My Best Friend's Bucket List: Volume One Page 6

CHAPTER 6

  Funereal For A Friend

  (Lorrie's Breakdown)

  I chalked everything up to the way it felt the first time I ever masturbated. That was life in a nut shell(no pun intended). Everything you felt in life could be compared to the first time you ever came(orgasm, not arrived some where). For some people the experience was awkward. For some it was scary. For most I'm sure it was scary, awkward, and erotic.

  With any luck many of us enjoyed that first fresh squeeze of our groins and enjoyed every fluid that seeped due to orgasm.

  If at this point you wonder where I am going with this, I am sorry to report that after all these years it is still hard for me to actually acknowledge Dick's untimely death. He makes it the hardest to forget. That may be confusing now, but by the end of this chapter it will make complete sense.

  I stood over Dick's body. He laid in a black casket with red crushed velvet interior. He wore a pale black suit(if black could be pale), maybe it was just his skin. Dick looked to be literally drained of life, which he was, I felt insane looking down at him.

  The whole thing seemed staged.

  In the past days my anxiety attacks were back and in full motion. I hadn't had a real anxiety attack in years. But they just popped up again. The tightness in the chest, vomiting, cold sweats no matter the weather. The lack of sleep didn't help.

  I hadn't slept since Dick's death. It was more of a killing. The booze helped sometimes. Lorrie did not help. All she did was cry until she either puked or dry heaved. Then she would go all catatonic on me, just stare blankly at the wall, it was as if she could see beyond the wall.

  On the night before the funereal I had convinced her to have a few drinks with me. We ended up drunk on the floor, we held each other and wept in each others arms. Then she tried to kiss me.

  I wasn't ready for that. And my rejection got me three days of silent treatment. That's right, she even stopped crying. But I was not about to live some Ben Affleck-Josh Hartnett film where my dead best friend's girl falls for me.

  I told myself she was just grieving.

  The story goes like this. Dick was delivering pizza's for Johnny Basil. It was his last delivery of the night and his life. 3 teenagers were smoking weed laced with angel dust. They didn't know it at the time. One of the boys was a paranoid schizophrenic off his medication. The angel dust did not help this.

  The boy went into a full blown psychosis.

  Dick rang the door bell, the 3 boys panicked, the two were hallucinating and hid in the closet. The one experiencing psychosis grabbed a butcher knife. He answered the door and proceeded to stab Dick multiple times in the stomach and throat. He left my best friend bleeding to death on the porch.

  Dick died from his wounds on the way to the hospital.

  At the funereal the day was so still. I remember it being the quietest day I ever have from memory. No breeze. No wind. Just plain stillness. It was a cold Spring day. Clouds and all. Dick's funereal was 4 days prior to my 28th birthday.

  Sloppy Deb, Lorrie's mom, handed out complimentary snacks once the casket was lowered. Besides me and Lorrie and Sloppy Deb, others in attendance included Nico and Lorenzo Saucony, Johnny Basil, the twins Jack and Jeff Davis. I half expected to see Cynthia Garcia, but was glad not to. She was never close with Dick anyway.

  “Mr. Tucker.” Jack approached and said.

  “Mr. Sawyer.” Jeff said, he stood next to his brother.

  “Thank you for coming.” I said.

  “We're sorry for the loss of Mr. Pickett.” Jack said.

  “Sorry for Dick's demise.” Jeff said.

  The twins were dressed in black t-shirts, blazers, trousers, shoes shiny, all black. Their hair pulled into tight ponytails. Per usual they were pale as ghosts. They didn't see much natural light. For some reason that fact made their appearance that much more special to me.

  “This week your Pitch Black beverage is on the house.” Jack said.

  “Free is your Mountain Dew this week, Mr. Sawyer.” Jeff said.

  “Thank you guys. Dick would be happy to know that you came.” I said. They nodded and walked off.

  The next person to approach was Nico Saucony. He stared at a broken Lorrie Lovitt for a beat before he spoke. Lorrie had clung to my arm through the whole thing. Now her face was mashed into the shoulder of my blazer. She held on tight.

  “Heya, Tuck. I'm so damn sorry about this whole thing. I don't...I can't stress enough how bad I feel, how I'm gonna take this to my own grave.” Nico was fighting tears.

  “You didn't do anything wrong, Nico.” I said. The night Dick was stabbed, he was covering Nico's shift, so that Nico wouldn't miss out on a date with a stripper.

  “I'm still very sorry.” Nico said. He walked away, tears running down his face. Next to pay his respects was Johnny Basil himself.

  “I apologize on behalf of my business and pizza for any distress it may has caused you, Tuck.” Johnny said, after he shook my hand.

  Johnny Basil was over 6 foot 3, pushing 3 hundred pounds, a perfect combination of fat and muscle. He wore t-shirts that were too tight and black jeans. That day he'd thrown on a blazer.

  “I appreciate it, Johnny. I know you're not to blame for this. No one in your family is. Dick thought highly of you and your family. He was proud to deliver for you.” I said. I felt Lorrie start crying into my shoulder again.

  “You're welcome to my place anytime. Pies on the house.” Johnny said.

  “Thank you, Johnny.” I said. He left the grave site.

  I wrapped my arms around Lorrie and held her tight. She her warmth made me feel better. But there was that empty place in my chest.

  Dick was dead, everyone was sorry, I had places to get free things. Nothing would bring him back. It was something I was going to have to accept, like the billions of humans before me that had lost people they love. Sloppy Deb approached me and Lorrie.

  “I should get her home.” Deb said to me.

  “Yeah.” I looked down at Lorrie. “Hey, it's time to go.” Lorrie looked up at me, then her mom.

  “I'm gonna go home with Tuck.” Lorrie said. Deb looked at me, concern for her daughter in her eyes.

  “I'll take care of her. I promise.” I said.

  “Call if you two need anything. I'll be over immediately.”

  “Thanks, mom.” Lorrie hugged her mother tight. It made me miss my mom. I wondered what she was up to in Orange County.

  I put Lorrie to bed, in Dick's old bed, after a glass of Jack on the rocks. Before she fell asleep she looked me deep into my eyes. Her chest nut brown eyes pierced me. I looked away. She said, “Thank you, Tuck. I'm sorry I miss Dick so much. I hope it doesn't hurt you.”

  I replied with, “I don't know what you mean. I miss Dick too. Sleep now, angel.”

  That was the first time I ever called her 'angel' out loud. She actually smiled. The smile split my heart in two. Sitting by her side, the angel slept, I needed to finish off the Jack Daniels and do some work on the computer.

  I had taken vacation days at work for my leaving town experiment. That meant time off to track down mom and tell her of Dick's death and maybe seek out some comfort. I hadn't seen my mother since age eleven. She was a bit of a train wreck, but still sweet, from what I remembered.

  According to Google, Tabitha York-Sawyer(mom)lived in an apartment complex, near Balboa Island. I wondered how she could afford that kind of location. Then I remembered how much of a hustler mom could be.

  The next day I checked on a sleeping Lorrie Lovitt. I had a breakfast of toast and Jack on the rocks. With directions to my mom's apartment written down on line paper, I considered the options. Lorrie needed looking after, she was in the middle of a breakdown, but who could I trust outside of Dick or myself?

  “Sloppy Deb.” Dick said.

  “Oh, yeah. She said to call if we need anything.” I said. Then my body went rigid. I was terrified to turn to my left, Dick had spoken from beyond the grave and he was sitting next to me, I thought. With all
my might, I forced a look to the left.

  Dick sat on the previously empty stool at our bar counter.

  “Hey.” I said.

  “Hey, dude.” He said. His throat had puncture wounds. The belly of his shirt was soaked in blood. He wore his pizza delivery outfit.

  “I'm officially fuckin' nuts, right?” I asked him.

  “Either that or you're imagining me to help you through some trauma. Maybe later, after you have fulfilled some purpose, maybe I'll disappear, dude.” Dead Dick said.

  “So you're not really here?”

  “I guess not, man. Make me disappear.” He said. I blinked hard, he disappeared. The stool now empty, drink in front of me still full, the kitchen empty.

  I downed my drink and I figured to be on a one way track to the looney bin.

  By the time Lorrie woke up my bags were packed and breakfast was close to being done. The toaster beeped and spit up two blueberry Pop-Tarts. I loved the sprinkles on the blueberry ones. It made breakfast so much happier. The bowl was full of Lucky Charms. Breakfast was ready for Lorrie.

  Oh, yeah, I can't cook.

  And I grocery shop like an 8 year old with a car and credit card.

  DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does not recommend refusing to learn how to cook based on the bias that whatever woman you marry will prepare and cook every meal ever for you. This is not the idea of every woman, despite the fact that modern women have a problem being subservient to men. Any complaints on these issues can be forwarded to Shane Grey.

  I didn't have a plan as Lorrie sat down at the counter. She looked at me and smiled lazily, sleepily.

  “Thanks.” She said.

  “No problem. How are you this morning?” I asked timidly.

  “Okay. Where's the Jack Daniels? Why are you drinking coffee?” She asked.

  “I made you some green tea. Maybe we cut back a little, just in the mornings, you know for health purposes.” I said, weakly. I didn't believe it myself.

  “FUCK THAT.” Lorrie tore apart the cupboards behind me, then the innocent cabinets. “Where'd you put it, Tuck?”

  “Yeah, Tuck, where is it? Mr. Hypocrite?” The voice belonged to Dick Pickett. He sat on Lorrie's stool. Still messy and bloody.

  I looked at Lorrie, she was scowling, I pointed to her stool. She looked.

  “What the FUCK are you pointing at?” Was her response. Dick laughed and blood spurted from his gut.

  “Just eat your breakfast and don't cuss at me, it's not lady like.” I said. Lorrie put her head down and began crying.

  “I'm sorry. I shouldn't take shit out on you. I mean, stuff. You've been a true best friend through all of this.” Lorrie hugged me. Dick winked, put a thumbs up, then disappeared.

  I did an epic eye roll. My life was falling to fucking pieces. I was seeing my dead best friend. Something had to give. No one could take this much tragedy and mental anguish. Did this scenario end with a sniper rifle and a deserted book depository?(that's right, I went there).

  Lorrie went to sit back down to eat her breakfast, she almost tripped over my duffel bag, the look on her face I could not describe.

  “YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!” She cried out.

  “No, no, no. I'm just going to see my mom. It's nothing. I'll be back late tonight.”

  “Why ARE YOU TAKING A BAG THEN?”

  “It's just in case I need to spend the night. Trust me, I know what I'm doing and it's vital to take an over night bag in case.” I said. The door bell rang.

  “Who is that?” She asked, livid.

  “Sloppy Deb. She's gonna watch after you. I can't leave you alone. I would be too worried.”

  “Fuckin' great.” Lorrie sat at the counter and picked at her Pop-Tart. She reminded me of a little girl, my heart fluttered, she was adorable. Spoiled, but adorable.

  I opened the door. Sloppy Deb came in, looking rather spiffy and mother-like. She wasn't wearing her normal jeans, vest, construction boots. Instead of being mommy and daddy like usual, that day she was just mommy. She wore flats with a floral pattern dress, no trucker cap like usual, make-up and hair done up.

  “Hello, Tuck, where's my little girl?” Deb said.

  “She's having breakfast at the counter.” I said. Deb took off toward Lorrie. I closed the front door, Dick was leaning on the wall behind it.

  “So, you gonna seriously see your mom, dude? After all these years?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “It's just that you're family is a train wreck, dude. How could your mother possibly help you get over my death?”

  “I will never get over your death, man. You were my fucking brother. There will be no getting over anything. You will be remembered.”

  “Thanks, dude.” He paused a beat. “Remember the time we met those twins at the bar? They both wanted to fuck me, but I convinced the hot one to convince the uglier one to fuck you, because you were all emo and shit?”

  “I had always thought the uglier one just wanted to be with me.”

  “That could've been the case. Remember, dude, you are the one controlling me. I'm not really here, I'm fucking dead.” Dick said.

  “I know, man. But I still miss you more than you will ever know.” I said.

  Dick disappeared.

  The Jack Daniels I had hidden from Lorrie, by drinking it, was wearing off. Sipping a real cup of coffee, Deb stroked Lorrie's hair as she ate her cereal, I watched the two in amazement.

  Was it possible that some parents loved their children that much?

  Lorrie Lovitt and Sloppy Deb Lovitt walked me to the door. We stood awkwardly for a minute. Then Deb gave me a kiss on the cheek. She wished me good luck, then left me and Lorrie alone.

  “Please hurry back and be fuckin' careful, Tucker Sawyer. I can't lose you too.” Her eyes teared up. I brought a single finger to her eye and stroked the tear away.

  “Don't waste those on the idea that I may not come back. I'm just going to Orange County and because no one REALLY loves me, I'll be back in one piece.” I said, smiled big.

  “Sometimes you can be a real idiot.” Lorrie said, then she hugged me, her mouth against my right ear. “I love you, you idiot.” She whispered.

  My body froze. I went into shock mode. Those words on those lips. She must've meant as friends. I felt a panic attack coming on.

  I broke the hug. Opened the door.

  “Hey, wait.” Lorrie said. I paused with my back to her.

  “Huh?”

  “There was something I found, it's for you, I wanted to wait until you got back...” She trailed off.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I found it at the bottom of Dick's sock drawer. It's a sealed manila envelope addressed to you.”

  “I don't know what it could be.”

  “Here.” Lorrie produced the envelope from what seemed like out of nowhere. I took it.

  “Thanks. I'll read it when I get time.” I said.

  Then I got in my car and headed toward Orange County.

  At my moms apartment door, I knocked, the thrill of adrenaline pumped up, there was shuffling behind the closed door. A voice came through the door.

  “What is it?” Said a haggard female.

  “My name is Tucker, I'm looking for Tabitha Sawyer.”

  “Shit” Said the voice. The door opened and a very drunk and most likely high woman stood in the doorway. From my memories I knew it was her. “Who the fuck are you? And where's my pizza? I don't play around.”

  “You're my mom.” I said.

  “No pizza, go away.” She said.

  I retrieved to the Zephyr. I could wait out her highness or drunkenness. No problem. I sat in the my car sipping from a medium bottle of warm Jack Daniels. I looked at the passenger seat. The manila envelope stuck out of the duffel bag.

  I tore the envelope open, it was a lot if thick papers. The first page caught my eye. I read on and realized it was Dick's Bucket List. And now, according to his Bucket List, he wanted me to fulfill it(see the
PROLOGUE page to clear up any confusion).