– Alex –
Alex tossed and turned in his bed. For two weeks, he remained locked up in his trailer apartment, shut off from the world. Well, except for the delivery man making rounds, delivering large sized pizza cartons to his place every day. The trailer stank, the stink of rotten pepperoni and cheese toppings – his favorite. The refrigerator remained opened, it’s light burnt out, the chambers void of content. Outside, short stubs of stubborn grass had erupted around the perimeter, his garbage bin colonized by a hoard of flies, united by a common goal to find insectopia.
Alex allowed his hand slip under the band of his briefs, roaming, grazing repeatedly the tip of his hog before coming to rest in a cuddle with his scrotal sac. The space between his thighs was damp, a dampness that had remained since his last bath two weeks before, the morning before she broke up with him. The cuddle eventually broke and, finely but swiftly, his hand moved to his other nose, his index finger nudging its tip as he did.
‘Fuck’, he muttered, his nose and forehead wrinkling, his olfactory pleading for respite. Alex yawned, the the emerging miasma seemed to darken the room darkened. He knew it was time.
– Closure –
The sun emerged from behind the quickly forming dark clouds. Alex squinted in the piercing of its rays, rehearsing approach lines. His shirt was a bright yellow, feigning the color of a happy man. It was time to start the process of moving on, but he wanted this. Some sense of closure between them. He needed it. Not knowing what went wrong, what he did or did not do, worried him greatly. It hurt more than the rejection he felt. By the time his thoughts collected, his feet had brought him to her house. He looked up at her window – the one that opened into the street. Several nights standing on this lawn, he had thrown pebbles at her window until her head popped out of it. He stared for a moment at the carpenter working on the roof just atop the window.
‘Good afternoon Mr. Russo, I was hoping I could talk to Molly for a bit, sir’, he mumbled in his southern drawl, striding across the lawn up to the Molly’s daddy.
‘My daughter told me that you two broke up’.
‘That’s right, sir. But I just want to talk to her for a bit, sir’, he drawled on.
‘That’s fine, son, but Molly ain’t home. She be back any minute now, so you can wait for her. I need to go into town and get a replacement for this here piece of her roof before them stores are closed’.
‘I don’t know if she gon’ like me waiting inside for her. I can just run into town and get this replaced for you, sir, and she’ll be in before I get back, sir’.
Mr. Russo paused like a housewife who had heard her husband offer to make dinner for the first time in her marriage. His eyes dimmed in admiration.
‘Hmm. Not a bad idea. Not bad at all’, he replied, his face remaining without expression.
Mr. Russo had never shared a laugh with Alex. He had never smiled at him either, and he wasn’t about to now. He knew the boy was responsible for the reported broken panes of glass at Molly’s window. He knew Alex sneaked into the house a couple of times too. He watched Alex straddle along the picket, down the street and towards town with the sizeable piece of roofing sheet under his arms.
– Happiness –
Alex tossed and turned in his bed, this time satisfied. In the darkness, he peered at the piece of roofing sheet rested against the wall next to his father’s shotgun. The trailer stank but Alex didn’t notice.
Molly would sleep under the stars tonight. A smirk formed on his face, put there by the irony that his closure was an opening in Molly’s roof.
A bright blue light streaked along the insides of the trailer. The clatter of rain and the bellows that interrupted it were the comfort that Alex needed.