Time & Space (Short Fiction Collection Vol. 2) (11 page)

I can’t go on like this. I can’t pretend things are just miraculously going to get better. They won’t. Not ever. I have to die today.

Too disgusted to look himself in the eye any longer, Simon slumped toward the small drab bathroom at the end of the hallway. On his way, he walked past his apartment door, not even glancing down at the growing pile of unread mail and newspapers he was forced to step across. As soon as he entered the bathroom, his eyes were drawn to the little glass shelf screwed to the wall above the toilet. On the shelf his unfolded straight razor waited, smiling at him. It was a thin, gleaming edged smile which seemed to say,
Here I am, Simon… I’ve been waiting for you, my friend.
Simon smiled back; not even aware that he was doing it. With shaking fingers he gently, almost reverently, picked the razor up.

“You’re my ticket out of this scum hole. A couple well placed slices and
whammo
, I’m out of here!”

It felt right to him. Simon could run himself a nice hot bubble bath, climb in to tenderize for a while, then slit both his chubby wrists. Ending things that way seemed almost pleasant. The pain and gore would be kept to a bare minimum and he could just numbly drift out of this rotten world in the warm crimson water. In some ways it was a better death than he felt he deserved but he was far too cowardly of a man to risk anything decidedly nastier.

Simon whistled while the tub filled, happy that he’d finally decided to end his miserable existence. The world would be a far better place without him around to stink it up. The bathtub was half full before Simon realized what song it was that he was whistling. It was an old favorite of his father’s, some big band version of “
Some Enchanted Evening
” he’d often whistled along with as he battered his wife and son before, during, and after his many drunken rampages. Simon stopped whistling immediately, shamed into silence by the painful memories flooding into his mind. God how he had hated that psychotic bastard!

It had been Simon’s father who started him on this downward spiral toward oblivion. His childhood had been a dark, twisted labyrinth of physical and mental abuse, neglect, loneliness, misery, pain, and constant fear. His mother had loved him as best she could. She’d been just as abused and afraid of his father as Simon had been, in fact probably more. Both his parents had been killed in an apartment fire when Simon was only fourteen years old. In many ways, it had been the best thing that ever happened to him and Simon had always considered it a blessing.

For a few more years things had improved in young Simon’s life but not very much. He ended up dropping out of school at sixteen, moving from one dead end job to the next, then quickly falling into a life of crime. It was petty stuff at first; stealing food and cigarettes, picking pockets, breaking and entering, and the odd joyride in a borrowed car.

Petty or not, the judge had sentenced him to two years less a day in the Pen for one of those stolen cars. His first jail sentence soon led to another, and then another, as the road down the strait and narrow became increasingly more difficult to travel. Eventually, Simon had fucked up enough to be given hard time – twelve to fifteen years in maximum security. He’d been thirty-two years old and sunk just about as low as he could possibly go. He’d suffered through some nasty bouts of depression and despair in the next ten years before finally giving up and trying to commit suicide for the very first time. He’d tried to hang himself inside his cell with a bed sheet but the material was too stretchy and all he succeeded in doing was giving himself a mild case of whiplash. There were a few more half-assed attempts at killing himself but Simon’s heart wasn’t completely into it and he always messed up and failed.

During the psychological counseling that followed, Simon had met the one person who could have possibly straightened his life out forever. Her name was Samantha, the social worker assigned to his case, and she was the most beautiful woman Simon has ever seen. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for him. From their very first meeting, Simon knew that he was in love with her. To his astonishment, Samantha started to show signs of affection for him as well. Not right away, of course. It took time and patience but that was okay, Simon had nothing
but
time on his hands.

A few more years rolled by and their relationship seemed to grow stronger. Simon eventually built up the nerve to ask her if he could come see her when his probation was finally granted. Samantha had said, “Sure, I’d love that,” and Simon had counted down the days until he was a free man again.

He’d rushed out to buy a brand new suit, some long-stemmed red roses, and a big box of chocolates. A bit old fashioned and lame perhaps but Simon hadn’t known any better. By the time he’d rushed over to the address she had given him his heart was ready to explode right out of his chest he was so excited. Samantha was home, in bed with another woman. It turned out that the other woman was Samantha’s longtime girlfriend and they’d lived happily together for over eight years. The entire time Simon had been dreaming about her falling in love with him, Samantha had been a lesbian and had only ever considered Simon to be a good friend.

From that point on, depression and self-loathing had kicked Simon around for a while until he’d woken up this morning knowing that today was his last day on earth. The bathtub was full now so Simon shut off the taps, climbed into the hot water’s steamy embrace, and lay the straight razor down on his ample belly while he soaked for a few minutes. He came close to dozing off, the warm water lulling him toward the brink of sleep but he shook himself awake before dropping off the edge.

“That’s enough laying around, mister,” he chided himself. “Time to get this over with.”

The razor felt pretty good wrapped in his pudgy hand. It felt clean. Pure.
Righteous
even! In one of those rare moments of perfect crystal clear consciousness Simon knew without a doubt that what he was about to do was the right thing. The
only
thing. Without wanting to wait any longer, he brought the razor over to his left wrist and tried to gauge where best to make his cut. His years in prison had taught him you didn’t slice from thumb to pinky like you always see in the movies, but instead you had to cut length ways, from hand to elbow. Would one slice be enough, though? Two? There was only one way to find out so Simon closed his eyes and prepared to dig in.

That’s strange
, he thought.
Why did I just close my eyes? What am I scared of seeing? I want to die…right? And I’m more than ready to check out of this world…right? So what’s the problem?

Regrets…the answer immediately came to him. Regrets were the problem. The truth of the matter was that Simon really
did
want to die today but he was sad because there were so many things he’d promised himself along the way but for the lack of time or money  had never gotten around to. And now he never would.

Or maybe…

An idea blazed across Simon’s depressed mind, leaving behind fiery footprints in its wake. He sat up in the tub and craned forward to look down the hall at the pendulum clock on the living room wall, its metal arms pointing to 8:17 a.m.

“It’s still early…
really
early. What if I was to get up and do some of these things I’m regretting? I could spend the day fulfilling promises to myself and then by tonight I’d have no more regrets left and I’d be able to die happily. No regrets, man!”

It seemed brilliant. He’d denied himself his entire life up until now so why not live it up today. One special day just for him. If he was finally going to get off this crazy planet, why not celebrate properly – go out with a bang!

Simon excitedly jumped out of the tub and ran to the old desk in the corner of his bedroom, trailing water and soap bubbles with him the whole way. He found a thick pad of writing paper beside the dust-covered telephone and a red fountain pen inside the middle desk drawer.

“I’ll make a list,
that’s
what I’ll do, A list of all the things I want to do today. Doesn’t have to be earth-shattering things…just a bunch of
stuff
that I’ve always wanted to try.”

Soaking wet and still butt naked he sat down on the edge of the bed and started writing. Twenty minutes of soul searching later, Simon was finished with his list.

There!
he thought.
Now all I have to do is figure out how long each of these things are probably going to take, then make out some sort of a schedule that’ll get me back in the tub with the razor before midnight.

That part of the plan was essential. Simon hated his life and this list wasn’t some excuse to let him off the hook and chicken out. It also wasn’t some last ditch effort to try enjoying life more either – no way. Simon wanted to die and he wanted to die today. He promised himself he’d finish the list and be back in the tub by midnight. 100% for sure. By 9:25 a.m., time-scheduled and prioritized list prepared, as well as a bag of supplies in hand, Simon was kicking the growing stack of letters and newspapers aside and running out his front door to get this show on the road.

The first few things on his list were simple. A new coffee and bagel shop had opened on his corner about five months ago and Simon had still never managed to find the time or energy to check them out. He happily munched down on a fresh from the oven poppy seed bagel with an inch thick layer of cream cheese, and slurped down two cups of extra strong black java – just the way he loved it. His taxi cab arrived on time (he’d called for it from the coffee shop before sitting down to breakfast) and he had the driver just drive him around the city anywhere the cabby wanted. It was a silly request to add to his list but Simon had always hated how everyone in the world always seemed to be in such a tremendous hurry to get everywhere. He’s always secretly wanted to just get inside a cab and relax, to wander aimlessly around town without a care in the world where they were going. The cab driver, an older Irish man with a thick shock of white hair and equally bushy eyebrows kept looking at him like he was crazy, clearly used to people running the great democratic rat race but a fare was a fare so he drove on in silence, content to do as he’d been instructed.

In the backseat, Simon took out his list and scratched off the top two lines:

**BAGEL BREAKFAST**

**CAB RIDE TO NOWHERE**

He smiled and put his list away again. For the next twenty minutes; the exact amount of time he’d allotted for the cab ride, Simon enjoyed the old cabby’s confused looks as he pondered which random turns to make. When the time was up Simon tapped the driver on the shoulder and instructed him to head for the park.

Feeding the Robins and Pigeons in the park was the next item on his list and it was a task he relished thoroughly. He’d always thought birds were wonderful creatures, so graceful and beautiful; things that he himself had never been. He’d brought along a dozen slices of stale white bread from home in his little supply bag and spent the next hour sitting on a wooden bench immersed in the wonders of nature.

“This is fabulous!” Simon shouted with glee, startling several of the gathered birds.

For so long he’d caged himself inside his apartment, hiding from the world he hated and only venturing outside when he absolutely had to. He couldn’t believe he’d never come to the park and enjoyed himself like this before now. It felt so good to throw caution to the wind and finally let loose for a change.

Throwing caution to the wind was exactly what Simon wanted to do next on his list too. He was planning to have lunch at an authentic Mexican restaurant. He’d always loved spicy foods of all types but Mexican was by far his favorite. Trouble was, he’d had a bad bout of stomach ulcers five years ago and since then he’d been forced to deny himself this small pleasure. Not anymore! Today Simon ordered several of the spiciest dishes he could find on the menu, washing the delicious food down with not one, but two icy cervezas.

“To hell with my ulcers,” Simon muttered, grinning like a school boy as he stroked off two more lines from his precious list:

** FEED THE BIRDS **

** SPICY MEXICAN LUNCH **

Feeling better than he had in ages, and still with a little time on his hands, Simon ordered and enjoyed a third cold beer from the bar. Normally he’d never drink this much; especially not this early in the day, but what the hell – today was a special day. Simon’s day.

Quarter after one in the afternoon arrived and it was time for him to go into a store and steal something. He’d thought long and hard about whether to put this item on his list or not. He hadn’t stolen anything since his latest release from prison years ago but after a great deal of internal debate he’d put it on the list simply to prove to himself that he still had the guts and the judicial system hadn’t beaten him down the way it thought it had.

The Gap
was the name of the clothing store Simon eventually entered. It was a busy place with loud music blaring out of large speakers built right into the walls. The young sales staff bopped along with the beat, looking bored out of their minds.

Easy pickings…
Simon thought, nonchalantly wandering the store while simultaneously keeping an eye on the employees and checking out the merchandise.

Ten minutes later, Simon had himself a nice new navy blue sweatshirt, which was going to come in handy since the afternoon breeze was really picking up and the temperature was steadily dropping. It looked like the rest of the world was in for a long, cold night.

At the nearest bus stop Simon used the glass wall of the shelter to strike off another item on his list:

** STEAL SOMETHING NICE **

Simon folded the paper and put it away in his pocket just as the B-15 bus pulled to a stop right on schedule. Climbing aboard he tipped the driver a dollar and took a seat near the middle of the bus, pleased with the way his day was turning out. The bus was old and noisy but Simon wasn’t planning on riding it all the way into the heart of the city. In fact, it only took him another three minutes to fulfill the next item on his list. A tall, bearded man stepped off the bus at the next stop minus his wallet, which was now snuggled deep in Simon’s front pocket.