Taking Stock

by Scott Bartlett

  “Do you know about Eric?” I say.

  “What about him?”

  “How he’s…abusing his employees.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s sexually abusing his employees. Matt’s one of them. I’m thinking about going to the police.”

  “You think they’d believe you? How would you prove anything, even if it’s true? Holy shit,” he says, looking at a guy wearing a yellow hoodie, who has taken out a blunt and started passing it around. “Where’d you get weed in this town?”

  The guy chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m the last one within a 30-mile radius with any. If you see someone smoking dope tonight, they got it from me.”

  Donovan hits it, and passes it to me. I hit it too. I pass it to whole milk girl.

  “Can you believe Gilbert invited people here?” I say to Donovan.

  “Gilbert doesn’t give a fuck, man.”

  “It’s getting out of control. I’m gonna start kicking people out.”

  “That would piss him off. I wouldn’t piss Gilbert off.”

  “What’s he going to do me? We’re friends. He’ll get over it.”

  Donovan laughs. “Really? You really think Gilbert’s your friend?”

  I hesitate. “Yeah, I do.”

  He puts a hand on my shoulder, still laughing. “Sheldon. Buddy. Gilbert’s the one who locked you in the freezer.”

  Someone passes me the blunt. “What did you just say?”

  “Gilbert locked you in the freezer.”

  “He wasn’t working that night.”

  “I know. See, Brent never used to write down his schedule—he just called every night to find out if he was working the next day. I was here the night before you got trapped, and Gilbert told me to tell Brent he wasn’t scheduled. The next night, Gilbert snuck in, hid till you went into the freezer, and then closed the door behind you.”

  “Why?”

  “He figured you’d assume it was Jack, and he wanted everyone in Grocery to think Produce was out to get them. And he wanted everyone working harder—to pacify Frank long enough to get more dirt on him.”

  “Hey,” says the only guy in town with weed. “Are you gonna smoke that, or are you afraid you’ll piss yourself?”

  “What?” I say.

  “Donovan told us how dope makes you tinkle.”

  I look at Donovan. “Thanks a lot.” I throw the blunt at him, and he bounces it between his hands a couple times before catching it.

  “Hey, man. I consider us friends.”

  I turn around and walk toward the stairs.

  “Don’t bother Gilbert, Sheldon,” Donovan says.

  “Shut up.”

  I knock on the break room door twice. No answer. I try to push it open. Something’s blocking it. I throw my shoulder against the door. It opens an inch before swinging closed. I slam my body against it, and it opens farther.

  I’m backing up for a third time when the door opens a crack, and Gilbert peers out at me.

  “What?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I kick the door. Gilbert steps back. I kick it again and squeeze through. The table was blocking it. Two girls are huddled together in the far corner, attempting to cover themselves, with partial success. I ignore them. Gilbert’s leaning against the counter wearing only underwear.

  “You locked me in the freezer,” I say. “I could have frozen to death.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Donovan told me, you asshole.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds. “Now, why would he go and do that?”

  “I could have died in there.”

  “Someone found you, didn’t they? I would have let you out, if no one else had.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It addresses the point you just made.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “We weren’t really friends, then. We weren’t even hanging out.”

  “I’m done with you, Gilbert. Done.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?”

  I swing my fist at him, but he grabs it, twisting my arm and slamming me face-down onto the table.

  “How far are we going with this, Sheldon? How much do you want me to embarrass you?”

  “Fuck you, Gilbert.”

  He lets me up. I glare at him a moment longer, and I start to leave.

  “Sheldon.”

  I look back.

  “I didn’t lie to you nearly as much as you lie to yourself.”

  I leave the break room, walk down the hall, and descend the staircase. On my way through the warehouse, I pass Donovan, who’s holding a CD in one hand and a marijuana bud in the other.

  “Where are you going?” he says.

  “Home.”

  “But you’re working.”

  I keep walking. Donovan chases after me.

  “Hey,” he says. “I think you should know. That weed we just smoked? It has silica dust in it. Look.” He rubs the bud on the CD, and it leaves a scratch. “That means it’s grit weed. Dealers do that sometimes, to increase the weight, and rip people off. We now have silica particles in our lungs.”

  I walk faster. Donovan does too, holding the pot and the CD, gaping like an idiot. A paintball zooms by and splatters on the floor in front of Aisle Five. Donovan stops.

  “Whatever, Sheldon.” He goes back into the warehouse.

  In the front of the store, some of our guests are lining up shots on the Service counter. I grab one as I walk by, toss it back, and throw the shot glass in the trash.

  “Hey!” someone shouts.

  There’s a case of beer sitting on the floor underneath the window. I grab a bottle and twist off the top, tossing it over my shoulder. I leave Spend Easy.

  I’m halfway across the parking lot when I hear sirens. Two patrol cars are speeding closer, to my left. I walk toward the Cart Corral, trying to be casual. If they’re headed here, hopefully they won’t notice me.

  Both cars pull into the parking lot. Before they can reach me, I place the bottle inside the Corral.

  One of the cruisers stops nearby. An officer gets out, glances at me, and opens the back door.

  Frank emerges. He looks me in the eye.

  “Have you been drinking?” the cop says.

  “No.”

  “I saw him hide a bottle,” Frank says.

  “Are you sure about that, Frank?” I say. “We all have secrets. Remember?”

  “Right,” he says. “I forgot to mention, Officer. I’m gay.”

  The cop gives a slight nod. “Noted.” He walks toward the Cart Corral, and finds the beer bottle. He holds it up. “I saw you put this here, too. Looks like you’re coming with us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I quit weed again.

  I watched a video recently in which a bald Chuck Palahniuk explains how he shaves his head every time he finishes a novel, in order to discard his old self, start fresh, and begin writing the next book. I decide to apply the same idea to my marijuana habit. I buy electric clippers, and stand in front of the mirror. The hair falls from my head in clumps. I remove the uneven stubble that remains with a safety razor.

  I hate the way it looks.

  Good.

  “If I smoke again, I have to shave it again,” I say to my reflection.

  The police could have charged me with being intoxicated in public. But given my lack of a criminal record, they decided against it. Frank had already told them he intended to fire me. “Hopefully termination will be lesson enough,” one police officer said.

  I assume Gilbert lost his job too, and Donovan. I haven’t spoken with them.

  I can’t stop thinking about what Eric is doing to his employees. Someone has to say something. But Eric threatened to go after their families—would he really do that?

  And who’s going to believe the guy who just got fired for throwing a party in a grocery store?

 
; I decide to tell Theresa. She’ll know what to do.

  She knocks on my door the morning after I shave my head. She doesn’t say anything about my lack of hair.

  “I have something I need to talk to you about,” I say.

  She looks down. “I can’t do this anymore, Sheldon.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  She’s breaking up with me.

  “But—I quit smoking pot,” I say, without much hope.

  “It’s not about that. When I first saw you again, at Spend Easy, you seemed so collected. You seemed like you were better. You made me happy.” She sighs. “You’re a mess, now, Sheldon. I’m afraid that if I stay with you, I may not stay better. It breaks my heart, because I care about you a lot. But I’ve worked too hard to risk my health like this.”

  I wipe my eyes. “I care about you too, Theresa. So much.” I try to keep my voice from cracking. I fail.

  She’s crying, now, too. “Can you try to understand, Sheldon? Can you at least try?”

  “I understand,” I whisper.

  She takes my hand, and for a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me. But she lets go, and then she leaves.

  I forgot to tell her about Eric.

  The phone rings. I walk to the kitchen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, this is Brad. I’m calling this morning to tell you that you’re awesome.”

  I hang up. Then I pick up the phone again, and dial Gilbert’s number.

  *

  Donovan’s having a party tonight, and Gilbert says he’ll pick me up, and bring a joint for us to smoke on the way. I pace around my apartment all day. Nothing interests me—not even the internet. And the apartment is so silent. It was never this quiet, with Marcus Brutus around. I could turn on some music, but I don’t.

  When the Hummer pulls into the driveway, I already have my sneakers on. “Nice haircut,” Gilbert says when I get in.

  “Thanks.”

  “The town’s still dry. I only have a couple joints. I don’t wanna waste them on anyone at the party. All right?”

  “All right.”

  “By the way—just so you don’t try to tell me this weed’s laced, I got it from a guy who buys from Sam. If you start tripping out, that’s all you.”

  He lights a joint and pulls out of the driveway.

  “So,” I say. “Are you looking for another job?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m working with a guy now to end this dry spell. Who knows—maybe after this, I’ll be the town’s main dealer.” He chuckles. “I can’t go back to a normal job, where I actually have to do work. Not after Spend Easy.”

  “Nice haircut,” Donovan says when we walk in.

  The party isn’t really a party. It’s only Donovan, Casey, Lesley-Jo, and a girl I don’t know, sitting around and drinking.

  “Hey, Sheldon,” the girl says.

  “Hey,” I say. “What’s your name?”

  “We, uh, went to high school together.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I have a terrible memory.”

  “It’s Rita.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  She raises her eyebrows, and says nothing.

  Gilbert brought a bottle of liquor with him, which he’s pouring down his throat at a rapid pace. He keeps offering me shots, but after the first I don’t take any more. Everyone else is drinking beer. I brought a half-case, but I haven’t opened it yet. I don’t feel like drinking.

  They’re talking about hockey when I interrupt. “How much silica dust entered my lungs at the Spend Easy party last week, do you think?”

  Everyone looks at me.

  “There was silica in that weed?” the girl from my high school says.

  What’s her name, again?

  “Were you there?” I say.

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard it’ll kill you, after a while,” Donovan says. “After you smoke grit weed, it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Oh my God,” I say. “Holy shit.” My chest feels tight. I take a deep breath. I can feel my heart beating.

  Gilbert rolls his eyes. “You’d have to smoke pounds of it. You’re not going to die from smoking it once. Jesus.”

  “That’s not what I read,” Donovan says.

  “On the internet?”

  Donovan doesn’t answer, and Gilbert laughs.

  The conversation returns to hockey. Donovan isn’t saying much, though, and I notice him glance at me a couple times. I think he suspects I’m high.

  Actually, he definitely knows. Gilbert’s better at hiding it than me, but it’s easy to tell when I’m baked. Donovan will probably ask me soon. I can’t lie for shit. He’ll be pissed off when he realizes we held out on him.

  The girl who went to my high school looks at me. “Are you gonna drink any of those?” She glances at my beer.

  “Sorry, what’s your name again?” I say.

  “You forgot it already?”

  “I’m bad with names. I’m really sorry.”

  “Rita. My name’s Rita.”

  “Okay. Sorry. I’m really stoned.”

  For a moment, the conversation goes silent.

  “You’re stoned?” Casey says.

  “How are you stoned?” Lesley-Jo says.

  “Just kidding!” I try to laugh. “Sorry. That was a dumb joke.”

  Donovan stands up and bends closer. “You are, aren’t you? I can smell it. I thought I smelled it earlier, but I assumed I was going nuts. Where’d you get dope?”

  “I—” I can’t think of a single thing to say. I make sure not to look at Gilbert. Hopefully they won’t suspect him.

  “I had some,” Gilbert says. “We smoked it on the way over here so we didn’t have to share with you yahoos.”

  “Jerk,” Donovan says. He sits down again. And their conversation resumes.

  I text Gilbert to ask if I can speak with him in private.

  Across the room, Gilbert’s phone buzzes, and he picks it up. “Sure, Sheldon,” he says in a robotic monotone. “We can speak in private.”

  He’s making fun of me.

  We put on our shoes and go outside.

  “Hey, man, sorry for giving you away, in there,” I say. “I’m so baked, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Besides. They don’t know I have more.” He takes the other joint out of his pocket and wiggles it between his fingers.

  We get in his Hummer and light it. He turns on some music and we smoke it in silence. After a couple passes, Gilbert’s phone vibrates.

  “That’s Rita,” he says. “She’s asking if we’re smoking more weed.” He starts tapping on the screen.

  “Are you telling her?”

  “Hell no.”

  The front door opens, and Donovan sticks his head out. He spots us, and comes outside. He’s not wearing any shoes. Rita and Casey emerge behind him.

  “Gilbert!” I say. “Look!”

  He glances up, and then fishes his keys out of his pocket. He starts the engine.

  Donovan begins running toward us. Gilbert slams the gear shift into reverse, and pulls out of the driveway. He speeds away, beeping his horn at them. We’re both laughing.

  He passes me the joint.

  “Wait,” I say. “You’re drunk.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You should pull over, though. You—”

  “Shut up, Sheldon.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  “Right.”

  “I trust you, you know.”

  “Okay. Give me the joint.”

  I pass it. “I shouldn’t question you, all the time. You’ve done a lot for me. I know that.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  He glances at me. “Yeah?”

  “Whoa, watch out for that guy, Gilbert. You’re going off the—”

  “Where?”

  “Right there!”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

&n
bsp; I’m walking along Foresail Road. It’s still dark.

  Donovan’s party is over, I guess.

  I left with Gilbert. Right? We smoked the joint, and we drove—

  Where?

  Maybe I should call him.

  My phone isn’t in my pocket.

  I don’t have my phone. Did I leave it at Donovan’s?

  I guess I’ll have to walk home.

  My apartment is in the opposite direction. Where am I going? Is there somewhere I need to be?

  It must be pretty late.

  It’s cold.

  And I’m scared.

  I come to a 24-hour gas station. I go in, and ask the attendant what time it is. He tells me it’s 3:37 AM.

  I return to the road and continue walking.

  I touch my head. Tiny little bristles. I need to shave it again, don’t I? I smoked pot again.

  I think I have a drug problem. Maybe a drinking problem. I think I need some help.

  I keep walking.

  By the time I arrive at her grave, it’s no longer dark.

  I lie down. Six feet above Mom.

  I fall asleep.

  *

  In my nightmare, it turns out Tommy was right, after all. He was just off by a few months.

  *

  When I wake up, I’m lying on top of those ferns somebody planted. I’d forgotten about them.

  How deep do fern roots go? Could they reach down one day, and get tangled in her bones?

  I start digging, with my fingers.

  I still feel high. There was definitely something extra in that weed.

  This plant is not ferns.

  This plant is a carrot.

  It only takes me a few seconds to dig it up. The earth is loose.

  It’s a small carrot. It’s July, so it hasn’t had long to grow.

  I’m still high, and I’m tripping out.

  I take a bite of the carrot. I chew. I take another bite.

  That helps.

  *

  On the way home, I stop into the same gas station and ask to use their phone. I try to call Gilbert, but there’s no answer.

  Where is he? What happened last night?

  I’m still high. Something very strange is going on. I have a lot of questions.

  But I know, now, where to find the answers.

  At my apartment, I go straight to the closet where I keep everything Mom owned. I’ve barely looked in there since I moved into this place. It was too painful to go through her stuff, deciding what to toss and what to keep. I just shoved it all in here, and tried not to think about it.