by Brock Rhodes
A man is finalizing his divorce to everything. He's managed to put all of his essentials into a lidded tub that an ex-girlfriend gave to him. He wanted even less baggage, but the tub was the perfect size for the job.
He hits the down arrow three times before it glows, indicating that the notoriously slow moving elevator has been summoned. He murmurs, “Only took three times,” and smiles.
In order to keep from thinking what he's thinking about he forms a task list while gently head banging to a song he's swishing while recklessly composing. “Okay... I have to get some gas. Get a map. What else? What else?”
The elevator door splits and slides into the wall revealing two beautiful young women, one dark and one light, wrapped in white bedsheets that they're wasting their hugs on to keep in place. They're both obsessively preened and cleaned, with flawless skin, lollipop toes, and hair primped like set traps.
He hops aboard the elevator while grinning a contagious grin that stretches his face further than it has been stretched for quite some time. He nods, “Hello, hello,” while locking eyes with the dark woman as he moves to the right of them both. A grin grows on her face as well. The lock is broken as they both look at the light woman, who smiles at the man.
“You're in a good mood tonight.”
“My friend is recording this with her cellphone. So, please don't do anything weird.”
His look degrades into a squint, and he turns away from the girls and towards the elevator doors. The dark one follows.
“Say hello to your sister for me.”
“Which one?”
“She knows who she is.”
“You have to tell me which one. We don't all live together anymore.”
“Well, have a get together. Tell them both I said hello. Whichever one looks the most like she's trying to hide her reaction is probably her. Probably.”
“You pig.”
In a jerk, they face each other and he pokes her watering eyes with, “You pile of slop.”
Her grin grows back to raise his eyebrow. He tucks his tub in the corner and bows to the floor to straddle her feet. Slyly, she raises her bedsheets to expose her knee. Oinking, he nibbles on her kneecap and dry humps her feet. She guffaws.
“Stop it!” Still laughing, she shifts her sheets higher to keep herself covered with one arm and to punch him as hard as she can in the nose with the other. A drop of blood hits her feet as he jumps up and away to prevent more of the same.
The light one gasps, “That's enough, mister! I'm going to call the police!”
With his head tilted back and fidgeting from adrenaline he explains to the light one, “Don't be silly. If you haven't noticed, her and I know each other. This is our relationship. I get to bite her kneecap and hump her feet as long as I make pig noises and let her punch me in the face. She doesn't call the cops. Just like the good old days, right baby?”
“Right... Don't call the police. He's nothing to worry about.”
After a long exhale, he picks up his tub and faces the elevator.
“Where are you two off to tonight, anyway?”
“Girls' night out.”
“What does that mean?”
A moment passes in silence before he looks over at the dark one who is in the middle of swallowing and staring at the ground to avoid him.
“You should tell your mom I said hello, too.”
The dark one takes a step towards him and raises her hand. He ducks behind his tub for a moment and then peaks only to be smacked, which causes him to duck behind the tub again. He thinks it's over and he puts down his guard only to get smacked again. He laughs.
“Damn, all you sisters are feisty. At least I know it's not me, it comes from your momma.”
She uses both hands to keep covered and starts kicking him. She connects hard with his shin and it makes him hit the ground and drop his tub, spilling what remains of his life onto the elevator floor. Underwear, a few pairs of jeans, t-shirts, socks, more underwear, toothpaste, a comb, an electric razer, nothing fancy. She continues kicking him as he repacks his tub.
“Oooooh. Where are you going tonight with all of that underwear and an electric razor?”
“I'm leaving.”
“To where?”
“Away. For good.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Why?”
“I'm trying not to kill myself.”
“Why would you want to kill yourself?”
“I don't want to kill myself. That's why I'm trying not to do it.”
“Why would you have to try?”
“I don't know.”
“You're such a pussy.”
The light one curls her shoulders like a turtle shell at the thought she is a third wheel. The elevator stops and he and the dark one lock eyes as the light one sprints away.
“It was good to see you.”
“It was good to see you, too. It's been awhile”
“I'm going to miss you.”
“We never see each other anyway. Besides, there are other punching bags.”
“Yeah, but you're the best I ever had.”
She opens her arms, dropping her sheet, to hug him. Alternating her nipples between pokes and drags she spells, “... _ _ _ ._. ._. _._ _”
“It's too late for that now.”
“I know. But make sure to let me know where you are, just in case.”
“I'll walk you out. Which way are you going?”
She looks away from him and picks up her sheet. Re-wrapping herself and staying out of another connection she explains, “You can't. There's a spotlight waiting for me at the front door. You can't be in it.”
He looks at her knowing that this is the last time he is ever going to see her, and she's not looking back.
“I don't want to be in it. I'll just sneak out the back. Just like the good old days.”
“Perfect.”
“Perfect.”
She storms off in a huff to catch up to the light one.
AN HOUR AIN'T GONNA BE LONG ENOUGH, DAVE
