Fred & Mary

by Kipjo Ewers

  “You do know …that’s a doll …right Fred?”

  Barney’s innocent question brought Fred partially back to his senses.

  “Yeah …I know it’s a doll,” Fred swallowed. “But …”

  “But what?” Barney asked with squinted eyes. “You’re accusing me of attempting of having an affair …with your … doll?”

  “Well that’s inaccurate,” Fred coughed. “She wouldn’t be a willing party to …”

  “So now you’re accusing me of cheating on my wife, and attempting to molest your doll?”

  “Dude, sometimes you go too far and invade boundaries,” Fred fired back. “It’s the backseat all over again!”

  Barney’s jaw dropped as anger filled his face at Fred reliving what was supposed to be a buried topic between the two of them.

  “I told you for the umpteenth friggin time,” Barney growled. “It was Cynthia’s idea! What was I supposed to do, say no to a BJ?”

  “I was out of the car for five minutes Barney,” Fred wagged his finger at him. “Mary was asleep in the front for god sakes; you think she needed to wake up to that? You guys could have waited until we got back to the hotel!”

  “You know what sickens me about this conversation,” Barney bit back. “You never bring it up in front of Cynthia! You’ll beat me over the head with it, but you never go in on her!”

  “I’m not going to attack your wife, Barney.”

  “Okay, you want to hear it for the billionth-time Fred,” Barney glared at him. “I apologize on behalf of myself and my wife, who was not only a part of the incident but the instigator, for being sexual deviants in the backseat of your car while your wife was sleeping! It was after a Metallica concert, sue us! I also apologize for playing with your little dolly, which by the way ain’t all that, especially after you changed the face. And yes, I am giving you a half ass apology, because for the first incident I think I’ve said sorry way more than I need to, and for the second one …it’s a doll, Fred. Wake the fuck up man!”

  A fed up and disgusted Barney gave Fred his back as he attempted to calm himself. He realized he was a millisecond from his best friend kicking him out of his apartment. Not wanting it to come to that, he was prepared to turn around and muster up a sincere apology and salvage a conversation that went frigid cold south quickly.

  WHAM!

  Barney lurched forward after getting smacked square in the back of the skull with his own basketball, nursing the back of his head, he turned thunderstruck that Fred had the audacity to bean him with it.

  “No …you did not do …what I think you just did.” He snarled.

  A wide-eyed Fred who was nowhere in the proper trajectory to fire the volley glanced at an “innocent” looking doll, sitting cross legged and pretending to look out the window.

  “Uh …my bad … I was trying to throw it to you.”

  “My back was turned!”

  “I know,” Fred answered while covered in panic sweat. “You see …I was going to call your name …so you could turn around and catch it, but …I forgot.”

  Fred knew what was coming next. Barney advanced toward him unleashing the Larry David stare he had perfected. He kept eye contact with him throughout the entire torturous ordeal.

  Realizing Fred would not crack under his gaze, he withdrew giving him a sinister head nod.

  “Alright,” Barney cracked a calm smile.

  He picked up his basketball with his massive mitt and slammed it violently into his other palm while keeping his eyes targeted on Fred.

  “I gotta go; you and your dolly have a good day.”

  Barney slowly backpedaled toward the foyer seeing himself out. Fred listened out for the sound of the closing door and proceeded to head toward it to lock it.

  “Don’t bother,” she answered with the volume low on the phone. “I locked it already.”

  “Are you out of your ever …!” He turned to her.

  “Lower your voice,” she commanded him while standing up. “He’s listening at the door.”

  Fred snuck over to the door and slowly began to turn the lock so as not to be heard. It was not loud enough as he could hear the quick stomping of Barney’s enormous feet on the outside hardwood floor.

  Fred flew the door anyway just to make sure only to hear Barney scampering down the steps.

  With an eye roll, he shut the door locking it as he stormed back to living room to confront his devious wife. As he entered, she tossed him back his glasses to put on again.

  “Ya mad?” He snapped at her. “Wah ya lick the man with the ball for?”

  “Your sick perv of a best friend had a hand full of my left tit and was five seconds from sliding his ape fingers in between my underwear,” she defended her actions. “He had it coming, especially for the Metallica incident.”

  She shuddered as her mind went back to the traumatizing event, while Fred stood there with a face reading that ninety-five percent of him agreed with her action.

  “You do realize he’s going to go home and tell Cynthia, what ‘I’ supposedly did right?”

  “And?”

  Before he could answer, she walked away heading for the bedroom.

  “I’m going to change into my onesie and get dinner ready.”

  “You’re wearing the onesie again tonight,” Fred stammered.

  “Uh huh,” she nodded. “And since your idiot friend violated my underwear, I don’t feel like wearing any tonight.”

  She took them off in front of him dropping them to the floor and sashayed to the back. Fred stood there wincing due to the blood in his body pulling to one central location robbing him of all his senses.

  “Barney will be alright,” Fred muttered to himself.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the infamous basketball beaning incident, Barney’s demeanor toward him was off, especially at work. Not only did he no longer press the issue about Fred’s unnatural intimate closeness to the doll, but Fred could also feel him always observing him, which crept him out.

  It got so uncomfortable Fred found himself feeling paranoid, where he was looking over his shoulder, or leaping at his own shadow in both the parking lot and bathroom.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Having enough, Fred barged into Barney’s office one day to give him a stern ultimatum.

  “Whatever the hell you’re doing, knock it off!”

  “What?” A stunned Barney coiled back asking. “What I do?”

  “You know what it is you’re doing!” Fred snarled pointing at him. “So, knock it off!”

  He stormed out of his friend’s office with a face of confusion and irritation that made co-workers leap out of his path as he headed back to his office.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  The next day, Barney didn’t come into the office. His assistant claimed he was not feeling well and decided to work from home. Fred tried to call him only to get his voicemail. He left him both a message and a text asking if he was okay and apologizing for the outburst.

  During the day, Fred tried to contact him via work related emails by slipping in personal questions or comments. Barney removed the personal content, and forward the work-related stuff to his team so that they could deal with Fred.

  A mentally and emotionally exhausted Fred trudged to his Jeep at the end of the work day. His Apple watch buzzed as he got to the door of the vehicle. Knowing it was from Mary who he had not spoken to all day, he looked down to see what she wanted.

  Her message gave him owl eyes.

  “You’re coming home to an ambush.”

  “Say what?” Fred scowled in confusion.

  “More like an intervention,” she began to explain. “Veronica is here with Barney, Cynthia, and my sister.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he snorted. “Well, I just won’t come home then. I’ll wait them out.”

  “No, you won’t,”
she buzzed on his phone. “You’re going to bring your ass home and deal with this. You’re going to cut my sister off financially officially, and you’re going to tell everyone you are perfectly sane, you are just working through some things, to mind their own damn business, and then kick them the hell out of our home, in that order.”

  “I don’t want to,” he shook his head.

  “Bring your ass home ...now Fred.”

  “And if I refuse?” he swallowed.

  “I’m woman enough to admit I could be a bit of a bitch when I was alive,” the text came through. “You want to test me when I’m dead?”

  “Coming straight home,” Fred coughed.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Twenty minutes later, Fred was at his door preparing to walk into his intervention. Just as Mary informed him, he could feel and hear people within his apartment. He took a minute to gather himself, taking in a deep breath before he faced the familiar intruders within his domicile. His minute was a bit too long for a certain someone as his devices began to buzz.

  “I’m going in! Don’t rush me.” He whispered.

  Fred opened the door walking in with a face that said irritation, not surprise; which made everyone waiting for him a bit concerned and taken off guard. He slowly scanned the room meeting eyes with his sister Veronica, Barney, Cynthia, and Mary’s sister Sara.

  Sitting on the couch in one of her flower summer dresses was Mary. Judging by how she sat, she probably ran into the bedroom as they were coming up stairs. Barney must have carried her out so that Fred could face his “problem.” He was sure there was going to be a conversation about the attire she had on that everyone had seen the living Mary in while she was still alive.

  With a sigh, he dropped his bag and folded his arms getting into a defensive position to take them on.

  “So, what’s this all about?”

  The environment became even more awkward especially for Veronica, as Fred’s eyes remained locked on her with a disapproving glare, probably because she had the only other keys to his apartment and was responsible for letting everyone else in.

  The primary objective was to catch Fred unawares and slowly guide him to admitting to having a problem.

  He, however, had a demeanor as if everyone present had the problem, and was prepared to tell them about themselves.

  “Okay,” Veronica began clearing her throat. “Fred, Barney contacted me and told me what was going on.”

  “And what exactly is going on V?” Fred narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Fred, come on man,” Barney stepped in. “You’ve been acting hella weird since you bought this doll. You said it was just a sleep aide, but mad people have stated that they spotted you around town with this thing as if you’re dating it. You bought a brand-new Jeep …”

  “What does I purchasing a new vehicle have anything to do with you?” Fred held a hand up stopping him in his tracks.

  “It’s just not like you Fred,” Cynthia chimed in attempting to explain what her husband meant tactfully.

  “Why is this thing wearing my sister’s dress?”

  The question came from Sara, who finally decided to put her two cents into the conversation.

  Fred addressed her with the dullest look he could conjure up.

  “Last I checked, that dress belonged to my wife along with everything else that she owned, which currently resides right here in my house. That means I can do whatever I damn please with it, including donating it, burning it, wearing it my damn self if I choose to, or dressing a doll with it.”

  A buzzed rang through his watch. He rolled his eyes as he glanced at it.

  “You could have left out the wearing my clothes bit,” Mary reprimanded him.

  “They’re my sister’s things!” She pressed. “You could have given them to me.”

  “I think I’ve given you enough Sara.” Fred scowled at her.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You really want everyone here to hear, how much of your sister’s royalty money I put in your hand after her death?” Fred asked with widened eyes.

  “I never asked you …!” She squealed.

  “No, not directly,” he cut her off. “You usually lead with how tight things are, or that your deadbeat for a man ain’t got a job yet. Why are you here anyway?”

  Her visage was a mixture of stunned, hurt, and embarrassed. It did nothing to chip Fred’s new granite demeanor that was fed up with everyone within his vicinity.

  “Fred, what are you doing?” Veronica stepped in to protect her. “There was no reason to go there, man.”

  “You’re right V,” he snapped at her. “I should be going in on you for letting people up into my house without my permission, or maybe I should go in on the orchestrator of this little intervention, who probably neglected to tell his wife that he was up in my house coping a feel on my doll while I was in another room. Were you trying to see if she could clench you?”

  A flushed Barney stood there with a face as if he had been backhanded by Fred who blatantly violated the bro code. The intervention indeed had gone south as he could feel his wife’s disapproving glare burn the back of his neck. He knew there would be a very detailed conversation about this new revelation and the clenching comment the second they got into the car, all the way home, and all night until the both of them were exhausted from lack of sleep.

  “What the fuck man …” was all Barney could get out.

  “All right enough!” Cynthia stepped in to try and take control of the intervention. “Fredrick Garrett, we are your friends and family! Now as creepy as this thing looks to me, if you want it in your house for whatever reason that is your business. But I saw you sitting on a park bench having a full-blown conversation with it, and then slipping it some tongue. And I’m not the only one. Now you don’t have to talk to us, but don’t you think you need to see someone and talk about this before it gets way out of hand?”

  “I actually am.” He drew a sarcastic smile across his face. “Doctor Samuel Murdock, who I am currently seeing to deal with the fact that I saw my wife killed right in front of me. Who also got me into a weekly grief counseling group to talk about the fact that I saw my wife killed in front of me. Then there are the three different antidepressant medications I am currently taking so I don’t end up slitting my wrists over the fact that I saw my wife killed in front of me. And you know something Cynthia …none of it is fucking helping, other than to remind me that I saw my wife get killed in front of me!”

  His anguished roar silenced everyone in the room.

  “I’m a good person. My wife was a great person!” Fred continued his rant. “She never hurt anyone! All she wanted to do was write books, have children, and to live the rest of her life with a lucky son of a bitch like me! And it all got taken away by some little selfish pubescent bitch, who couldn’t pull over or wait till she got to her fucking destination to read her fucking text message! In an age and time where it has been said over and over again ‘do not text and fucking drive!’ My life got obliterated, while that little cunt gets to spend a couple of years in juvie! Her record will most likely be sealed due to good behavior, and she’ll go on to possibly get married and have a family of her own putting all of this behind her, while my life remains scorched fucking Earth, and my wife six feet under.

  And I’m the one who’s supposed to get over it, get help, and learn to live some semblance of a normal life?”

  He turned his full attention and rage at Barney, ignoring everyone else in the room.

  “Despite the eternal hole in my chest, I haven’t blown my brains out, choked on some pills, or jumped out a window. I find a way to drag my ass out of bed every day and make it into a job that I use to love but now feels like it’s sucking the soul out of me. I pay my bills and maintain some semblance of life. So, if I want to play with a life size doll to keep my shit together from time to time, it’s no one’s fucking b
usiness!”

  On instinct, he glanced down at the message buzzing on his Apple Watch.

  “Enough, they’re still our friends and family. Ask them nicely to leave.”

  Fred left out a soft huff before he complied with a head nod.

  “Um, thank you all for your concern, but I’d like you all to leave please.”

  “Fred, what if everyone else left and you and I talked?” Veronica pleaded stepping forward.

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now V; I just want to be left alone. Please.”