crumbs

         Crumbs fell to the floor. He had had enough. More than enough. But Lizzy never had the heart to shut him off. Crumbs wasn’t terribly good at the drinking. While most people could get a good buzz and enjoy the ride; Crumbs never landed in the happy zone. He went from 0 to 60 in a shot glass. Bad liver. No filter.
         “Come on mate,” JimmyJohn grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him back onto the stool.
         “Shit man, just leave me here, can’t get up,” Crumbs mumbled.
         “Can’t leave a man down.”
         Lizzy rolled her eyes, thinking that she had seen this scene before. How many times can you pick Crumbs off the floor? Apparently he didn’t get bored with all this. Lizzy was.
         She was terminally bored.
Of life.
Of Crumbs.
No shit. This isn’t what it is supposed to be. This isn’t what you see on tv. Everyone seems to be having a good time. Love stories, success stories, happily ever afters.
         JimmyJohn was still trying to coax Crumbs into his seat.
         “Why don’t you just take him home to sleep it off? I can’t give him any more and he’s just going to fall off again.”
         “Have a heart Lizzy – he just wants to be with his friends tonight.”
         “Fine. Do you want another?”
         “Are you going to join me?”
         “I’ll have a drink with you – but I don’t think I’ll join you.”
         “Harsh. Set me down easier next time. Line up some Danny boys. I’m feeling Irish. I’d like to feel an Irishwoman.”
         How many times had Lizzy heard his lame pick up line? Did he really think that it would work? Like she would lean over the bar and say “sure, feel this Irishwoman.” Well why not? What the hell else did she have going on? It has been forever.
         “Here JimmyJohn, feel this Irishwoman,” Lizzy smirked as she put her tits within arms length of his glass chilled hands.
         “Uh. Um. Okay...” He groped uneasily, unsure if she meant it.
         “Well that wasn’t very fulfilling. Next time don’t ask if you don’t mean it.”
         “Sorry, I just didn’t really think you would ever, I mean, you’ve never, I mean. Shit Lizzy, give me another go.”
         Just then the rest of the regulars showed up. Every Thursday it was the same thing, same guys getting out of the “adult” movie theater. Same shit.
         Crumbs mumbled something.
         “Sorry love, what was that?”
         “Baffroom.”
         “JimmyJohn – help him. The man can’t get himself off the stool and if he makes a mess – you’re cleaning it.”
         By the time the boys returned, Lizzy was too busy to spend any more time with them. The crowd got bigger, she got louder and started throwing bottles in the air. The men loved it. If only they paid with money instead of compliments. Damn hard to pay the bills with a “hey where’d you learn that one?” or a “what a great set on her.” It was old. The whole routine. The same guys, the same bar, same view. Lizzy was tired. And old. Oldest 26 year old out there. There was nothing left and yet she had hardly lived. What kept her there? Why could she think big thoughts and yet never move, her feet stuck to the spilled booze on the floor. She longed for change. Something. Anything.
         “Hey Lizzard – need some Danny boy here. I’m a little dry. What’s a man got to do to get some service around here?”
         “How about that magical word that your momma should have taught you?”
         “You mean now?”
         “Only boys with manners get to touch the fun bags Jimminy.”
         “Sorry Lizzard – you know I love you.”
         “I know. Take Crumbs home and I’ll get you another.”

         She never got the chance. He never came back. JimmyJohn was gone. Crumbs was gone. She would never get over it.

         When she woke up to the sound of the rabbits next door banging on the headboard, Lizzy felt a little rot gut. Should’ve stopped at 3 shots. Follow your own rules and you won’t feel like shit in the morning. She shuffled into the bathroom; privately chastising herself for causing this discomfort. How many times does a person say that it is the last time they will ever...? Why does the long term memory bank close its doors to such thoughts?
         As she scrubbed the black half moons from below her eyes, Lizzy thought about the day ahead. She had to open the bar so there was only a little time to lounge around on the couch. “I should just go get something to eat instead of laying on the damn couch all morning,” she said to her image. It said nothing back.
         After a few minutes grinding away at the detritus on her face, Lizzy grabbed her phone and a ten and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and flip-flops. She knew it would be one of those days. The nearest place for breakfast had been shut down for health code violations just a week ago – it made her feel sick just looking at the door. How often had she cured her hangover eating eggs & toast there? No matter.
         Flapjack’s was a little greasier, but it should do the trick. There were a few people in the booths and just one old guy at the counter. She chose a seat at the far end of the counter; she had no desire to make small talk today. The waitress looked like she was new. Not new as in young; rather new as in did not know where the basic items needed for breakfast service were located. Lizzy again thought to herself that it was not a sign of good things to come.
         “What can I do you for hunny?” Flo chomped loudly on a very large gob of pink bubblegum, obviously unaware that she had been a star of a really bad tv show years ago.
         “Eggs & toast, over hard, bacon crispy and some black coffee please.”
         “Sure hunny. You look like you had a long night.”
         “No longer than any other.”
         Lizzy hoped that she would just be left alone. She chided herself for not bringing something to put in the next seat to keep at least a small amount of space all to herself. As she was stacking the jelly cups into a little pyramid, she realized too late that one of the patrons from the bar had walked in and was just about to sit was by the old man when he spotted her looking his way.
         “Hey bartender – didn’t know that you were awake before noon.” He said as he changed direction mid-step and walked over to where she was seated.
         Lizzy roamed her foggy brain for a name. “Yeah. Usually I just sleep in, but I was rudely awakened this morning. Figured I’d get something to eat before I have to go in.”
         “Great, I’ll join you. If you don’t mind.”
         “Sounds good.” Lizzy lied.
         “So I was sorry to hear about your friends. They were good guys, so young.”
         She suddenly remembered his name, Chester. She had been trying so hard to come up with his name that the last statement didn’t fully register. “Sorry Chester. Who is so young?”
         “Those boys that always hang out at the far end of the bar. Yeah, I was sorry to hear. You seem to be holding up okay.”
         “Sorry, I’m not following...”
         By the look on Lizzy’s face, Chester could see that he just stepped in a big pile of something.”
         “Jesus, Lizzy. I’m so sorry. You haven’t heard.”
         “Heard what?”
         “The boys...your friends...they never saw it coming.”
         “What?”
         Chester’s mind was groping. What words do you use to tell someone? Is it possible to soften the blow or is it better to just get it over with? How come he had to say anything – it was obvious she had no idea.
         “They died...it was an accident...the car...”
         “Here you go hunny – eggs & toast & bacon. Do you need a warm up?”
         Lizzy forgot why this old woman was talking to her. She felt the back of the seat give way and realized on the way down that it was a stool she was just sitting on. She found herself on the floor. She looked up at the bottom of the stool and realized what Crumbs saw on a nightly basis. Crumbs. JimmyJohn.
         “Did she hit her head?”
         “No...I don’t think so...let’s help her up. Come on hun, let us help you. What did you say to this poor girl?”
         “Come on Lizzy, I’ll walk you home.”
         
         She blacked out the next few hours. When she walked into the bar, she realized she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t walk behind the bar. It was her fault. Their mothers would blame her. The guys at the bar would blame her. And she blamed herself. She walked out the front door. She’d never come back.


         “Pump 4.”
         “Is that it?”
         “Yeah...no...a pack of Camels.”
         “Thirty six ninety seven.”
         “How much farther to Devil’s Tower?”
         “Not sure, just moved here.”

         Lizzy cracked the window open. “Don’t fall asleep” she said to no one in particular. She was tired of moving, but couldn’t stop. The faster she drove, the less her thoughts could keep up. She kept the needle pinned, hoping to outrun that image of JimmyJohn after she let him get a quick touch. She tried to outrace Crumbs last word. She had no real destination, but Devil’s Tower seemed like a nice sounding place to go howl at the skies.
         She picked up the lighter. She flicked it open, closed, open, closed. How many times she had done that for the boys at the bar. How she hated the smoke in her hair, on her clothes, the way it permeated everything. And here she was, smoking. No matter.
         Open, closed, open, closed. Windows up, windows down. Passing one, two, three cars at a time. Staying in the wrong lane for miles. Waiting until the last minute to get out of the way. She stopped for gas and smokes. Lizzy found herself hungry after she had long passed the turnoff for Devil’s Tower. She had made it to the coast without realizing it. She parked near the water. What time was it? The sun was coming up. She climbed out of the car and suddenly realized how bad her body ached. What town is this?
         As she stepped on the bumper and onto the toasty warm hood Lizzy realized she had not packed any clothes for this trip. In fact, all she had was her cash from the bar and all the junk that had accumulated in the backseat since the last time she cleaned it out. It should be enough for now. It would have to be. She couldn’t bring herself to go back, not yet. Lizzy slept there on the warmth of the hood, and no dreams came to her.
         “Hey – you okay? Hey.”
         Where the hell am I? Lizzy looked into the face of the man invading her personal space. His head blocked the sun entirely; as he backed up, she squinted into the midday sun.
         “Where am I?”
         “Newport.”
         “Where’s that?”
         “Just outside Corvallis.”
         “And that is where?”
         “Are you okay? Do you know what state you’re in?”
         “No. I mean...yes I’m okay. No I don’t know what state I’m in. Other than west of Wyoming.”          
         “Well, northwest actually - Oregon. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”
         As Lizzy sat up she thought about what she must look like. She still wore the flip-flops and sweats she had worn for breakfast how many hours, days ago. And now that she thought of it, she probably had remnants of mascara under her baggy eyes. She must be a sight.
         “Did you hear me? Can I take you somewhere? Where are you headed?”
         “Umm. Don’t know. I wasn’t really going anywhere.”
         “Just ended up here, huh? Well, are you hungry?”
         Lizzy thought about it. She didn’t feel hungry, just tired.
         “I could use some coffee. Is there someplace to get some?”
         “I make a mean cup of joe.”
         “I guess I meant a restaurant or gas station or something...” her voice trailed off.
         “Where are you staying?”
         Lizzy wasn’t listening anymore. Tears leapt from her eyes. She shook. She was silent. The man climbed atop the car and wrapped his arms around her. He felt warm, she felt safe. She fell asleep again.
         



Where did she come from? What would make her cry so hard and with such abandon? I should wake her.
         “Hey. Come on. Can I take you somewhere?”
         “I have nowhere to go. I killed my friends and I can’t go home.”
         Ben had known it was too good to be true. Pretty girl, there for the taking, had to be something very, very wrong. “What do you mean?”
         “I mean, I killed them. They were just kids.”
         “Who? What do you mean? I’m still not following you.”
         Lizzy could feel herself about to lose it.  If she said their names...oh it only took the thought...”Jimmy & Charlie...we used to...I used to be...” Lizzy’s words trailed off into an imperceptible whimper.
         He held her tighter. He had never met someone so burdened, so obviously in need of letting something out. She was stunning, with blue eyes that seemed to be frozen water, even more striking against the deep red of her swollen eyelids. He couldn’t look away. She seemed so lost.
         “Why don’t we go somewhere warm, get you some coffee. My house is just down the beach. You don’t have to talk. I’ll just keep you company.”
         Lizzy looked at him. She hadn’t really looked at him yet. He wasn’t handsome. Not ugly, just not much of a looker. But his arms felt so good, his voice soothing. She was tired. The kind of tired that never wants to wake up.
         “Sure.”

They walked in silence. It was a short walk to a small cottage on the water. She saw a lighthouse a short distance away, but saw no other buildings. What if this guy was some kind of psycho? So what. She felt out of control of her life and was too tired to care.
         The house was warm, spare and manly. Wood furniture, dark browns, heavy upholstery, all old. She sat on the edge of an overstuffed couch, sinking in. He wrapped a heavy wool blanket around her, tucked her in and drew her in close to his chest.
         Lizzy woke the next morning, still wrapped in the blanket and this stranger’s arms. She looked up at him as he slept. He was drooling. She could feel him poking her in her side. He was older, maybe late thirties. She could feel the strength of his arms, even limp around her body. She looked around the room for hints of who he was, what his story was. There was nothing. No pictures, no papers, and no sports gear usually visible in a bachelor pad. Why had he stopped?
         “Hey. You’re awake. Hope I wasn’t snoring.”
         “No. Drooling a little.”
         “Oh. Thanks.”
         “Sure.”
         “Hungry? Still tired?”
         “Yes and no.”
         “How about eggs & pancakes?”
         “Thanks.”
         Over eggs & pancakes they looked at one another, but didn’t speak. Ben could sense that she just needed someplace safe to be. Lizzy was grateful for the company and the solitude.

         “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
         “Not at all. Towels are in the first closet there and bathroom is on the right. I’ll find you something to put on.”
         “I never got your name.”
         “Do you need it?”
         “No, I guess not.”
         “Hot water only lasts a little while.”

When she was done, Lizzy found a pile of clothes next to the sink. They were women’s clothes, far more conservative than her own taste, but they fit well enough. She left the bathroom, hair still damp and barefoot.
         “Does someone else live here?”
         “Not anymore.”
         “Oh. Did she leave?”
         “Yes.”
         “Sorry.”
         “She died.”
         Lizzy looked down at the shirt and pants of the dead woman.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Lizzy slipped her flip-flops on her feet and walked toward the window facing the water.
         “I think I should go now.”
         “Okay.”
         “Thanks.”
Lizzy walked into the bright rays of the coastal sun. The beach was quiet, no people, no birds, nothing. She felt nothing. Her body moved but there was no purpose to it. Lizzy thought about how long she had felt empty. She had felt like this for such a long time. She wanted desperately to feel alive or to just be dead. She turned back and walked to the house. She opened the door to see him smiling at her.
         “I hoped I would see you again.”
         Lizzy kicked her flip-flops in a corner and looked at this man. She unbuttoned the dead woman’s shirt and let it fall to the floor. The man looked in her eyes, searching for what she wanted. She unbuttoned the dead woman’s pants and slipped them off. She stood there, a few feet from this man. He looked into her eyes. She looked into his.
         Ben could not believe what he was seeing. He didn’t take his eyes off of hers, but it was clear that she wore nothing. No clothes, no expression. But her eyes told him everything. She was desperate to feel alive. He was too.
         He walked to her and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to give you all that you need.” He reached down and picked her up. He brought her to the couch again, wrapped her in the blanket and his arms again, laid them down, and held her tight. She barely blinked. She looked into his eyes. He could see her soul. She was desperately tired. She slept.
         In the morning, she woke to a whisper, “What else do you need?”
         Lizzy’s lips could not move, but in a glance her eyes told him. He stood, removed his clothes and climbed back under the blanket. He slid into her as she held his gaze. A small sigh escaped her lips, but there was no other noise. She began to move into him as he pushed onto her. She began to feel again, her legs trembled and she felt a rush as he put his hands on her thighs, widening her for him to be as far into her body as he could. Their eyes never left each others. They were thinking and feeling the same. He gave her what she needed and she offered herself for the taking. As she blinked, he released deep inside her.
         They lay for a long time. Ben looked at her, and she at him. He wondered if she understood what he meant about his wife’s death. After all, she had confessed to him.


Lizzy woke to a silence that confused her. Unaccustomed to quiet, she was worried. What happened? She heard a light breathing and looked up to see a sleeping man that she was apparently sleeping on top of. Where the hell am I? She knew she had never been here before.

Ben woke to see that it was not a dream. There really was a remarkably attractive woman sprawled across him & his couch. He resisted all his temptations. She was too pretty. He wanted to keep her. Deep line down her spine, wide hips, creamy thighs. She was too pretty.

Lizzy rolled off the edge of the bed, both feet landing flat on the floor. She scanned the floor for the clothes. She found them and dressed silently. Ben watched from under the blankets. She walked over to where her flip flops were silently waiting for her return. As she slipped into them and walked to the door, she realized she couldn’t make a silent exit. She wore the wrong shoes.

Her car seemed very far away. Sand overtook her feet and she slogged along. Her mind was slow to catch up. It felt good to not think. She knew it would hurt if she let her mind catch up. Maybe she should just keep running. Not go back. Not that she could go back there. Just put one foot in front of the other.