to let her words truly sink into my mind.
It was all that needed to be said, it seemed, as she said no more. Honestly, it didn’t take long for me to realize yet again, the gravity of my situation, and the fact that whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to face it all, head-on and lucid. For my sake, for Ricky’s, and for the memory of Alice herself.
I looked at Chloe, who seemed to be studying my expression intently, as if to make sure I got what she was saying.
I don’t know how long I stared at her, unable to stop myself from taking in the curve of her jaw, her shining eyes, the tendrils of hair falling onto her forehead, and thinking about the massive difference in her persona since the first time I’d brought her here.
I nodded slowly, acknowledging her advice.
She smiled, “That’s about all the nothing I can do.”
“Would you have come tonight if Trey hadn’t asked you to?” I asked, my serious expression wiping the smile off her face.
She shook her head and said frankly, “No. I wouldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was scared. Of how you’d be,” she said with a pained expression.
“How?”
“Drunk. Angry. Violent. Bitter. Cold. But then, when you looked at me, and it was the same way you always did . . .” she trailed off, looking away.
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Then we wouldn’t be here, would we?” she said, and after a pause went on, sitting up on her elbow, “Fitch, you always help me out, no matter what. You’re always there. Always. So . . . it might have taken a while, but I’d have come eventually. If only because I missed you.”
I smiled as she shrugged.
I looked up at the bluish-grey of the sky, almost like one of those failed paint mixes in art class. It was vast and endless, and I couldn’t help but wonder at the possibility of a heaven. I found it hard to come to terms with a place where all the souls of those good people who once roamed the earth were currently hanging out. Alice was a good person, great even, but these last five years of her life, she’d barely been a person at all, and for that reason, I wondered whether she might still be a little lost, one of those souls that people say continue to roam the earth long after they die. Would she now remember me, or Ricky? Or would she be even more all knowing, and now know what we’d done to Terry? Would Terry be with her? Would she even remember him?
I let my mind wander to extremes, afraid that if I let it stop, I just might have to come to terms with the fact that when a person was gone, they were just gone; not walking around looking after their loved ones or guiding them, just gone. Not into the nothingness that was the sky, or supposedly, the heavens, but into the ground, back to dust, heat burning down on them, most people’s idea of hell.
“We should go,” Chloe’s words pulled me out of my wandering thoughts. She stood up and held out her hand, which I took as I pulled myself up.
I put a hand around her shoulder hugging her tightly to my side. She put her hand around my waist and said, “One day, you’ll wake up, and this . . . your pain won’t be the first thing on your mind. Second, probably, but not first anymore.”
I kissed her temple softly, holding her tighter and thankful for my own version of guidance in this beautiful – in more ways than one – girl.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I said in my head, again and again, hoping that was more than enough to appease Fate to let me have her for as long as I lived.