13,374 words.
Whenever he'd go to or from downtown Russ always took the long way down 1st Street. He knew he could find Bobby in one of two places. Either at the Donut Wheel or the V&E Club. Usually at the V&E but if it was early in the morning he'd be at the Donut Wheel.
Russ would pop in and usually everyone knew him as well as they knew Bobby. They had been roommates for 3 years. Russ was always at the local comic book stores, DVD stores, and, before they tore it down, the biggest arcade in Livermore, which used to be next door to the V&E Club. But they turned it into a Chinese restaurant.
Bobby and Russ were two peas in a pod, in the eyes of people, even though they were very different and everyone knew that. But they were roommates and somehow they generated similar affection from people who didn't know them well.
Bobby always drank a lot of coffee at the Donut Wheel, even though it wrecked his stomach. Sometimes that 75 cent all-you-can-drink coffee would be the only thing he’d put in his stomach if he didn’t have enough money. That's not even eating.
"Why don't you eat a donut or something?" Russ would ask him.
"I told you I don't like donuts Russ!"
"Okay okay don’t blow your lid."
"You're always askin' me and tellin' me things like that!"
One thing that worried Russ about Bobby is that he didn't eat much. Bobby's legs were underdeveloped since birth. He could walk but it was a struggle. He'd walk around the house but he'd go in his wheelchair anytime he went out. He just about 100lbs. He was really skinny if you looked him closely, but he usually wore flannel shirts and baggy pants so it was hard to tell exactly. Usually Bobby ate a Top Ramen or two in the evening for dinner, but that was it for the whole day. So it was coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, ramen at night, and cigarettes all during the day. Bobby always said he wasn’t hungry. He said the coffee hurt his stomach, so it made it hard for him to eat until it calmed down at night. The noodles were soft and easy to eat. They went right down.
Russ on the other hand ate a lot. Anyone who saw him could tell that right away. He was a big guy. Over 6 foot 4 inches and weighed closer to 400 than 300 lbs. He liked to eat, but the weight was from drinking a couple two liters of soda everyday. Russ took a lot of medication that made him sleepy and the soda gave him a little burst that helped him up during the day. He always brought his gallon sized mug from 7-eleven with him. Wherever he went.
Russ loved to cook, so he’d always have a big batch of something going during the day. His Mom bought him a crock pot for Christmas one year. He'd go to Costco and buy big bags of beans, vegetables, some meat, spices, and make chili. Or, he'd buy some corned beef and throw some potatoes and carrots in there. He loved that crock pot. It was so easy to just throw stuff in there and let it cook all night. He tried to show Bobby how to use it, thinking that maybe Bobby would eat more if he knew how easy it could be to make food. Bobby had no time for it. He didn’t like to cook.
That said Bobby did like to eat what Russ cooked. In that case Bobby would eat something besides Top Ramen. He'd be in his room with the door closed, smoking cigarettes, but as soon as he smelled some good food he'd crack open his door and say: "Boy that sure smells good Russ, whatcha cookin in there?"
He wasn't discreet about it. He didn't think about the fact that he said the same thing every time. He didn’t remember. If he was hungry, and he smelled good food, he wanted some, and asked for it.
Russ knew this and so he'd always make extra. He made enough so he could put some in the freezer, and a little more because he knew Bobby would eventually want some. Bobby wasn’t the best roommate. For example, he didn't help pay for any of the food. He just ate it when it was given to him. And he didn't help do the dishes afterwards. But Bobby did need to eat more. That was for sure. So Russ fed him when he could.
Russ and Bobby both smoked. Bobby smoked more often and always bought the cheapest cigarettes possible at the Bottle, Book & Smoke just around the corner from the V&E Club. It didn't matter to Bobby what brand it was. He wanted whatever carton was cheapest. That changed every week or two. So Bobby changed his cigarette of choice right along with it. If it was cheap, Bobby bought it. He usually went through a pack a day. Sometimes he’d smoke more if he got a really good deal on a carton. He'd smoke most of them at a picnic table out behind the V&E Club. Often times, because they were such cheap cigarettes, a lot of them ended up bent or crushed in his shirt pocket.
When Bobby first came to Livermore, you could still smoke in bars. Even after the smoking ban, if one of the bartenders was really drunk, people at the V&E would start lighting up. Depended on which bartender was there. If it was the manager, then no way. He didn’t want a thousand dollar fine on his ass, he’d say. But if it was his wife, and she was drunk and the manager wasn't there, it was possible. One or two people would light up and she'd be too busy drinking or flirting to tell people to put it out. Soon enough she’d be smoking too.
Russ on the other hand bought raw tobacco at Costco and rolled his own cigarettes. Usually when he watched TV at night. He had this roller machine that was a little fun to use. This was actually cheaper than what Bobby did, and Russ tried to explain that to Bobby many times. But for whatever reason Bobby didn't want to mess with it. He liked to just pull out a cigarette and smoke it, as he told Russ. He didn't like to deal with “all that other crap.”
Sometimes, if Bobby's support money was late and he didn't have any cash he'd end up smoking one of Russ’s cigarettes if Russ made it for him. Bobby had trouble doing it. He had trouble getting his hands to do what he wanted them to do. It was like with the food that Russ would cook. Bobby would come out of his room and after a few seconds of small talk he’d say, "Hey Russ you think you could roll me one of those cigarettes?" Russ would always act like it was the first time Bobby had asked and he'd give him the lecture about how it's cheaper anyway and why didn’t he do the same. Bobby didn't want to hear it and sometimes he'd give Russ an earful in return. Why'd he always try to talk him into smoking those? He preferred the regular cigarettes but he didn't have his money yet so he had to smoke the rolled up kind. Russ would just chuckle, his mouth hidden by his bushy mustache, his big shoulders moving up and down under his extra extra large white t-shirt. He'd finish rolling the cigarette with his little rolling machine and hand it over his shoulder to Bobby in a way that suggested he'd be better off taking Russ's advice. Bobby would go back to his room a little pissed off. He’d slam the door and smoke it while he surfed the Web.
Bobby's right leg was a little shorter than his left and it was also bowed inwards. Neither of his legs was very strong. And they were even skinner than the rest of him. When Bobby walked he'd have to balance himself on his left leg and kind of let his right do what it wanted. Sometimes what it did was what he wanted, and sometimes it did what it wanted. He could step just fine with his left leg, but when it came to the right it was hit and miss. Sometimes he'd land on the sole of his foot, sometimes he'd land on the side. When it landed on the side it hurt like hell. His foot was always sore, bruised and scraped up. Bobby went through pairs of shoes really fast because the right shoe was always getting mangled and worn out within a couple months. Bobby had a lot of pride, so he always asked Russ to keep an eye out for decent shoes at the second hand store.
Because it was hard for him to walk he’d sometimes fall over. He’d use his wheelchair in any situation possible, mostly because of his pride. Russ had never actually seen Bobby fall down. But sometimes he could hear a crash in the bedroom and he was pretty sure it was Bobby falling on the carpet floor. Russ would usually yell out "Hey you having an accident in there?" Bobby just wouldn’t answer. He’d also fallen a couple times at the V&E Club. The manager’s wife told Russ about it one time. Russ figured the only time Bobby didn’t use his wheelchair was either at home, and between the bar stool and the back patio at the V&E Club. Even when he went out behind the V&E Club to smoke he took his wheelchair.
Neither Bobby or Russ ever had a girlfriend. But Bobby was always busy trying to meet girls on the Internet. At one point a girl from Arizona had come and stayed with Bobby and Russ for a few days. But Bobby made her sleep on the couch. She was really heavy. As big as Russ. Bobby told Russ he ought to go for her. Russ said she was in love with Bobby. They both laughed in secret, even when she was there. Still, long after she’d left and Bobby had stopped chatting with her, he and Russ still talk about her. A lot.
Neither Bobby nor Russ ever had sex until Chan’s opened up on the outskirts of town. Chan’s was a bar, run by an Asian guy, but it was well-known as a place where you could hire prostitutes. Before that the only time Russ had seen or touched a female in a sexual way was his sister when they were growing up in Ceres in Central California. Russ was embarrassed about this and only told someone when a government counselor asked him about it again and again during therapy.
Bobby had gone to strip clubs a few times with guys from the V&E Club, but that was it until Chan’s. At the strip clubs he’d touch girls when he put a dollar in their bikini, but those were the only times he really touched anybody, except shaking hands, giving or taking money.
It seemed like Bobby was always mad at Russ. Or if he wasn’t mad he was frustrated. Almost mad. It took a lot for Bobby to make Russ mad. But it happened once in a while, even if Russ wasn't very good at showing it. Bobby always owed Russ money. Not a lot of money, but at least a little. Always. Granted, Russ got more money from the government that Bobby. Bobby probably deserved more, because he was technically handicapped. Russ wasn’t. But Russ’s mom had “jumped through all the right hoops,” as Bobby put it, to get the money from the government. Bobby couldn’t be bothered. He got some money that he’d been getting since he lived with his mom. But that was about it. Russ’s mom had tried to help Bobby get more money, but she couldn’t do everything for him, and Bobby couldn’t do anything for himself.
So usually Bobby couldn't pay his entire share of the rent. He'd end up $50 short one month, maybe $10 the next. Russ knew that like clockwork once the end of the month rolled around Bobby would start being really nice to him. He'd come out from his bedroom more often, sit on the couch and watch TV with Russ. Try to engage him in conversation about this and that. In general, he'd take more of an interest in Russ's life. After a few days of this Bobby would work up the courage to ask Russ if he could give him a break on the rent this month and he'd pay him back the next month when he got his next check from the state. Bobby hated to ask for help, because of his pride. But he had to do what he had to do. Like with the food.
Russ never said much about it. Occasionally he'd complain that Bobby had said the same thing the month before. But it wouldn't turn into much of an argument. Bobby would evade the argument. He’d tell Russ he really needed the help. That he'd had a more expensive month than he'd planned. Somehow Bobby's belief in his own innocence made Russ feel sorry for him, so he'd back off. The whole thing frustrated Russ. And he kept track of every penny Bobby owed him. He never told Bobby the amount directly, because he didn’t want the confrontation. But eventually he did tell other people. He’d go into the V&E Club to visit Bobby and he’d work it into the conversation. Bobby hated that. He’d tell Russ the next morning that he didn’t have to tell everybody that. That there was a perfectly good reason he hadn’t paid all his rent. That Russ knew that. Why did he have to embarrass him in front of everyone at the bar?
The thing that made Russ the angriest was that Bobby didn't have much in the way of expenses. Russ knew all of Bobby’s expenses because if he needed Top Ramen from Costco or new shoes he’d give Russ the money and ask him to buy it. Other than that he'd drink coffee at the Donut Wheel and buy cigarettes. Russ knew exactly how much that stuff cost.
But Bobby's big expense was alcohol, mostly beer, down at the V&E Club. Russ wasn’t sure how much that cost because Russ didn’t drink on account of the medication he had to take. Much like Russ did, the manager of the V&E Club would let Bobby slide day to day. He'd let him run a tab. But as opposed to Russ, the manager always eventually made Bobby pay him in full. He had something he could take away from Bobby. Alcohol. If Bobby didn’t pay his tab then he’d tell Bobby he couldn’t drink a drop until he did. That usually did the trick. He knew Bobby got his check from the state around the fifth of each month. So he’d start threatening Bobby on or around the first. Then, he’d cut him off on the third or fourth.
Unfortunately for Russ, the rent on their unit was due on the first. After the fifth it was considered late. Russ liked to pay the rent on the first, because it was easier for him to remember to pay. But Russ learned pretty quickly that Bobby never had money on the first. Why? He used to think it was because Bobby couldn’t save money. In part, he was right. Bobby did spend all his money every month. But Bobby always kept a little in reserve, because he couldn’t be sure that his check would arrive by the time he was cut off at the V&E Club. So he’d try to keep an emergency fund in his room. If that was gone, and his check was late, he wouldn’t pay Russ any money. He’d go to the V&E and plead with the manager to give him a break until the sixth or the seventh. If the manager said no then Bobby would go buy a six-pack and drink in his room. But he didn’t like to drink at home. Alone.
At one point Bobby owed Russ $3,742. Russ was really angry, but he never really told Bobby about it. He would drop hints and poke fun at Bobby because he knew Bobby had a lot of pride. He would deliberately make food in his crock pot and when Bobby cracked his door open and started talking about how good it smelled Russ would just agree and not offer any. While this did bother Bobby it didn’t make him pay the money. So Russ would try to find other ways to punish Bobby, and Bobby would get more and more angry at Russ, but nothing would really change.
Russ got angry too, but not at Bobby. He’d get angry at his mom because when Russ talked to her about the situation she would get worried and angry. Finally, against Russ’s wishes his Mom talked to Bobby herself. She made Bobby promise to give her his whole check on the 5th of the next month. And he did. Bobby was nice to her about it, but he was really angry at Russ. Bobby didn’t talk to Russ for the better part of a week. Bobby even had drink six-packs alone in his room for a few days. In turn, Russ got angry at his mom and decided he’d have to keep similar information from her in the future.
If you looked at Bobby close enough you could guess he was overly sensitive. He was almost always very polite. He didn’t wear his cap down low over his eyes; it usually sat pretty far up on his head so you could see some light through the mesh. He was very agreeable, except maybe with Russ. And if Bobby did poke fun at someone, it was done harmlessly. The one thing that caused Bobby to lose his temper was if he thought someone was trying to demean or shame him. And what was demeaning and shaming in Bobby’s mind was an awful lot. There were a lot of situations where Russ would say something to Bobby, not intending to make fun of him, but Bobby would take it the wrong way and get angry.
One time they were watching a baseball game together and Bobby said he really hated this one player on the Mets. Bobby was saying things like if he ran into him at a bar or something that he'd try to nail him upside the head. Russ started laughing and said "he'd be have to be sitting on the floor for you to get to him." That really ticked Bobby off. He told Russ he wasn’t in any position to talk about someone’s body size or shape, and that he could go screw off. Then he went in his room and slammed the door. Russ liked to tell people that if Livermore were the Wild West, and Bobby had a gun, he'd shoot someone every day, like Billy the Kid did. To Russ, Bobby was a little like Billy the Kid without a gun. He'd get angry, but there was nothing he could do. He was too small, and usually in a wheelchair. He couldn't even hit or break a bottle over someone's head and run. Anyone could catch Bobby, unless they were in a wheelchair too and even then they'd probably get him. Bobby didn't start using a wheelchair until he was 15 so he wasn’t like one of those guys in chairs you see playing basketball and doing marathons.
But Russ had trouble standing up to Bobby just the same. The only person Russ ever argued with was his mom. He hated confrontation. That was part of the reason he was uneasy trying to get rent, or giving Bobby crap about always asking for cigarettes or food. Mostly Bobby seemed really lonely to Russ. And being lonely himself, he could sympathize. The last thing he wanted was for Bobby to move out.
Most of Bobby’s friends were on the web, or at the bar. It was hard to even call those people friends. He was always arguing with people at the bar. Usually because someone was trying to cut him off and make him go home before dusk. That made Bobby really angry because he felt like they were treating him like a kid. That he couldn’t take care of himself, which in turn called attention to his size and wheelchair.
A lot of times Bobby would start drinking at 1 p.m. and by 5 p.m. he'd be asking for his 6th or 7th beer. For a hard drinker of normal size that might be too much. But for Bobby, who weighed about 100 lbs., didn't eat much, and drank no water during the day, it was a lot. When Bobby first started going to the V&E Club, the bartenders didn’t notice. They were usually drinking right along with everyone else, so even if Bobby fell off his stool or had to crawl to the bathroom, nobody thought much about it. That sort of thing wasn’t uncommon at the V&E. Other people fell off their stools, walked into the jukebox, fell on the floor and worse. The fact that Bobby was in a wheelchair made it slightly more funny to them, but people didn’t laugh that much because they quickly understood how sensitive Bobby was.
Not long after Bobby had moved in, Russ was watching TV on a Sunday afternoon, twirling the hair on the back of his neck, smoking a cigarette, when he herd a knock at the door that led into the garage. Russ rocked back into the couch and threw his weight forward to get up and answer the door. It was a policewoman. She told Russ that she'd picked up Bobby on South M Street. That he'd passed out in his chair. That it looked like he passed out and gently rolled into a little dirt area next to a bush. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but he was out cold when she found him. She said he was really lucky to not have rolled right out into the street. Bobby was still in the police car. She gestured toward the car. Russ could see Bobby’s head and the light coming though the mesh part of his hat. Russ and the policewoman walked to the car. She opened the door. Bobby’s head was back, stretching his mouth wide open. He wasn’t snoring, but a slight gurgle came from his mouth. The policewoman took his wheelchair out of the trunk and set it up in the garage. Together they pulled Bobby out of the car. Russ picked up Bobby in his arms, like a baby. He held Bobby as the police woman explained that since she’d never picked him up before she’d let this one go, but in the future she’d have to take him to the drunk tank. Bobby was nudged his head into the crick of Russ’s arm.
Russ told the woman that he’d give Bobby the message when he woke up. Just then Bobby woke up. He pushed against Russ’s chest and said “Dammit! I can do it myself! Leave me alone!” So Russ put him on the ground. Bobby had trouble graining his feet and he stumbled toward the door.
The policewoman gave Russ her business card and told him to have a good day. Russ nodded and walked into the kitchen. Bobby was sitting on the kitchen floor when Russ came in. Even though he acted calmly, Russ was a little scared. He hadn’t been around many drunk people. He just saw them on TV and in movies. His Mom never drank. His evil step mom did. He had seen her drunk, but she'd usually just laugh a lot, maybe throw up if she’d drank a lot, cry, and then go to bed.
"You okay?" Russ asked looking down at Bobby. Bobby said nothing, which Russ might have expected. He left Bobby there to sober up and went back to the TV.
After about 15 minutes there was a loud thump. Russ was startled and he whipped his head around. It looked like Bobby had stood up, walked about 5 feet and fallen over. Russ stared at Bobby. He wanted to help him but he figured Bobby might get mad. Bobby tried to stand up again but only made it about half way up before falling on his front again. His legs moved a little. Russ thought he looked a spider trying to swim. He crawled forward a little and then fell down again. He let out a groan. Russ got nervous and started balling the hair on his arm.
After about 5 minutes Russ turned around and looked at Bobby. "You want some help there Bobby?" Bobby didn't say anything at first. He just groaned again. So Russ stood up and walked over.
"Get away Russ," he finally said out the side of his mouth.
"Ok, have it your way. You try to help out a guy…and he tells you to get away" He sat back down in front of the TV. He turned up the volume.
Russ didn't hear anything for a while. Bobby started to snore, which Russ figured was good. At least he was breathing. Except then he could smell something too. He stood up, being afraid of what he thought might have happened. Bobby had peed his pants.
"Bobby, goddamit,” Russ said. He stood up, wanting to do something. He was angry and wanted to crush Bobby. He stomped on the floor and went into his room. “Get up and go to the damn bathroom!" He threw his hands in the hair. “Are you kidding me?” he said to himself again. Bobby, of course, didn’t hear. He was still snoring. Russ opened the door to confirm that he had indeed seen correctly, that Bobby had peed the floor. He shook his head and slammed the door. A minute later he came out to retrieve his mug. He slammed the door again.
He rolled a cigarette and smoked it. He took some sips of coke from his mug and looked up some home repair web sites for cleaning urine stains. He shook his head. “You peed the floor?” he said out loud, as if Bobby were sitting right there.
He was really angry at Bobby. It was one thing to come home drunk and fall on the floor. It was another to pee on the floor. There was no way he was cleaning that up. “I am not cleaning that up,” he said to himself. Bobby would have to clean that up. He got up and opened the door again. Bobby was still in the same position and was snoring a little louder. “Bobby, you better clean that up.” He shook his head and slammed the door. He called his mother and told her what happened. She was furious and wanted to drive there right then. That maybe Russ had better find a new roommate. Russ, in turn, got angry at her. He told her it was ridiculous for her to drive all the way from Modesto to Livermore so that she could clean his roommate’s pee.
She insisted on coming over to clean it up and Russ insisted Bobby had to do it. His Mom wouldn't let up about it and that he was going to bed. Then he hung up the phone.
The next morning Russ walked into the front room. Bobby was gone, but the pee was still there. There was a faint smell of urine as well. Russ went straight to Bobby's door. He stood there for a second, thinking about what he wanted to say. Then he knocked. There was no answer so he opened the door. Bobby was on his floor and there were cigarettes all over the room. Like Bobby had a fight with a box of cigarettes. He had one leg up on the bed and the rest of his body was on the floor. Russ walked back out and looked over the stain on the carpet. It was going to be hot that day and if no one cleaned it up it would smell really bad. “He’s going to have to clean that up himself,” he said out loud.
Bobby didn't clean it up, but Russ was determined not to. Russ got more and more angry as the week went on. At the same time he didn’t want to completely ruin their relationship by getting too angry. Bobby more or less acted like he didn’t even know the stain was there. On the third day Bobby took the doormat from the front door and put it over the stain. The next day, while Russ was taking a nap, Bobby threw some Comet under the doormat and sprayed air-freshener all over it.
Eventually Russ's Mom cleaned it up when she visited that weekend. Russ didn't want her to do it. Mostly because he was determined that Bobby should do it. But he let his mom finally do it because the smell made him want to throw up.
Over the next couple months similar problems surfaced. Bobby would get drunk at the V&E Club; break things of Russ’s, pass out in the bathroom so Russ couldn’t use the toilet, eat Russ’s food. Russ would try to talk to Bobby about these things, but Bobby was good at avoiding Russ if he knew he’d done something to make him mad. He'd go to the Donut Wheel earlier than normal. Before Russ would wake up. When he'd come home he'd go straight to his bedroom for the night. Russ would start to wonder if Bobby was mad at him. When Russ would try to talk to him about any of it Bobby would get defensive. He’d tell Russ to leave him alone. Russ would try to make it seem like he wanted to talk about something else. He’d ask Bobby if he’d met any girls on the internet lately. Bobby might look at him suspiciously then tell him he’d been chatting with a couple women. But when Russ tried to move to the subject of the V&E Club Bobby would have none of it. He’d just go into his bedroom, shut the door, and light a cigarette.
One day Russ got really angry. He was fed up. He stood up and walk to Bobby’s bedroom. He knocked on the door. Bobby yelled “What!?”
Russ opened the door. Bobby was at his computer and he didn’t even turn around. Bobby’s room was a mess. He’d never really noticed before. There were several ashtrays and empty cigarette boxes on the floor. A few girly race car magazines were near the bed and an open box of Russ’s cereal was on the desk.
Russ stared at the back of Bobby’s head. Bobby almost always wore a hat, but when he was in the house he took it off and put it next to the computer. Bobby’s neck was thin and he had a scar that led from the top of his neck almost all the way to his right ear. Bobby looked even smaller with his hat off, but at that moment, even smaller. There was a ring around his head from where his hat had been.
Bobby finally turned around. “What the hell do you want Russ?” he said, turning back to the computer.
“You know, when you get drunk you cause a lot of problems around here. My mom isn’t happy about it.”
“Well, tell her I’m sorry about that,” he said, earnestly.
Russ didn’t tell Bobby directly that he should stop going to the bar, but he suggested it in a number of different ways. Sure enough, Bobby got frustrated and told Russ to leave him the hell alone. That he was damned embarrassed about the whole situation, and to stop bringing it up. Russ was pretty sure that was the first time he’d really brought it up, but he didn’t say that. He just stared at the scar on the back of Bobby’s head. When he realized that Bobby was done talking and that he didn’t have anything more to say, he shut the door. He sat back down in front of the TV. But Russ was still pissed off. The pee on the floor, a broken window in the kitchen, the food of his Bobby ate. But he understood what it was like to feel embarrassed, so he decided he should give Bobby a break.
About a week later one of the bartenders at the V&E Club was hassling Bobby about his bar tab. After four beers the bartender cut him off and told him to go the hell home. Bobby yelled at him and said he wasn't even drunk. The bartender said he didn't care if he was drunk or not, he wasn't giving him any more damn beer. For an hour Bobby sat there, refusing to leave. He stared down the bartender. The bartender ignored him completely. Didn’t even look at Bobby. Finally muttered “screw this place,” and slid off his stood into his wheelchair. He thought, by acting like he was really leaving, that the bartender might apologize. As he methodically wheeled himself toward the door he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, that he was going over to the bar on 2nd Street, and that and that they'd never see him at the V&E Club again.
The bartender said fine and so Bobby left.
At least that was what he told Russ later that night. According to someone else who saw the whole thing when Bobby threatened to never go back to the V&E Club the bartender yelled back that if Bobby left without paying his money then he'd call the police and have Bobby arrested for driving under the influence.
When the people in the bar heard that, they all started laughing. Technically it was true; a person in a wheelchair could get a DUI for such a thing. But no one, including the bartender really knew that. It just sounded funny as hell. Bobby was always on guard as it was and so when everyone started laughing at him that set him off. He told the bartender to go ahead and call the damn police, to go screw himself, and that he was leaving anyway. As he wheeled himself toward the door Bobby spit on the jukebox. So the bartender called the police.
The police picked Bobby on South L Street, in front of the Bottle Book & Smoke Shop, just a few hundred feet from the V&E Club. He’d just bought a carton of cigarettes. When Russ opened the door Bobby was between two police officers. He shook away from them and limped past Russ in a hurry. He went into his bedroom and slammed the door so hard it broke some of the wood off the doorframe. The police asked Russ if there was a legal guardian of Bobby. Russ told them Bobby had a Mom who lived near Merced, but that she was a little crazy and didn't talk to Bobby much. She just sent money every once in a great while. The police asked Russ if he could pick Bobby up at the bar next time and Russ told them he wasn’t allowed to drive because he sometimes had seizures.
They ended up giving Bobby a moving violation because his chair didn't have the proper light reflectors, but warned Russ that next time they'd arrest him and that Bobby had better stay away from the bar unless he was going to take a taxi or a bus back home. Russ told them the bus didn't come close to their place, but the officer didn't really hear that.
After he shut the door Russ blew some air through his bushy mustache. He wiped the sweat from his face with the hand towel on the fridge. He walked to Bobby's room and knocked.
Bobby didn't answer. "Get into some trouble down at the bar Bobby?" he asked.
No answer.
"You better find a way home or they're gonna take your wheels away Bobby. That’s what they said." He balled the hair on his arm. He was a little nervous, but less than usual.
There was no answer. Russ thought Bobby might have passed out but then he could smell cigarette smoke coming under the door.
"I won't make you cigarettes any more if you drive drunk again Bobby."
No answer.
"Hey, you know, if you go to jail they might suspend your license Bobby." Russ was trying to joke a little, hoping that Bobby might laugh or at least tell him to shut up. Russ didn’t realize it was that kind of joke that had set him off in the first place.
Russ heard a loud thump against the other side of the door. Russ was startled.
"You don't have to break the door," he said, not realizing that Bobby already had.
Russ felt like there wasn't much he could do. He knew things with Bobby and his drinking were going to get worse before they got better. Russ didn't want to tell his mom. She was already talking about Russ moving into another place. The care provider that had started coming once a week said the same thing. Should he live with this Dad? No, not with the evil step mom. Russ decided then that if something was going to change it would have to be Bobby.
But how could he change Bobby? How could he get him to stop drinking? It was then that Russ got an idea. The next time Bobby got drunk Russ was going to take some photos of him. Then, he’d show them to Bobby. It made sense that if Bobby saw how ridiculous he looked, saw what other people had to deal with, that he might stop drinking altogether. On account of his pride.
During the next few days Bobby went to the other bar on 2nd Street, but by the third day he had made good with the bartender at the V&E Club. Russ guessed that when Bobby said they “made up” he meant that Bobby paid his bar tab, since it was around the 5th of February by then. His first day back at the V&E Club Bobby came home very drunk. Russ said something to him but Bobby just walked past him into the bedroom and shut the door. A couple minutes later Russ heard a loud thump that sounded like a body falling on the floor. Russ went to Bobby’s door.
“Bobby?”
There was no answer.
“Bobby? You awake or are you completely drunk and passed out?”
No answer.
Russ went and got the digital camera his father had recently bought him. He got it all ready to go and leaned his head against Bobby’s door.
“Hey Bobby?”
“Hey Bobby, I’m going to open your door and take some photos of you drunk now.”
Bobby was out cold. Russ twisted the doorknob and eased it open. Bobby was sprawled out on the floor, his pants down around his ankles. His had his shirt off, but it was hanging from one arm. Russ stepped in the door and took a picture. Then he decided to try a few different angles. He stepped over Bobby and took another picture.
Russ stopped and looked at the photos he’d just taken. He chuckled to himself and looked around Bobby’s room, to see if there were even better vantage points. He spotted a Hustler magazine in Bobby’s closet. He let out a muzzled laugh. He could hardly contain himself. Russ got the magazine and put the spine in the palm of Bobby’s right hand, carefully closing his fingers around it. He stepped back and took a few shots of that.
By that time he was really laughing. He practically ran into his room, and copied the photos onto his computer.
The next afternoon Russ saw Bobby in the bathroom. Bobby was taking a handful of Russ’s Advil.
“Hey Bobby, you want to see some pictures I took?”
“Not now Russ.”
“You sure? They’re of you.”
“When did you take pictures of me?”
“Last night when you were drunk.”
Bobby looked at Russ with suspicion and disbelief. He asked Russ if he was serious and Russ said yes.
“Show me those,” he said.
When he saw the first photos Bobby laughed a little.
“Damn,” he said, chuckling and putting some toothpaste on his toothbrush.
“Here’s one from a different angle.”
Bobby looked at the photo and then looked at Russ. Bobby nodded, but didn’t smile.
“And another.”
When Bobby saw the photo with the Hustler magazine he dropped his toothbrush into the sink. He looked at Russ angrily. But when he saw Russ wasn’t flinching, he slowly picked his toothbrush out of the sink and started brushing his teeth.
Russ had actually thought Bobby would be angrier. As he stood there and brushed his teeth, he had the feeling that the photos, while mildly embarrassing, hadn’t had their intended affect.
“I should take these down to the bar and show your friends.”
Bobby stopped brushing and looked at Russ to see if he was serious. Finally he said “You better not.”
“I think I should.”
For seemingly the first time Bobby realized how much bigger than he Russ was. He would have liked to have punched Russ right then. He looked down at Russ’s camera. He’d never even seen a digital camera let alone tried to erase photos off one.
Bobby took the toothbrush out of his mouth, pointing it at Russ, “You’d better not show anyone those photos.”
“You’d better not come home drunk and let me take those photos.”
Bobby was worried, but Russ didn’t immediately take the photos to the V&E Club. The next night Bobby came home drunk. So Russ took more photos. He put cigarettes between all of Bobby’s fingers. Put his hat on his butt.
The next day he showed Bobby the fruits of his labor. Feeling a loss of immediate power Bobby tried to laugh with Russ. He chuckled and said “those are good ones,” but also made it clear he didn’t want them to leave the house. Russ told him that if he kept drinking and coming home drunk that he’d show everyone at the V&E Club all the photos. Still, that night Bobby came home drunk. So Russ took more photos.
The cycle continued for a while and finally Russ came into the V&E and told everyone what he’d been up to. They all wanted to see the photos and encouraged Bobby to get drunk. One guy even bought Bobby a beer on the spot. Bobby watched the action from his usual seat at the end of the bar. He didn’t say anything. He just glared at Russ from time to time.
By the time Russ left everyone in the bar was laughing, asking Russ when he could bring the photos in. Bobby watched helplessly and took a sip of his free beer.
As he walked down the street he kept replaying the different people’s reactions to his photos. He couldn’t help but giggle. The guy who’d bought Bobby the beer had simply raised his arms in the air, saying “Yes! Yes! Yes!” again and again, as Russ had flipped through the photos. The manager had just stood behind the bar, shaking his head disapprovingly.
Russ was inspired to take more photos. He went directly to the second-hand shop on 3rd Street. He needed some better props for starters. As he walked around the store he inspected different items, trying to imagine it in a photo with Bobby. There was a heart shaped pillow that said “Loverboy” in pink cursive writing. Russ imagined himself slipping it under Bobby’s head. Then he looked through the dresses. Could he put a dress on Bobby? It seemed possible if he was drunk enough. In the end he decided on a rainbow clown wig and a pair of funny-nose glasses. He paid the $5 and went home.
On his walk back Russ spotted something across the street. It was garbage day, and someone had left a giant stuffed wolf to be taken away. It looked like a prize someone had probably won at a fair. Russ inspected the animal. It was about the same size as Bobby and had a big silly pink tongue sticking out. It was perfect, not too dirty, and it was free. Russ put it under his arm and headed for home.
As he walked home he passed by the apartment complex where he knew a lot of poor people lived. A group of black people sat out front, playing dominos amongst the old beat up cars and toys strewn about the dead grass.
“Hey chubby! Win somethin’ at the fair?”
They all started laughing. Normally Russ would feel some degree of shame, but he was too excited by his creative burst. He laughed along with them, pointing the wolf’s tongue in their direction.
“Ohhhh yeaahhh!” he yelled. They all laughed and waved at each other.
He hid all the props in his closet. He couldn’t wait for Bobby to come home. He started to worry a little that Bobby wouldn’t be drunk enough. His new props would take some careful maneuvering of Bobby’s body. If Bobby wasn’t really drunk he might wake up. Russ then realized that hoping Bobby was drunk was defeating his original purpose, which was to stop Bobby from drinking. But if Bobby was really embarrassed a couple more times that might push him over the edge and make him stop for good.
Bobby came home that night but he wasn’t very drunk. When he walked in the door Russ started laughing and Bobby stopped in his tracks. He stared at Russ.
“You knew I was waiting for you, didn’t you?” Russ said laughing.
Bobby shook his head. “You know Russ, you’re like a big fat hairy ape. You know that?”
Russ stopped laughing. They started at each other until Bobby went into his room and shut the door. But once the door was shut Russ chuckled to himself. He still felt a little high from all the approval he’d gotten down at the bar. He’d clearly gotten under Bobby’s skin. By that point, in the back of his mind was still the hope that Bobby would stop drinking so much. But the excitement of taking and showing the photos had clearly become his focus. Bobby calling him names and threatening him only made Russ more determined to get Bobby good.
The next morning Bobby and Russ didn’t say anything to one another. Bobby left in the early afternoon and he gave Russ a good, long stare. Russ patiently stared back. Somehow, they both knew Bobby would be coming home drunk that night.
The next day Russ went down to the V&E again. When Russ walked in Bobby rolled his eyes. The manager asked Russ where his camera was and a few of the other regulars started to stand up in anticipation of new photos. But once they realized Russ didn’t have any, they more or less lost interest. Russ noticed this and started telling them he had something very special planned if Bobby came home drunk that night. There was a mild amount of interest by the regulars, but not like the day before. When Russ finally left Bobby shook his head and smirked, indicating that he’d Russ had lost the battle.
That day when he walked past the same apartment building the same group was out front playing dominos.
“Hey big fella, where’s your dolly?”
They all laughed, but Russ pretended not to hear them and kept walking. He wasn’t in the mood. When Russ got home he opened his closet and stared at his props. This made him feel better. He giggled, imagining a photo of Bobby and the wolf. Bobby hugging the wolf. The wolf sitting on Bobby’s face. Bobby having sex with the wolf. Bobby wearing the clown wig, the wolf’s butt in his face. He hoped Bobby was getting good and drunk at the V&E. If he marched into the bar the next day with photos of Bobby with the wolf, it would be like a party in there. He half-wished he had a laptop computer so he could do a slideshow, then he could have some music going in the background.
That night Russ kept looking at the door, waiting for Bobby to walk through. As excited as Russ was, he knew the later it got, the drunker Bobby would be. At 10 p.m. Russ went into his bedroom to have a cigarette and check his email. When he heard the door open he almost fell out of his chair. Bobby had returned home.
Bobby didn’t seem to care where Russ was, but he walked directly into the bathroom. Russ wondered if he was drunk. He swiveled around in his chair, still smoking his cigarette. After a few minutes Russ stood up. He put out his cigarette, took a big gulp of cola, and walked into the hallway. Still no sound. He walked toward the bathroom door, quietly, so Bobby wouldn’t hear him. He leaned his head against the door. He wondered if Bobby was drunk at all.
Finally he heard a loud thump and a short and soft groan. Bobby had fallen on the floor.
“Bobby?” Russ said at the door. “You okay? Hey! You okay?”
There was no answer.
Now he was excited. He opened the door and Bobby was on the bathroom floor. His pants were around his ankles and one of his arms covered his from the bright bathroom light. Russ smiled and shook his head. He went and got his camera and props. Before he started shooting he leaned down and called Bobby a couple more times. He even listened to his breath, which was soft and slow.
There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in the bathroom, so Russ decided to drag Bobby into the bedroom. He pulled him by the feet, slowly at first. But once Russ realized he was out cold he quickly dragged him around the corner. The floor was covered in ashtrays, empty cigarette boxes, and beer cans, so he had to sweep those aside before dragging Bobby’s body to the middle of the floor. Bobby stirred a little and mumbled something, but Russ didn’t falter. He was getting the photos and he was getting them that night.
He laid the wolf next to Bobby and stepped back. The stuffed wolf and Bobby were nearly the same size. Russ nodded his head and put Bobby’s right arm over the wolf and nudged it closer. Russ stepped back again. He took Bobby’s hat off and put it on the desk. He slipped the wig onto Bobby’s head and stepped back. He giggled a little and got his camera. Then he had one last idea.
Russ carefully united Bobby’s right shoe and slipped it off. The shoe was worn, of course. He gently lifted Bobby’s foot and pulled his right leg completely out of his pant leg. Then he put Bobby’s leg over the wolf so it looked like he was trying to climb on top of it.
As he stepped back Russ starred at Bobby’s leg. Russ knew he wasn’t the most handsome guy. His front teeth were chipped from falling on cement during one seizure, and he’d grown a bushy walrus-looking mustache to cover it. He had a lot of hair, all over his body. It grew out from under his shirt, and made him even look a little bigger than he was. He was fat, by any estimation of the word. And he’d lost half a finger in an accident as a child.
But there was nothing on his body, as far as he could tell that was as mangled and odd looking as Bobby’s right leg and foot. It wasn’t so much a leg. It looked more like a tail. It was hairy, and twisted in a way that made it look like it could be turned around completely. It looked like a snake that might strike and turn anything it struck into a form similar to itself. But it wasn’t the ugliness of Bobby’s leg that made Russ pause. It was the violence of the leg. Somehow, in Russ’s mind, his bodily malfunctions were cute in comparison. Maybe he had this idea because his mother loved him deeply and accepted him no matter what he did or said. No matter how many seizures he had in the middle of shopping malls. No matter how violent he became in waking from the seizures. It had even broken his parent’s relationship. Neither his mother or father had told him that, but he knew it. But his mother always stayed with him and tried to make him a better person. Bobby on the other hand had no one. He was as lonely as the appendage hanging over the stuffed wolf would indicate. It wasn’t a leg so much as it was a mangled plea for help. As if the small specs of blood coming through Bobby’s sock were an attempt at communication.
Just then Bobby’s leg recoiled and fell off the wolf. Russ watched, not sure what to do. In his deep thinking about Bobby’s leg Russ had lost track of Bobby himself. Bobby’s right hand probed the furry surface of the wolf. His body jerked back. He brought his head back without opening his eyes and his legs started moving independently of each other. His left leg moved in a smooth bicycle motion, his right constricting slightly in midair, like a turtle bringing its head into its shell.
Bobby opened his eyes. “What the…?” He was having trouble saying a word. He opened his eyes fully and saw the gray colored wolf with the bright pink, friendly looking tongue coming at him. He pushed it away, slowly at first, then, regaining fuller consciousness, violently.
Russ took a picture.
“What the heck?!”
Russ started to laugh. He couldn’t stop. Bobby flailed at the stuffed animal with his left foot and punched at it with his right hand. Russ scrambled to turn on his camera. “What the heck Russ?!” Bobby yelled while Russ fumbled with the camera to get a zoom shot. He snapped another photo. “What are you doing to me?” Bobby was still a little drunk and slurred his words. “Stop! Stop it!” Bobby tried to push the wolf away from him. The synthetic sound of a camera taking a photo filled the room again.
“Damn you!” Bobby yelled and looked up. Russ lowered the camera, revealing his bushy mustache. For the first time Bobby could see for himself that Russ’s teeth were chipped.
All Bobby could make out were Russ’s big shoulders, dancing in the light, moving up and down like little pistons attached to a walrus mustache. The pattern was only interrupted by small gasps for air.
Bobby looked at Russ. His stare wasn’t one of hate or even anger. It was one of defeat. As he continued to stare Russ’s giggle slowed and slowed, until it stopped. Bobby continued to stare, loudly breathing out his nostrils.
After feelings of frustration and helplessness Bobby felt had settled, a tinge of envy crept into his mind. He wanted to tell Russ it wasn’t so easy to not drink. That, firstly, drinking made his leg feel better. That usually, his foot felt a little stiff in the morning, but by the evening, after it had been raked and slammed against the concrete so many times, he’d wished he could take a pair of pruning sheers cut it off. That he’d prefer to not have a foot at all than to be saddled with such a useless one. That no matter how much he tried to stay in his wheelchair to avoid walking on his foot, even taking two steps forward hurt like crazy. That he’d taken so much Advil and anything else he could get his hands on for so long that it hardly even worked anymore, and made him feel like he had holes in his stomach. In addition to that, he envied Russ. Envied Russ! The 350 lb. guy running around with the gallon of cola attached to his hand. The guy with the sunglasses and broom looking mustache who sometimes starts flapping like a fish out of water in the middle of the street. His own life was so ridiculous that he envied Russ. At least Russ has people around him. At least his mother uses her mouth to call and talk to her son instead using it to suck on a meth pipe. At least he didn’t see his Daddy beat his mom as long as he knew him before he walked out of his life forever. And even though his mom didn’t blame Bobby for that all the time, she did at least part of the time. Especially when she was calling him screaming and crying, coming down from whatever drugs she’d been taking. Sure, she sent him money once in a while. But it was money from his trust account that she cashed out a year ago because she had the power to do so. That his granddad had started a trust account in 1974, the year he was born, scheduled to mature in 2004 so Bobby could help pay for a wedding. A wedding! You have to touch a woman to get married don’t you? He was supposed to get $50,000 in 2004. But his mom cashed it out last summer and got $10,000 About 5% of which she had passed on to him. The rest has been paying for her D.U.I.s, her drug rehabilitation program, and her drugs once she finished the rehab. Bobby wanted to tell Russ that his Dad calls him once a year for about 20 minutes and that his new wife doesn’t even like to hear stories involving his slut ex-wife, which, unfortunately for Bobby, means he’s out of the picture. That as much as he hates him he’d give anything to go visit the Dad he hasn’t seen in 10 years. That most of the time he spends on the web when Russ is in the other room watching TV, he’s looking for a friend. He’s looking for a friend. Sure, maybe a girlfriend, that’d be okay, but mostly just looking for a friend. Why? The reason is obvious, because when people meet Bobby they don’t want to be his friend. Because they see him and his oval shaped skinny head that looks gigantic on his tiny withered frame, and they think he’s a mutant. They don’t want to hear what comes from his mouth, and that’s just when they see him IN his wheelchair. When he gets up and walks the amazement really begins and they pretend they don’t see him even though they curiously watch his every move from the corner of their eye. Even if he smiles at them they look away. Or worse, they don’t look away. They look at him with shock, with half expectant looks on their faces like he might break into some kind of trick, or, moreover, that he might fall down. Ask him how it feels to wheel down the street, wanting, in anger, to see to see if someone is staring at him so he can snarl at them, but not wanting to look just the same. Starting a new life pattern and not looking at people at all, only to reach out and plead the next. Always trying to start a new life. Every day, every hour, every beer, every cigarette trying to start a new life.
Bobby let his head go back to the floor.
“You don’t want to, do you Bobby? You don’t want to stop drinking!”
Bobby was silent.
“You need to quit it Bobby. I’m going into the bar tomorrow and showing those people the photos I took. And I’m going to tell them there’ll probably be more on the way.”
Russ walked out of Bobby’s room and into his. He even slammed the door, figuring that might drive the point home to Bobby a little better. He sat down at his chair, turned on his computer and rolled a cigarette.
Bobby stayed on the floor for 10 minutes. Finally, he crawled into bed, and turned out his light. He hardly ever prayed. He believed in God, but he rarely thought much about it other than when he was in a really difficult situation with money. But as he lay in bed he looked up at his ceiling and started to pray to God. But it was difficult to know what to ask for, or what to say at all. Besides he was still pretty drunk and dizzy. So he just stared at the ceiling, thinking about God, until he passed out again.
Russ woke up the next morning to the sound of construction just outside his room. He sat up and cracked his back twice before walking to his window. Some workers were breaking ground in the parking lot just over the fence. They were tearing the old building down.
The building wasn’t important to Russ. It was a 1970 building with a bunch of doctor’s offices in it. The problem was it meant they would be tearing and building something right next to Russ’s window. He looked at his clock. It said 8:01 a.m.
Russ walked to the bathroom. Bobby’s door was open, which surprised him. He glanced in on his way into the bathroom, but he couldn’t see Bobby. Russ went to the bathroom and made small circles with his hips as he peed and recalled the night before. He giggled a little. He’d finally told Bobby how he felt. Even put him in his place. Russ told him to stop drinking, and Bobby had nothing to say. He just sat there and stared at Russ. Hopefully he’d gotten the message. That it was time to give up the booze and start helping out around the house. Start paying his bills on time and being responsible.
Russ flushed the toilet and walked into the hallway. He looked more closely into Bobby’s room. He was gone. That was a new one, Russ thought. Usually he’s not even awake until 11 or 12. Russ leaned into Bobby’s room. The wolf was still there, lying on its side, facing away from Bobby’s bed.
The construction was enough of a reason for Russ to finally carry out the fan project he’d picked up from one of the home repair shows he liked. Russ had bought a couple of large fans at Wal-mart that he’d planned to mount above the couch to cool him off instead of using the air conditioner, which got pretty expensive. He’d unplugged the air conditioner a couple weeks before and told Bobby not to use it because it was too expensive. But several times Russ had woken up on summer mornings freezing cold because Bobby had come home late drunk and flipped on the air conditioner so it’d cool a few degrees during the five minutes before he’d go to bed. So Russ finally disconnected it.
As he fastened the first fan to the ceiling thoughts of the night before drifted in and out Russ’s mind. The fan was going above the TV, so it would point directly at him. The stunning image of Bobby’s leg appeared several times. But mostly he thought about the photos and the reception he would get at the V&E Club when he showed them to everyone.
Once he’d finished with the first fan he ate lunch and looked at them again. It wasn’t his best work. He thought it would have been better had Bobby not woken up. Although the look of resignation on Bobby’s face was terrific, especially with the wolf lying next to him. It looked playful, but also dead. Russ looked at the pictures in sequence, in the back of his mind imagining everyone at the bar laughing at each one. When he came back to the photo with the wolf Russ starred again. Russ put the camera down and resumed installing his fans.
He started installing the second fan. That one he put at an angle, right over what was technically the front door, though they never used it because it was easier to come in through the garage. He aimed the fan at the couch. When Russ finished shortly before 4 p.m. he turned the fans on and sat down. It was like a wind tunnel. He could barely hear anything outside. He turned on the TV. Usually he turned the volume to 7, but with the fans on there was no way he could hear it at less than 32. Russ laid back and enjoyed the fruits of his labor. He went right to sleep.
When he woke up about an hour later he could barely breathe. His mouth was dry and the roar of the fans startled him. He quickly got up and out of the wind tunnel. He peered in Bobby’s room. It was still empty. He shook his head and became a little angry. It was true that the fan fare his photos generated had overtaken his original motive; which was to stop Bobby from drinking. But that had come back into focus now, and it made him a little angry at Bobby. Bobby hadn’t been humiliated enough, he thought.
He imagined a drum roll in his head, the kind they play in military movies. It was time to go to war, Russ thought. He filled up his mug with a 2 liter of cola. He strapped his camera into a carrying case belt he’d bought at Costco a few weeks before. He switched off his fans and walked out the door, headed for the V&E Club.
Why doesn’t he just stop drinking? Russ had quit smoking once for a few months. It wasn’t that hard. You’d think if something like that was obviously ruining your life that you’d give it up. He shook his head. Bobby would have to learn the hardway.
Russ went down Second Street for a change of pace. The closer it got to 5 p.m. the more cars would start lining up on First Street and he’d had enough noise for one day. Besides, he didn’t want to walk by the domino players. In a way Second Street was a hidden oasis that led to downtown just as easily. There were lots of trees and more shade to hide under. It reminded him a little of living in the suburbs of Redding when his mom and dad were still together. In this case, it might help him calm down so he’d make all the right moves once he got to the bar.
As he approached M Street he heard a siren. It was getting closer and closer to him, so close that he started looking around. The ambulance streaked past him and turned left onto First Street, where the siren cut off.
Russ automatically changed course. He wanted to see what had happened. He figured he could continue on First Street. As he walked faster to see what was happening he heard a woman shouting hysterically. The woman was doubled over, looking down into her hands and looking in the direction of a crosswalk. A car, which Russ could assume was hers, was just on the other side of the crosswalk, its driver’s side door open.
Russ walked a little faster. He wanted to run, but running was hard on his ankles. It was more of a race walk. Instinctively, he put his hand on his camera, so it wouldn’t fall off. Several paramedics were rushing around. They’d brought a stretcher out but had left it alone, tending to the person on the ground. Russ started to get an uneasy feeling that the victim could have easily been him. He walked through the same crosswalk nearly every day, and would have again today if not for his determination and focus in getting Bobby. Something like nervousness, coupled with excitement and even lust, numbed him as he realized it was neither he, nor his family, nor a near stranger that had been hit by a car. That it was Bobby.
He knew it was Bobby because he saw his wheelchair on its side, the lower half of the wheel smashed under itself. Russ scanned the area, but all he could see was a group of people in white uniforms and an empty stretcher next to them. The crying woman was now hyperventilating, only stopping to scream: “I killed him!” An old man who lived on M Street, that Russ recognized as a greeter from Wal-mart, tried to calm her down. “It wasn’t your fault. It could have happened to anyone.” A few of the dominoes players had gathered around too, their mouths wide open.
Russ started to run toward the crowd. One of the paramedics spotted Russ and automatically screamed at him “Get back big guy! Get back!” He headed Russ off, blocking him by putting his hands up near Russ’s neck. Russ threw his head back and went into a seizure. As his mind started to flutter he took one last glance toward the ground where he could make out the back of Bobby’s head, a small trickle of blood coming from under it.
Russ regained consciousness in the back of an ambulance. He had a tube in his mouth. The ambulance wasn’t driving all that fast and there were no sirens on. At one point they got stuck in traffic.
He asked where Bobby was. A small woman, speaking in a Russian accent told Russ that Bobby was at the hospital. He waited for her to give him more information. Is he dead? Is his skull cracked? Does he have a scrape on his arm? What? He wanted to say these things and his face indicated as much. But he had a tube in his mouth and was feeling groggy as it was so he just stared into space.
He tried to sit up when they got to the hospital but the woman pushed Russ back down using the same technique as the paramedic had. “We called your mother and she’s on her way,” the Russian woman said.
As they wheeled him into the hospital Russ looked around for Bobby. He saw no signs. He became agitated and started to sit up again. He was wheeled into a dark room and was told they had to do some X-rays on him and to not move.
“X-rays? I had a seizure. I have them all the time.”
They weren’t very interesting in listening to him. Russ looked around the room. There wasn’t much to see. A sliver of light was coming through the door, which reflected off the several metal tables. At one point an old woman was pushed past his room in a wheelchair. After several minutes the same Russian nurse came in and gave Russ a shot in the arm. He immediately fell asleep.
When he woke up the lights were on and his mom was sitting next to him. The look on her face told him she wasn’t worried about him, but that something bad had happened.
“Mom why are they taking x-rays of me if I just had a seizure?” She looked at Russ and shook her head. Clearly the x-rays weren’t what she was concerned about.
“They didn’t do X-rays Russ. I explained to them you have seizures before they took them.”
“How’s Bobby?”
“Bobby is hurt pretty badly,” she started, choosing her words carefully. “The doctor said he has a broken collarbone, a broken arm and that his right foot was crushed so badly they…might have to take it off.”
Russ thought about Bobby’s foot. He wondered how badly his foot would have to have been hurt for the doctors to want to amputate it. Even though he was still groggy from the seizure and whatever kind of injection they’d given him, a clear picture of Bobby’s foot entered his mind. The off-white sock and the small specks of blood coming through. It gave him chills.
But as he thought of the sock he stared at his mom. He could tell she was hesitating. That she was holding something back. So he starred at her until she looked the other way.
“And?” he said.
She looked at him and with some hesitation, told him that the doctor was pretty sure that Bobby been trying to commit suicide. That the driver of the car had clearly seen Bobby, and had hesitated before making sure he wasn’t headed into the crosswalk. When she sped up to go through the intersection, Bobby had rolled into the street. Right in front of her car.
A couple hours later he checked out of the hospital, but was allowed to see Bobby. When he walked in Bobby was asleep. Most of Bobby’s body was under a sheet. He looked like a child mummy, except for the egg-shaped head that poked out. It too was wrapped with a bandage. Some blood soaked through the bandage, which reminded Russ of Bobby’s sock, which in turn made him feel guilty. Bobby opened his eyes when Russ walked in.
“How’s it going?” Russ said in monotone.
Bobby stared at him for a minute. He looked around the room.
Bobby didn’t look angry. He looked tired and small.
“Is your mom here?” Bobby said.
“No.”
There was another pause and Bobby looked around the room again.
“Where is she?”
“She went to get some food. Some tacos.”
Bobby nodded his head and looked at the Pfizer clock on the wall. He breathed out through his nose. “You hear what happened?”
Russ nodded. “Yeah, I got there right after you got hit.”
“The doctor told me that. They said you had one of those seizures.”
“Yep,” Russ became aware they sounded like two old men sitting on a porch, “Right there. I was on my way to the V&E because I figured you were there.”
Bobby closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He winced a little in pain. Bobby opened his eyes and looked at Russ.
“Hey Russ?”
“Yes, Bobby.”
“Please kill me.”
They stared at each other. It took a lot to startle Russ. His medication made him fairly unemotional. But he hadn’t expected Bobby to ask him to kill him, and his eyes suddenly widened in a way that Bobby had never seen. So wide that Bobby was worried he was having another seizure.
Russ said “Huh?” as a defense, but he’d known very well what Bobby had said. He even, as a reflex, for a moment, considered what he’d have to do to fulfill the request.
“Russ. I want you to kill me. I don’t want to live anymore. I don’t want to be here.”
Russ swallowed. He looked at Bobby. A nurse leaned in the door way, checked something on a clipboard, smiled a big fake smile in the direction of Bobby and Russ.
“Hi,” she sang out.
“Hi,” they said in unison, each smiling a little.
She walked out and they stared at each other again.
“See that dial there Russ,” Bobby started, throwing his eyes in the direction of a small beige box. “That controls some kind of pain medicine. I think its morphine. When they turn it up it makes me feel light and I can’t feel nothing.”
Russ looked at the dial. He’d seen a similar dial when his grandfather had died two years before in the same hospital.
“I want you to turn that switch all the way up. And then I want you to sit here and wait until I’m asleep. And until your mom comes back I want you to pretend you’re talking to me. When your mom comes back, tell her I fell asleep and to not wake me up. Just eat your food in here.”
For a while all Russ could think about was the idea of him talking to a dead or dying body until his mother came back. Bobby, getting sleepy, slipping into a coma and eventually dying, as Russ sat by his side. He didn’t even know what he’d talk to Bobby about. The girls he met on the Internet?
Bobby was hopeful that Russ would do it and he stared at him, as if to will him to do it. But after he’d thought about what he’d say to Bobby, as he lay there dying, he started to think the whole idea seemed a little unlikely. What if a doctor came in to check on Bobby? How would he explain the dial being turned up? Bobby couldn’t even do that himself, he was strapped to the bed. The more he thought about it the more the idea seemed really stupid.
He started to shake his head, “I could get arrested for murder if I do that Bobby. That’s a totally stupid idea.”
Bobby looked at Russ, then at the dial. It was a stupid idea. But it was exactly the kind of idea he’d come up with, he thought. He was stupid. Stupid people have stupid ideas. He sighed out his nose and looked around the room. He wished his soul could crawl out of his body just then. Like in a cartoon, when a ghost steps out of a body. He wouldn’t mind being a ghost. Drifting from place to place. It wouldn’t be heaven, but it wouldn’t be where he was now.
Bobby closed his eyes. If he could just stop his heart. It was just part of the whole thing. Just part of his body. Not such a big part either. Not that different from if the doctor took his foot off. Not that different from if he shaved his mustache off. Or getting a haircut. If he could just still his own heart. If Russ wouldn’t do it he’d do it. He’d put his mind to it and do it. Do it right then, right there, in front of Russ.
Bobby closed his eyes and concentrated on his heart. He pictured it in his body, beating faintly. As he relaxed he could feel it pulsing slowly. He concentrated on it stopping. Slowing, slowing. It reminded him the yoga TV show he’d seen once. He imagined a woman’s voice. Slowing, slowing. Bobby took more and more shallow breaths. Slowing, slowing. It was working. He tried to imagine his dead body sitting there, dead in front of Russ. Screw Russ, he thought. He didn’t need his help. He just needed his mind. He imagined his heart inside, slowing. The blood flow becoming calm. He told his mind that he’d had enough of life, that it was time to die. To slow his heart down until it was just a slight beat, and then it would stop for good.
Just then Russ’s mother walked into the room. “Is he asleep?” she said, trying to be quiet. The bag of tacos rustled as she put them on a table.
Bobby snapped opened his eyes. His heart jumped. He was still alive. He hadn’t succeeded in stopping his heart. He looked around the room. A feeling of helplessness took over Bobby. Sometimes, he felt, no matter how hard he tried to stop it, that life would go on eternally. That life was an eternal hell. Even when he had tried his hardest to stop it, it continued and continued. He wondered if it would ever end. He felt like it never would.
It was at that moment that Bobby started to feel a little better.
posted by AT @ 5:36 PM
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