A Tapless Shoulder

by Mark McCann

  I looked at her, but was careful not to look hard. A sudden shutter came over me. I looked at the empty bottle on the table and wondered what I was about to say. “It wasn’t recent,” I began slowly, “but it wasn’t all that long ago either. Is there a word for that? Not recent, but not long ago; middle time? That, I don’t, it… anyway, I think we’re all in a weird place, maybe. All of us, right, maybe,” I laughed nervously, and looked at the different places I could have gone to sit down, but didn’t. I stood there silently. I was searching maybe for a sign, a clue; an area of the room that didn’t have breasts in it. My cell beeped with a new text message and I held my phone up; it was from Katie: Where are you? I turned away and texted back, at dads, home soon, explain, love you, FUCK.

  I was venting where I could. I slipped the phone into my pocket and shut my eyes like it was a fun thing to do. She was staring at me now and appeared quite amused. As for ideas, I had option A, point to the wall and run, or B, distract her by throwing up. I noted then that if I did it close enough to my dad he would probably have just thought he was to blame. Who was I kidding? The way things had been going with him lately, I could have thrown up in the neighbour’s house, written a confession on the side of a pig, and signed it with the name, Hooch McDraw Butt, and he would have been convinced he was to blame. He certainly wouldn’t have known otherwise, but he was too much of a stand-up guy to say it absolutely wasn’t his fault.

  “Listen honey,” she said finally, having tired of watching me blink, “your father and I are just having some laughs together, both a little misunderstood, both a little lonely, both…”

  “YUP,” I interrupted her, “you’re both a lot of things, I get it, hell, you, you,” I stuttered, “you are a lot of things; I can see that, I can hear that, but you have to…” I really didn’t know what to say to this man as a woman; I didn’t know what to say to this woman as a man. “I… maybe you should go,” I ventured with little hope. “Are you, or, no, I’m going to make sure he’s okay, and then I will go. You do what you have to, I mean, planned to, you and him, I don’t mean you and – oh God – may I never know. I don’t mean to be so, or whatever, but I just don’t want to learn anything ever again. At least not anything I won’t be able to forget by morning. I have a hard enough time sleeping. This is just, um, you know, not my business, it’s so not my business… okay, bye,” I turned to leave, but then turned back to face her, “Sorry, one more thing – did my dad call anyone named Nate that you know of recently?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey,” she said, examining a nail or pulling it off or something, I didn’t care.

  “My name’s Lewis, you don’t, please don’t call me honey,” I said, to myself mostly.

  “Oh honey, I just help your daddy out,” she continued, even while my face felt like it was screaming silently, “you know, get drinks, open them, let him enjoy these,” she said, rubbing the sides of her chest before switching to a little dance that primarily involved her shoulders and torso yet induced a tremendous amount of bounce in her bosom. Whatever it was she was doing required a tremendous amount of effort. It looked as though she was awkwardly rocking out and I feared awful things could only come of it. I wanted to bend in half and, with everything in me, yell please stop.

  I gathered the few strands I could of myself, “Please don’t do that,” I said quietly, again not to her. I stared blankly. My internal dialogue was still speechless. The perpetual stream that usually coursed through my head was completely silent and still. No wonder we kept our heads so full of crap, I thought: it was the perfect distraction from other crap. Now I’d lost my crap and resorted to thinking about thinking. It hadn’t been worth the effort. Again I had nothing but the situation at hand. She didn’t look to be much older than myself. I didn’t know why, but that seemed to be paramount to my confusion. “Enjoy those,” I said not only slower than I had meant to, but not at all in a tone that indicated something regarding an opinion or question and then I stopped without verifying anything. It was like when one moved on from a distraction only to realize that they actually hadn’t. Oh, am I still doing that? That is so weird how I’m still doing that. No more drugs for me – are those drugs?

  She found my befuddled state quite amusing and smiled broadly. “Was that a question or a statement, honey?” She pulled lipstick out from somewhere, my attention was no longer noting minor details of any kind, and began applying it to her face. I merely assumed it to be on her lips. I was done taking inventory of any kind.

  “Again, no… not honey,” I said flustered, now oblivious to what it was I had said. I finally looked at her directly and opened my mouth, “I mean, you two, aren’t, uh, shit, ah.” I trailed off like I was trying to teach a child the sounds letters made. Next I was just standing and breathing, and it seemed to help. Clarity of mind, I told myself, yes, I’ll try that, since the crap mind let me down. “They’re for show, I mean, it’s obvious that you put them there for show, or had them put there, to be touch, to, er, looked at,” I corrected myself, and fought an incredible urge to punch my own face. Would you excuse me please? I’m just going to take this moment and flush it down the toilet.

  “That doesn’t mean,” I paused. It was obvious I didn’t know where my line of thought was going, yet I followed anyway because it was all I had. “Well, I don’t really know what that doesn’t mean. I do know that it doesn’t make it right. Not that you are not right, you’re right as rain, right? I mean, like happy, you want to be happy, and as you are or however you are or want to be, and… um, I should shut my face up before I start singing to you,” I laughed nervously. “‘Right as rain,’ I don’t even know what that means,” my hands went up like I needed help. “The situation,” I thought I’d try again, “isn’t right for someone… who seems to be me. So yeah, I think I really should be going. I have to get up early for work tomorrow,” I surmised. I pulled my phone from my pocket, I hadn’t realized it, but it was already after one. At this rate I would only have a few hours to sleep, and there were three missed messages and a missed call.

  Why hadn’t I heard my phone? I wondered angrily. “I’m sorry but I really should get going,” I said, intending to wrap everything up right then and there. At that moment I was investing my life in the theory of less was better, survival of the one going, LA LA LA LA LA LA, the loudest.

  “Okay, honey,” she said, at which I raised my eyebrows to remind her of my earlier attempts at dissuading such talk, “in case you were wondering, my parents call me Richard, but you can—”

  “BYE,” I shouted and turned, opening the door to the sound of her laughter, as she yelled at me, “Candy, honey, its Candy.”

  Chapter 9 … Hold Me

  The door was unlocked, and most of the lights were off. Katie was lying in bed with her iPad, which she lowered when I leaned over to kiss her. She smiled at me as I ran my hand down her side and along her thigh.

  “Mm, should we do it?” I asked with my face against her cheek, which I kissed a couple more times, something I compulsively had to do.

  “Mm, no,” she said, with a tiny little laugh right after. “Love, you need to get some sleep.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said. “You will not believe the frigging night I just had – like you seriously won’t believe it. I’m on the verge of going to my doctor for depression and this shit happens to me.” I exhaled dramatically, not sure where to begin. I thought she should wildly guess at five random things that could have happened and I’d just say she was right.

  “Oh, why, what is Nate up to now?” she asked rolling her eyes.

  “Nate is just freaking out because he thinks someone is trying to kill him. We have no idea who, which doesn’t surprise me because nothing about tonight made sense. I mean, why should we have answers to stuff like that? That would just make everything not fucked and where would the fun be in that? Anyway, sorry, uh then, we think, the same person maybe called me and said shit I honestly couldn’t understand.”


  She sat upright with a stunned look on her face, “What?” she said way too loudly, and laughed as one certainly should upon hearing such an absurd number of things in a single statement.

  “Not so loud,” I said, “you don’t even want to know, I don’t want to know I know.” I shook my head and stared at her as I waited for my thoughts to settle into some sort of logical order. She raised her eyebrows in anticipation, and then tilted her head to indicate I needed to continue. “Man, okay, okay, well, first I went out with Nate; right, because he’s having his breakdown or whatever, anyway, we ended up back, of all places, at Raises The Bar. Hellfire is still licking at his butt hairs or something; that’s fine, whatever,” I looked around the room, momentarily at a loss as to what to do next.

  “Sit and tell,” Katie blurted out and pointed to the bed. I obeyed. She leaned forward so she could hear everything I said sooner.

  “I thought it was something stupid and I was right, but Nate, he is so out of sorts or something on this one,” I paused as Katie looked as though she really needed to add something of importance at that very moment.

  “Yeah, but Nate can be such a,” she paused to think of the right word, “idiot,” she said finally. “I thought either I was going to punch him in the face or your sister was; I think it was on your birthday. And remember how he kept spilling beer down his face? Unbelievable.”

  “Yeah, I do, we actually touched on that a bit tonight; I think it was very therapeutic for him,” I lied, apparently unnecessarily, as she put a considerable amount of effort into rolling her eyes and smirking.

  “Sorry, I just remembered that, anyway, sorry, go on,” she said, still shaking her head.

  “I know, I know. Um, so yeah, he’s all flipping out because someone called him up and said they were going to kill him and that’s fine. That was like… far from now ago, me English talker proud.” Katie laughed, I shook my head and continued, “You know what I mean, it was big at the time, but now, I just, I’m having a hard time caring at the moment. That problem got a lot smaller as the night went on. Whoever phoned him said whatever fairly forcefully because it had him, still has him, for that matter, shitting in his pants. According to Nate, there was a very crazy laugh, worst laugh ever. And then, for some reason, he thought it was me. He even actually asked me if I had called him. There is no way he could really have been convinced it had been me; otherwise why would he call me up and have me meet him? That just doesn’t make sense. Whatever: it doesn’t matter. We both know – and Nate knows – I have a hard time caring about things of a stupid nature. When the night began, this was no exception. I expressed complete indifference and I thought he was going to cry. I called Frankie; Frankie’s like, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I didn’t expect him to, either. Of course, I thought it was just a prank, but I felt I had to call someone. I mean, Nate was looking at me like I might suddenly stab him. I thought I should do something. Frankie wouldn’t waste his time trying to freak Nate out, or me for that matter, or, hell, maybe he would. Standing here now; I don’t know and I don’t care; not about that, not anymore.” I stood and undressed, and then sat back down on the bed. She seemed very excited about how eventful my night had been. I pretended it was because I was just in boxers.

  “I don’t get it. Did something happen at the bar?” she asked, realizing I was sharing but a fraction of the night’s chaos.

  “Uh, no, but there is… more. Since I was out dealing with really stupid shit anyway, I thought I’d stop by my dad’s and see how he was doing. Now that Mom’s gone, all he does is drink. I thought it would be a smart thing for me to do. Yeah, well, no matter how much thought I put into it; smart just isn’t my thing.” I shook my head. “Tonight was no different, to a degree: my dad, yes, was drunk as could be.” I paused and stared at her. I faked a smile, as though to say her beauty did indeed make me feel better. She smiled back sympathetically and I laughed. “You know how my dad mildly chuckles at everything; I keep meaning to pay attention when I’m around him because, being away from it now, when I say the word, chuckle, I have no idea what that actually means or sounds like. That man could make falling down a flight of stairs, while laughing his head off about it, be the quietest thing ever.” I looked at Katie with a very blank look. It was like I said; here I am, then quickly jumped away to content I deemed to be much safer. Her blank and listening face became mangled by confusion.

  “That’s – you’re – what?”

  “Sorry, I guess I just thought I’d share that with you before we got into the thick of it. Anyway, on our way to my dad’s, Nate got into a fight with not one but two guys. So there was that. You know; it amazes me how functional my dad is when he’s drunk, right up till he hits the floor. Seriously, he was, like, correcting grammar one second, and on the floor the very next. I think a chuckle finally did him in: it bent him over past the point of no return. I don’t know: it was very… different. As for the effed up phone call, I don’t care; it wasn’t a threat like Nate got, so I’m not – it’s not in my head.” I stopped and looked at Katie for an answer, but she hadn’t one. She actually looked like she had even more questions now than when the story began.

  “Wait, so you guys got in a fight with someone?” She asked; as she tried to put together the pieces to the puzzle I was slowly scattering before her.

  I shook my head, “No,” I said, “no, I didn’t. It was just what I said, but with less gloss. Nate hopped out and beat up some; I don’t even know, twenty year olds, maybe.” Pauses were unintentionally becoming safe havens for me; segues into the off-topic or already mentioned. I rubbed her leg. “I mean, fuck, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d have the courage to have a real talk with my dad, you know: heart to heart, father to son. I just watched Nate beat up two guys because they had bandanas.” My hand came up like something finally made sense. “They were probably farmers! Nate was all, they showed me their colours. Yeah, they were probably saying, hey, we’re farmers; don’t punch us in the face. And what does Nate go and do? Yes, exactly, he punches them in the face.” Katie’s eyes were wide and she had her hand to her mouth. I nodded and added quietly, “No more baby carrots for him.”

  “What the hell is wrong with Nate?” she asked, frowning with disapproval.

  “Who knows; maybe nothing, maybe lots. That’s… ancient history too,” I said and waved it away with my hand.

  “You mean there’s more? You mean you managed to get into something else after death threats and fighting in the streets?” she asked, unsure if she should be fascinated or frightened by this.

  “Oh yeah, we’re not even close, so far; that was just the tip, the horrible, God awful tip,” I said and turned my gaze from her to the wall in front of me.

  “Why, what happened?” Her curiosity was mounting with each word I used to explain it away.

  “Man, oh, man, well,” I took a deep breath; I was holding my head now like it was going to come apart. “We eventually made it to my dad’s. Uh, of course, he was completely hammered, just trashed, but what else is new? Not a big deal: a problem, of course, but, well, you know what I mean. It’s been like this since mom died. Why would it suddenly matter now? We should do something soon though, or move away.”

  “Okay, but why?” she pleaded, unable to satisfy her curiosity with the tiny morels I was doling out. It occurred to me I’d been keeping this to myself terribly; pointing at it the entire time, doing an interpretive dance around it, holding it out and making a face stricken with terror, and then wondered why she had grown so impatient over such a little snippet of information… of a disturbance… of an obviously overrated evening.

  “I’m getting there, I swear, I am getting there. Well, my dad… he wasn’t alone.” I looked at her again. She covered her mouth with her hands, and then put them on my lap, having clearly mistaken the problem for something else. “No, I don’t care if he dates, marries or starts a dead-stopped parade full of half-dressed mannequins that never leave his driveway. What I do
have a problem with, apparently,” I tried to clarify, “is…” I looked at the dog, back at the floor, then back at Katie. I had run out of distractions. I took a deep breath, “I guess my problem is the transvestite that’s parading around my dad’s house with his or her boobs practically, nearly, like they’ve got to be, almost completely out of her shirt. YEAH, my dad is… you fill in the blank here, to or with or from, maybe because of, a transvestite, a trans-vest-tight.” I paused in the oblivion the word threw me into. “Did I say, transvestite, yet? I just, I really want to be clear on the level of holy shit I’m at here. She… it’s her, right, like that’s what I should say? Call him, her; right? Or… like, come on, really? Anyway, yeah, there you have it.”

  “I guess so, yes, I say, yes about it being her… wow, really?” Katie sounded alarmed.

  “Yeah, I left in the middle of her telling me her name was, Dick Candy.”

  Katie laughed, and I joined her, but mine was not without abandon the way hers was; my laugh was small and was mostly from wanting to be able to laugh rather than actually being able to.