The voice on the phone was familiar to him and still talking, but he had stopped listening several minutes ago. She obviously didn't realize this because the cadence did not change. He was far away, floating somewhere far above where he lay sprawled on the floor, his tense hand still clutching the cold receiver in some sort of karate death grip. His breaths were slow and shallow, his body motionless, and from the vacant look in his eye, one might mistake him for dead and gone. But Eddie was very much alive on a physical level, even if emotionally he was numb. He could still hear her words in the distance. He didn't really need to hear them. He knew what the message was. In some sense he had seen this coming. He never acknowledged it, of course, but the gnawing dread, the feeling of falling, had been there in the background for quite some time. The words themselves were unimportant and expected, words like "time", "space", and "different". Yet somehow he couldn't believe that the voice saying these words belonged to her, the one person he thought would be different, the one voice he thought that finally understood him after all those years, the voice that belonged to the sweetest, most beautiful girl that had ever entered his life. He wanted to buy into the idea that this was temporary, that this didn't mean she was gone. But deep inside he knew it was inevitable. She was no longer a part of his life.
His thoughts drifted and in his mind's eye he could see it all over again, the cold winter day. He could hear the rattle of the engine in his ears, could feel the firmness of the brake underfoot as the bus slowed and stopped. His favorite song was playing on the radio and he was chatting up one of his regulars in the seats behind him. He was relaxed and wearing his usual infectious smile that made the regulars at home and the strangers at ease. Eddie was a people person. Always had been. The door made a hissing sound as it whooshed open. And there she was, sitting on the chipped concrete bench under the protection of the glass bus stop housing. The drizzle was making a soft tapping sound on the glass. She was petite, about 5'4" with milk chocolate skin and finely defined features. She gathered two brown grocery bags and, clutching them tightly, rose and stepped towards the open door. Then she suddenly looked up and directly at him, focusing a pair of soft brown eyes on his face. There was a quality of innocence that hit him hard. Eddie was not a romantic. He didn't believe in that shit. But he remembered that moment clearly. It lasted one long second and she stepped onto the bus, her worn but fashionable boots clicking on the metal steps. Their eyes met again as she scanned her pass, and she smiled for an instant.
Amazingly when Eddie came back to the present the voice was still chattering. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying on the floor with the phone. Suddenly the voice paused and he realized she had asked him a question. He considered saying something. He wanted to say something, anything. Then he realized he wanted to say everything. That is when the receiver slipped from his fingers, falling gently to the floor. He could hear her calling out hesitantly, sounding slightly confused and alarmed. But he was too busy stumbling, or dragging himself through the dim light until he collapsed on an old sofa a few feet away. He blinked slowly a couple of times and his eyes gradually came closed as he escaped into the comfort of sleep, away from the world of duties and responsibilities and into something much different… release.
The games no longer amused him. The problem was, there was very little that amused him anymore. He was now the manager of the whole store, which didn't translate into a lot of income, but he got by. His workers came and went, but they were all the same. Teenagers without much interest in the job, collecting a paycheck and then moving on to something else. He didn't blame them. After all, this was Nickeltown. Not exactly a beacon of hope and opportunity.
He walked home to save money. He had found a room in a deadbeat place not far from the corner of cleveland and 291. He always made sure to stop by the liquor store in the bilo shopping center. Sometimes he would go to bilo, but he always went to the liquor store.
When he got home the first thing he did was pull whatever liquor was still in the freezer out and put the new liquor in. He never stopped to check his messages, though the light was always blinking. He had plenty of friends, he could get a quick lay if he needed one. He rarely heard from most of his family, but his mother called nearly every day. He wasn't sure why, because he only called back about once a week.
He knew something had to change. But where to start?
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