The Fight Within (11 page)

“F
ifty fuckin’ Shades
of Grey…” Sean mumbled as he glared at his small television mounted on the wall of his bedroom. The author of the popular book series, E.L. James, was being interviewed. “If I pulled out some handcuffs on a chick, she’d call the goddamn police!” He huffed and shuffled under his crumpled sheets, getting comfortable while successfully navigating past the lumpy dip in the middle of his Queen-sized mattress. Three hours earlier, he’d fallen asleep after finishing a shitload of homework, most of which, he could no longer recall, even if some insane professor drew a gun on him, demanding to be told. His world became a gray blur, with pops of color every now and again. Laughter with a dash of cynicism became his medicine, anything to not feel the truth, the weight of the matter on his shoulders. Shaking himself out of his own thoughts before they buried him, he turned to his left, taking note of his messy nightstand covered in half empty ink pens, balled up pieces of paper, and a coffee cup that had been there twenty-four hours too long.

I gotta clean this place up…

As he turned back around and glanced lazily up at the television, he heard his computer beep. He set his lethargic sights upon it, sighed, and pulled the damn thing close, propping it onto his lap like a hospital tray filled with all the unseasoned, bland food one could imagine.

“Who do we have tonight?” he mumbled as he typed into the dating site window, prepared to take notice of a pop-up featuring the latest and greatest shallow eye-candy this side of the Hudson River. On this particular website, instead of taking down his profile completely, he’d simply removed all of his photos and put the damn thing on hiatus. Matter of fact, he’d done that with all of the dating sites he visited over the past few days. He’d meant what he said to his mother. There was simply no time to date, and though he didn’t feed the monster of jaded thoughts very often, he was sick of women and their superficiality, silly problems and mind-fuckery ways. Regardless, he’d been kidding himself. A part of him longed for conversation with the opposite sex, he was torn. He wanted the window to be left open a tiny crack, as a precaution…a ‘just in case.’

Every now and again, someone would still come fishing around despite his boring profile, devoid of the images of him riding his friend’s motorcycle, flexing a damn muscle he’d worked hard to obtain, and other silly crap to reel in the ladies, get a little cha-cha, make plans for a horizontal joyride. No, that profile was as bare as a baby’s newborn ass. There wasn’t even a damn headshot. They got nothing from ol’ Sean, and that’s
exactly
how he liked it. He simply watched his porn, jerked off every now and again, and went about his merry fucking way.

Feeling the stark silence around him, he clicked on his saved musical collection on his computer, and played, ‘Money’, by Pink Floyd.

Yeah, that’s good…help me wake up a bit…

Despite his ‘fuck the world’ attitude regarding dating and blank wall profile, some lady was knocking at his proverbial, computerized door. He stared at the screen, coming face to face with the generic outline of a female. No photo, no nothing…just like himself. All she offered was a location of: New York. He waited, and then, words flew across his screen, inviting him in for a chat.

Hello FINDERKEEPER…this is Sapphire Storm.

Hesitating for a moment, he debated on even engaging in banter with the woman…or man. Who the fuck really knew? There could be a hairy ass Sasquatch wearing a tiny red sombrero trimmed with golden tassels on the other end. The beast could be relaxing in a hammock in the Cayman Islands holding a ukulele to serenade himself with a damn love song in Portuguese. You never knew with this sort of thing. He shrugged and brought the laptop a wee bit closer… Sasquatches weren’t so bad…

Hello Sapphire Storm.

I’ve never done this before,
she wrote, causing him to lift his brow in confusion.

Done what before?
–FINDERKEEPER

Been on a dating website.
–Sapphire Storm

Well, you aren’t missing much.
–FINDERKEEPER

He yawned, glanced up at the television, and then back down at his computer.

You don’t sound very enthused.
–Sapphire Storm

I’m not.
–FINDERKEEPER

Oh…
–Sapphire Storm

Look, don’t want to waste your time. I’m taking a break from dating right now.
–FINDERKEEPER

He prepared himself to say his goodbyes and send the little shy thing on her way…

Oh, thank God! That’s perfect, actually. That’s why your profile appealed to me. There’s nothing on it. LOL. I just want someone to talk to. It’s been a rough time. Not interested in dating anymore because it never works out. Just want to vent to a stranger…that sounds crazy doesn’t it?
–Sapphire Storm

Sean looked at the screen and fought the urge to type, ‘
Who fucking cares? Go to bed’
, and shut the damn thing down. But then, he remembered what Kyle said…

Maybe this one time, he could be like his
old
self, before the thief of time and joy came and stole his life, made him scarf down every second of the day for his damn self, afraid to share, afraid he’d be derailed and lose something that was invisible, but oh so precious. That’s what time was after all…something everyone needed, but never had enough of. He was a second, minute and hour hoarder. He’d been driven by the freshly hatched fear that he may not reach his goals and complete all the tasks he desired to fulfill. Maybe this one time, he could
give
without
getting
a damn thing in return…so, he stayed online, and wrote back…

Yes, but not really. No, it doesn’t sound crazy. I mean, I’ve heard weirder things
–FINDERKEEPER

I’m really laughing right now.
–Sapphire Storm

Good. Laughter is always good.
–FINDERKEEPER

It is. I have to laugh at some of this stuff now. I had a bad date. Tired of bad dates.
–Sapphire Storm

What happened?
–FINDERKEEPER

Sean sat up a bit higher, his interest piqued ever so slightly.

The guy poked my stomach.
–Sapphire Storm

He poked you? Like sexually, or like on Facebook?
–FINDERKEEPER

He couldn’t help but smirk…

No. He literally poked me. He poked my stomach with his finger, like I was the Pillsbury Dough Boy. He said he wanted to make sure I wasn’t sucking my gut in or waist training.
–Sapphire Storm

LOL. That’s pretty messed up. Some people are fucking insane.
–FINDERKEEPER

Yeah…
–Sapphire Storm

So how did you respond to that?
–FINDERKEEPER

I told him not to do it again. Well, I was a bit more colorful than that in my response, but that is what I essentially said.
–Sapphire Storm

And then he made you squeal and put you in the oven on 365 degrees, right?
–FINDERKEEPER

You are hilarious.
–Sapphire Storm

Why thank you, I’ll be here all night. I take cashiers cheeks, money orders, penny candy and credit cards.
–FINDERKEEPER

I hope so, because I’m actually feeling depressed right now. Maybe I can send you some funds over PayPal. :)
–Sapphire Storm

You are really bummed out, huh? Is it all because of the date, or something else?
–FINDERKEEPER

He shook his head at the exchange.
How in the hell did I get roped into this? Just my luck…some depressed soul sucker has found me online and decided to hitch her teardrop covered wagon to my evening…but what sickens me the most is I actually want to hear her answer.

…or perhaps he was losing his mind.

Just everything. Things aren’t going right.
–Sapphire Storm

You know what?
–FINDERKEEPER

What?
–Sapphire Storm

When you’re having a bad day, remember that each day, no matter how messed up it is, will get you that much closer to your goals.
–FINDERKEEPER

Did you read that off of a bathroom wall or some 99 cents ‘Good Vibes’ booklet?
–Sapphire Storm

No. A street performer said it, then asked me for a dollar.
–FINDERKEEPER

Did you pay it?
–Sapphire Storm

I told him if I gave him a dollar, it would only help him toward his goal, not mine, and since he was my personal guru, he should know that I needed the dollar more than him.
–FINDERKEEPER

And what did this ‘personal guru’ say?
–Sapphire Storm

He picked up his buckets and paintbrushes he was using for sticks to beat out some bomb ass beats, told me to fuck off and left.
–FINDERKEEPER

NO WAY! You’re making this up.
–Sapphire Storm

Yes I am, but you laughed and feel better, so that’s all that matters…
–FINDERKEEPER

You’re right. Thank you…
–Sapphire Storm

You’re welcome.
–FINDERKEEPER

They were quiet for a moment or two, neither of them typing. Sean hated to admit it, but he rather enjoyed chatting with Sapphire. She got his sense of humor and encouraged his lunacy. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

Well, goodnight, FINDERKEEPER. Thanks for the laughs. Unfortunately I have to get up early tomorrow. Maybe I will be on tomorrow night. If I am, can I ring you?
–Sapphire Storm

Ring me? This REALLY IS new to you, isn’t it?
–FINDERKEEPER

Yeah, that’s true. What term should I use?
–FINDERKEEPER

Don’t worry about a term. If you see me on, or want to chat with me and I’m available, I just may let you into my exclusive club. But there is a membership fee.
–FINDERKEEPER

Ha-ha. Ok. Thank you, but what is it? It may be too rich for my blood.
–Sapphire Storm

One poke in the tummy.
–FINDERKEEPER

LOL. You’re evil.
–Sapphire Storm

I try to be, but usually fall short. :) Goodnight Sapphire Storm.
–FINDERKEEPER

Goodnight FINDERKEEPER, you’ve been a real sweetheart…

*

The storm clouds
had gathered and huddled over his damn head. Sean clung to the back of the garbage truck, hoping they didn’t decide to open their cottony mouths and have a go at him. He hated working on rainy days; it was the fucking worst. It made the stench of the loud, steel truck all the more pungent, and working in soaked clothing was an added drawback he’d much rather evade. Here he was back in Hoity-Toity-Ville, where the rich got richer, and the grass got greener, and the land of reality became more distant. As they made their way up Lyons Place, he saw a woman standing on the curb…in her damn robe. She’d crossed her arms so tightly, it looked as if she may squeeze the very life out of herself, and she sported an unmistakable scowl across her face. Oh yes, she was ready…her game face was on, and she wanted a piece of his ass on a damn platter.

Oh shit…here we go.

He drew a bit closer, picked up her neighbor’s trash, and avoided eye contact. Besides, he needed time to practice his lines inside the alcoves and nooks of his witty mind, dig out his best material. The rich woman no doubt wanted a showdown, and due to his lack of quality sleep the night before, he was ready to unleash his frustrations upon her. As they drew closer, he couldn’t help but notice how the slight breeze not only swirled the stench around, but also moved her robe a bit from her long, shapely leg, revealing a smooth, tawny brown limb for his eyes to take all in.

Look at her damn legs. Pure perfection…

He saw Roy take a gander too; the bastard had glued his eyes to the broad, getting a bird’s eye view through his side mirror. They pulled up a bit closer, and Roy tipped his hat, pretending to be a damn gentleman. The woman offered him a stiff smile, then shot a heated death glare at Sean as he jumped off the truck in his typical happy-go-lucky way.

…And she’s pretty as fuck, too…

“Are you the same person that left my trash here last week?”

No greeting, no wave, no ‘How tha fuck do ya cock a doodle do?!’

“That foothill of broken wine glasses, hypothermic needles and splintered wood? Yup.” He took hold of her lone dark green plastic bin and tossed it into the mouth of the ironclad monster beside him, rotating his shoulder blades just so. This was getting good to him, and they’d only just begun.