Alex Kicks The Bucket

by Jason Purdy

  For all the things that told her she was stupid, and useless, and there was nothing for it but to take hand outs or waste away to nothing in bed, home alone in a seven bedroom house where she could scream until her throat bled and nobody would ever hear it.

  Sometimes, when she was home alone, her own footsteps wood echo back to her on the hardwood floor. She wished it was a home invader, who would come in and beat her to death with a cricket bat, and leave her broken body lying in a pool of her own blood.

  They’d cry, her mum and dad. They would. They’d feel bad for calling her stupid, feel bad for making her feel less than she was, less than nothing.

  They’d feel bad for the way they looked at her when she came home drunk on another weeknight or for the look she got when she asked for bus money to go sign on. They’d sit at the front of the church and they’d cry their eyes out.

  Her sister would too. She’d beat herself up over the fact that she hadn’t done more when all she had to do was nothing. All she had to do was take Kate’s hand and tell her she was a fuck-up and that was fine, because she was her sister and she loved her. That’s all it would take.

  She’d attempted before, but this was the real deal, and she would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for that meddling kid and his epoch hopping shape shifting groupie.

  She hated herself now, no one else. Hating yourself was always the first step to loving yourself. There are no shadows without light. To see the end of the tunnel must mean that it exists.

  She tried to hold these thoughts close to her heart. To take what little comfort she had found in the new friends she had made. She washed her face in the bathroom mirror and unlocked the door.

  13:58:09

  Kate and Paul and put together a party, in the absolute loosest sense of the word. There was terrible music playing through shitty laptop speakers. Paul had searched for a party playlist on Spotify and put on the first thing that popped up. It was terrible, terrifically terrible.

  The party crowd was not a crowd at all. It consisted of Alex’s mum and dad, Hamish from The Pizza Place, Paul’s favourite drug dealer, known only as Cleveland Steve, and a spotty pizza guy who had been promised a big tip to hang around for a while.

  It was a real sausage fest. Paul and Kate stood awkwardly to the side, in the corner by the TV. Paul had a warm beer in his hand again, and Kate was nursing yet another glass of wine. She had drunk so much today already, and it had scarcely gone to her head at all.

  Trying to kill yourself probably does that to a person.

  “Well,” Kate said, “this is shit.”

  “Sorry that I couldn’t get a Geordie Shore reject to pose for photos or something,” Paul said, grinning.

  Kate held her glass of wine to her chest, looking nervously around the room.

  “Everyone is staring at me,” she said.

  “You’re the only talent here,” Paul said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  Kate sighed, and shoved him away.

  “Talent,” she said. “Wow, how do you do with the women?”

  “Just swimmingly,” Paul said. “But thank you for your concern.”

  Kate laughed derisively.

  “You mean all this,” she said, gesturing at Paul from head to toe. “All this works for the ladies?”

  “What?” Paul said. “The muscles, the good looks, the expensive clothes, the money, the wit, my incredibly humble nature? No, I’m a complete failure in the dating game.”

  “Definitely doing miles better than me,” Kate said.

  “Balls,” Paul said. “A gorgeous girl like you is bound to have half the city pining after her. Plus, you’ve got that whole mysterious thing going for you too.”

  Kate was flattered, as much as she hated to admit it. She wasn’t sure if she had ever been called gorgeous before. She seemed to only ever meet guys who were too afraid to talk to her, or that referred to her as fit as, or a top bird.

  The moment is ruined by Alex appearing naked on top of the coffee table. Stephen is with him for a moment, and then he vanishes. Alex tumbled onto the floor, head over heels, showing the room every inch of his body.

  Stephen reappeared a moment later with an old man. He tumbled off the table as well, but Alex caught him under the arm, easing him down off the table.

  He wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulder, pulling him in and laughing.

  “We could have used a guy like you in the trenches,” the old man said. “You’ve got balls, I can see that. But the Germans would have eaten you alive. The krauts would love a smooth arse like that.”

  He spanked Alex, who let out an involuntary yelp.

  “You can’t say stuff like that anymore, Edgar,” Stephen said. “It’s 2017.”

  “If you know my name,” Edgar said, “then you’d better tell me yours.”

  He pushed himself away from Alex, offering his hand to Stephen.

  “Stephen,” he said, shaking the old man’s hand.

  Stephen had been raised right, to respect his elders, especially war veterans.

  Alex looked around the room slowly, still in a daze. He caught the eyes of Paul and Kate, who were staring at him, their mouths hanging open. He saw his old boss, Paul’s dealer, the pizza guy, and his parents.

  He looked slowly down at his dangling privates, and remembered that he was naked.

  “Fuck!” he screamed, and sprinted into his bedroom, testicles flapping against his legs as he went.

  “I haven’t looked that good naked since I was banging French mademoiselles back when we liberated Paris,” Edgar said, nudging Stephen. “They may be cheese eating surrender monkeys, but they know how to build their women.”

  Edgar butchers the pronunciation of mademoiselle in a way that beggars belief.

  “Do I need to put a muzzle on you?” Stephen asked. “You’re not being very politically correct tonight.”

  “You backpack through Europe,” Edgar said. “I bombed the shit out of it. I’m ninety five years old, the way I see it, I can see whatever the fuck I want.”

  Stephen laughed.

  “I won’t argue with that,” he said. “I’m going to get more booze.”

  He reappeared in a flash with boxes of beer under each arm, and a bottle of vodka on top of each.

  The music was still playing, but the rest of the party seemed completely mesmerised by the show in front of them.

  Edgar plucked one of the bottles from under Stephen’s arm.

  “I don’t usually drink this soviet shit,” he said. “But I almost burned to death tonight, so a little break from tradition will do no harm.”

  “Very forward thinking, Edgar,” Stephen said. “Let’s get wasted.”

  He threw a bottle of vodka to Paul, who had to flail to catch it, almost dropping it.

  “Everyone, this is Edgar,” Stephen said, nodding to the old guy, who did a quick, mock bow. “Alex saved him from burning alive tonight. He fought in World War Two, so he can say whatever the hell he wants.”

  Stephen gestured around the room.

  “Edgar, this is everyone.”

  “A pleasure,” Edgar replied, cracking open the bottle of vodka. He swigged straight from it.

  “I like this guy,” Paul said, and he did the same with his bottle.

  “What happened to Alex?” Kate asked. She glanced over at his parents, who were shyly huddled in the corner, looking very lost.

  “Oh, shit,” Stephen said. “I’ll BRB.”

  He actually said bee arr bee.

  13:27:32

  Alex stood in front of his mirror. He had got as far as putting a pair of jeans on, but then he had stopped when he realised he could see the wall behind him through his stomach. He seemed to have gone slightly see through.

  He punched himself in the stomach as hard as he could, and his fist passed right through, almost getting stuck inside his own stomach.

  “A whole new meaning to fisting,” Stephen said, leaning against the door.

&
nbsp; “Fuck,” Alex said. “Don’t do that. Use the door.”

  “Doors are for suckers,” Stephen said. “What are you doing?”

  “Psyching myself up,” Alex said, grabbing a T-shirt from a pile on the floor. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. Why the fuck are my parents here?”

  Stephen shrugged.

  “It’s that time of day,” he said, “when I try to help wrap everything into a neat little package. To get you a little bit of catharsis.”

  “I don’t need catharsis,” Alex said. “I need beer, and I can’t get drunk.”

  “Look, Alex,” Stephen said, throwing himself onto Alex’s filthy bed. “I’m here to make your last day a real hoot. To tell you the rules, to help guide you to make the right choices, to tie everything up as much as possible before you move on. Think of me as a travel guide. I want to help you have the best trip you can.”

  “So is this your job?” Alex said.

  “I’ve said before,” Stephen said. “It’s not quite that simple. It’s like community service. Sometimes we’re forced to do it, sometimes we volunteer.”

  “You volunteer?” Alex said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

  Stephen shrugged.

  “I’m a nice guy,” he said. “I read your file; I figured the tough love approach would work. I guess I was right.”

  “My file?” Alex asked.

  “A cheat-sheet on the complicated creature that is Alex Patterson,” Stephen said. “We get one for every person we work with. Makes things a little easier, helps us avoid unpleasant surprises.”

  Alex shook his head, slowly.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Alex said.

  “You’re dying,” Stephen said. “And I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

  Alex sat down heavily on the bed beside him.

  “I’ve been a bit of an arsehole,” he said.

  “You have been for years,” Stephen said. “I don’t hold it against you; I remember what it’s like. Life was very different when I was still living it, but the feelings are mostly the same.”

  Alex turned to him, his mind racing with a thousand questions.

  “I’m a guy, just like you Alex,” Stephen said. “Except I have some weird powers and a killer dress sense. I have an apartment. I have a flatscreen TV. I prefer Playstation over Xbox…”

  “Scum,” Alex said.

  “I have good days,” Stephen said. “I have bad days. I have awkward dates, one night stands. My fridge has nothing but cheese singles and beer in it. I get two for one tickets with some insurance company, I take my mate Lucifer on Wednesdays.”

  “Lucifer?” Alex said, jumping off the bed.

  “It’s not who you think,” Stephen said. “His parents were hippies. Different guy.”

  “So you used to be alive?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah,” Stephen said, “up until I died. Now I’m not, I’m up to other stuff.”

  “Does that mean I’d be able to do what you’re doing right now?” Alex asked.

  “If you’re well behaved enough, I don’t see why not,” Stephen said.

  “What’s it like?” Alex asked. “Being dead? What’s on the other side?”

  Stephen sighed, getting to his feet.

  “I’ve said too much already,” he said. “Look, you’ll find out when your day is over. I’ll be right there with you, I’m your travel guide. Don’t worry about all that just now. Just worry about getting things right with your parents.”

  “I’m scared of them,” Alex said. “What will they say? They must hate me.”

  “They’re your parents,” Stephen said. “They’ll love you until the day they die, no matter what you do.”

  Alex felt like he might cry. He grabbed Stephen roughly around the waist, trying to hug him. His arms passed right through, and he almost tumbled to the floor.

  “Sorry,” Stephen said, laughing. “I just couldn’t resist.”

  “You prick” Alex said. “You ruined the moment.”

  12:59:34

  People often thought of the enemy of being an outside force. An escaped criminal, a co-worker who tracks your bathroom breaks and tattles on you. The kid from school that punched you and made you eat gravel.

  The enemy is out there. The enemy is everywhere. The truth was that the real enemy was inside a person all along. The real enemy surfaced when you were alone, and vulnerable. Tossing and turning late at night, on the late train home, alone.

  Drunk in your living room at three in the afternoon on a Saturday because you had nothing better to do.

  Those are the times when you fight the true enemy. The real enemy was the person you saw in the mirror every morning.

  Stephen reckoned that being alone for any extended amount of time was just about the worst thing a human being could possibly do to themselves. It was the reason that he owned three cats.

  This was a slow realisation that Alex came to, as he spoke to his estranged parents, and realised how stupid he had been. How all the fear and misery that he ever held in his heart had been entirely fabricated by his head.

  12:30:15

  “Hi mum,” Alex said, “hi dad.”

  That was his opener, for more than a decade of silence. The years had been kind to Denise and Roy. His mum was wrinklier than he remembered, but she was still blonde and still slender, with the same green eyes that he had.

  His dad was fully grey now, and had a mean bald spot going on, but he had compensated with a magnificent salt and pepper beard. He still dressed like a lumberjack, and his beer belly had grown. It strained against the buttons of his checkered shirt.

  Eleven years, it had been. His mum reminded him of that fact, again.

  “Eleven years, Alex,” she said.

  “How could you do that to us?” his dad said.

  The two of them were side by side on the sofa, they were holding hands. Alex was in the chair across from the table. He felt like he was a thousand miles away from them. Like he was in the ocean, clinging to a chunk of debris, while they watched him from the deck.

  He couldn’t look at them. He stared at his feet instead.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore,” Alex said. “I just fuck up. I always fuck up. From day one… then after what happened to Chris…”

  He trailed off. He had his hands clasped in front of him. They were so tight that his knuckles would have been turning white if he wasn’t already pale all over.

  He somehow felt as though he wasn’t entirely there. Like part of him was just watching this all happen. He remembered the hole in his stomach, with a sinking feeling of dread.

  “That doesn’t matter Alex,” his mum said. “We already lost one son. How do you think it felt to lose another?”

  “We miss Chris every day,” his dad said. “But if it wasn’t for Paul, we’d have thought you were gone too.”

  Paul was over by the window, staring out at the night sky. He looked very sheepish, and was suddenly very preoccupied with drinking his beer.

  “Paul?” Alex said. “What…?”

  “Paul’s been telling us about everything,” his mum said. “About your new job, about your girlfriend. Everything. We’re so proud of you Alex, we just wished we could have shared it with you.”

  “Paul said we should come over for dinner a few times,” his dad said. “But we didn’t want to… I don’t know. I didn’t think you would want to see us. Not after you left.”

  “Whatever you were working through,” his mum said. “We wanted you to work through it yourself.”

  Alex didn’t know how to feel. He’d been living with Paul for nearly seven years now, and he’d told him long ago about his family situation. The first lonely Christmas after he’d replied to the ad for someone looking for a new roommate.

  Paul came back early from visiting his family and they sat up late, drinking whiskey and watching bad Christmas movies.

  The lies he had told hurt. He’d done it to protect Alex’s parents, bu
t it felt bad to have someone lie about you to make your parents proud of you. It also felt good to have someone care about you enough to do that.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve been a fucking idiot.”

  He went to them, and they cried together, holding each other tightly.

  12:00:27

  Alex splashed water on his face. He was in the bathroom, and his eyes were red and raw from the tears he’d cried with his parents. Snot was running from his nose. He wiped it on a towel embroidered with a P for Paul.

  He looked at his reflection as he dried his face. He didn’t look quite right. His skin was pale and stretched, almost translucent at parts. He could almost see his teeth through his cheek when he closed his mouth. His eyes were almost drained of colour, as if his irises had been bleached.

  He poked himself in the eye, but it didn’t hurt. He jabbed himself three more times. Still no pain.

  He opened his mouth, and it unhinged, going wide enough to swallow a melon. He slid his arm down his throat, up to his elbow. He waved to himself through his translucent stomach.

  Alex didn’t know a whole lot about anatomy, but he was fairly sure this shit wasn’t normal. He slowly pulled his arm out, and wiped it on Paul’s towel.

  “What a day,” he said, grinning.

  He left the bathroom, and joined the party. The music was blaring, slightly better now, someone had put on an eighties playlist. Hamish was grooving alone in the corner to Toto. Paul was deep in conversation with Stephen and his parents. For some reason that made him nervous.

  He caught Paul’s eye.

  “Have you seen Kate?” he asked.

  Paul nodded towards the front door, sipping his beer.

  Alex found Kate sitting on the stairs outside the building, staring into space. As he made his way down the steps, he thought about how he had felt when he was here this morning. Not the time he fell out the window, but the second time, when he went back inside to get dressed.