Chapter 3

After a while of kicking myself, I felt I had truly reached an existential breakthrough of incredible proportions. Besides that my butt was numb. I crushed out the cigarette into the dirty saucer on the endtable and reached for another one. The pack was empty, which, combined with my unresponsive posterior, meant it was time to do something.

I grunted and groaned my way to my feet, with my ass tingling as I rubbed it. I couldn't believe she had left, and at the same time couldn't believe it had taken her so long. I had treated her like absolute crap, knowing she would stick around until the payday. I knew that she needed me to be her husband, because she was destined to inherit that million. I had forgotten the cardinal rule, though.

Whoever or whatever made this happen to me had a sense of humor. I could never see anything about my future. I didn't know anything that was going to happen to me, same as any other Joe (or Lenny) on the street. Even in the futures I saw for other people, anything that was related to me wasn't visible. If I came face-to-face with a man who had a gun and was about to shoot me, his story would probably be something like cashing an obscenely large check at a bank in Pawtucket. If I had been thinking (or, that chipper internal voice chirped, less of a drunk) I would have realized that I couldn't have seen the inheritance if it had been related to me.

I needed a drink, some cigarettes, and a shower... in that order.

I shuffled to the kitchen and noted with some satisfaction that she hadn't taken the booze or the butts when she left. She always was the decent sort, I mused as I checked the cigarette box carefully for signs of tampering. Decent or not, I didn't need to be smoking something covered in chili powder again. I perused our liquor cabinet, considering each of the fine vintages available and trying to decide on the perfect taste to match my mood. I passed up the Apple Cider, the Red Kool Aid and the Diet Pepsi to pull out a small bottle of the finest whisky available to people living on disability in the projects.

Three fingers (OK, the rest of the plastic bottle) worth of cheap whiskey, and two cigarettes later, I decided I might be able to handle a shower. Cold water or no, I needed one, and the cold water might help to clear my head. More likely it would just make my skin blue, but what the hell. I ambled my body down the hall, noticing with some interest both the things she had left behind and the things she had taken. The picture of her mother was still hanging in the hall, which made me snicker a bit. She had taken my velvet Jesus, though... now that was just mean.

I went into the master bathroom and remembered that there were no more towels. Damn. A thought hit me then, and I headed back up the hallway for Janice's bathroom. What the hell, she didn't care any more. I stepped into her bathroom and the cloying scent of lilacs hit me. The whole room looked like someone had set a firecracker under a bottle of Pepto Bismol as a method of decoration. The carpet under my feet was like walking through wet grass, it was so thick, and the shower curtain had two life-size flamingos strutting around a field of pink roses. Lovely.

I stripped down and threw my clothes into the corner, setting the cigarettes carefully on the sink's edge. I leaned in and turned the hot water faucet, figuring that maybe I'd get lucky and get a little bit of hot water. A torrent of icy water flowed out and over my arm, which I jerked back out as if I had been snakebitten. Damn that was cold. Was this really worth it? I glanced at the flamingos, who were eyeing me with their beady little soulless eyes. I couldn't back out now. They'd never let me live it down.

I leapt into the bathtub and scrubbed my whole body as fast as I could with my eyes clenched shut. I was most of the way done lathering my hair when something occurred to me and my eyes popped open. Oh no.

I rinsed as fast as I could and turned off the water. I fumbled around for the towel hanging outside the door with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I wrapped the towel around my waist so that Mike and Ike (my flamingo friends) didn't see anything they weren't supposed to, then jumped out and headed for the mirror. I looked closely at my wide-eyed expression as I reached my hand up and pinched a piece of my hair between two fingers. I slowly pulled and watched, fascinated, as the piece of hair came free between my fingers.

You know... putting hair removal gel in your wife's shampoo is all fun and games until someone loses an eye... or a head full of hair, as it were. Well, you know... besides the person who was supposed to. You know what? Just skip it.

I emerged from the house later that afternoon, balder than a cue ball. I had caught myself before all of my hair had fallen out, but all that was left was enough to make me look like some sort of reject from a freakshow. So I shaved the rest of the damn stuff off, noting my almost blue scalp underneath. Just ducky. I gave some thought to never leaving the house again, but unfortunately my grand plans to put a bar, a blackjack table, and a stripper pole in my bedroom had hit a few snags.

I hitched my collar up closer to my face, hoping nobody I knew would see me, before I remembered that the amount of people who knew me were few and far between, and most of those I wouldn't want to recognize me. Cheerful thought, but true nonetheless.

I wasn't sure where I was going exactly, but I wanted to get the hell out of the house. Surprisingly enough, the house was almost as miserable now as it was when she had been there. All this time, I thought she was the evil spirit of the place, but unless she had left some of her ectoplasm in a jar on the mantle, it was something else. Whatever the reason, the place was suffocating me, and I needed to do something.

I had made sure to grab a key off the rack before I left, and as I slipped it into my pocket I felt the chips from the other night... day... session. Whatever. I figured the casino was as good a place as any and started that way, walking the old familiar trail. I suppose I missed her, but it wasn't really anything about her, exactly. My life was ordered and routine, and I liked it that way. Change happened, as I knew better than most, but it was never fun or pleasant. She was a decent sort, as humans go, and our relationship, laughable as it had been, was at least comfortable.