A barefoot Neil padded into the kitchen. He felt more refreshed and rested than usual, despite having to push all of his misdeeds from his mind—especially after seeing the photo his father had showed him. Opening the cabinets for raisin bran and a bowl, the college student’s bashed skull and bloody limbs jumped into his brain, but he dashed the images away. No, no, no. Last night, he told his memory, think about that instead. Then the recall came. His father had gone to sleep on the couch, and Neil hadn’t woken up at all. In fact, his dad was already up and in the shower. That was a new turn of events. When was the last time his father passed out until morning? Or got up before him? He couldn’t even pinpoint it. Weeks ago? Months?
Cereal rained into the bowl and filled Neil with a sudden joy. He could get used to being rested enough to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. Was he still allowed to revel in those? God hadn’t struck him with lightning yet. The Devil hadn’t come to collect him. He puffed out a sigh of relief. Maybe getting more shut-eye would help him behave. No more misdeeds. From now on, he would be that good boy his mother saw him as.
When he glanced at his watch, a smile crossed his lips at the realization that he wasn’t running late to work. Maybe karma worked in reverse. Filled with giddiness, he fetched the milk from the fridge. What other good things were in store for him today? While pouring the milk, Neil lost his grip on the carton and it knocked onto the countertop, spilling a river that dripped onto the tile. Before he went to wipe up the mess, he noticed his greasy hands. He hated when his father was careless in the kitchen. How many times did he have to clean up after him? And now he had to clean up after himself.
As he pushed the paper towels over the granite, Neil noticed a velvet bag where the counter met the wall. It was soaked in milk. What was this pouch for? What was it doing here? He dabbed it with a towel. A voice in his head told him to throw the bag away, so he tossed it in the trashcan. But then another voice advised him to pick the pouch back up and prop it back where he’d found it. His rumbling stomach and the bowl of about-to-be soggy breakfast dictated that he ignore the urge. He was curious as to the contents of the velvet thing, but he knew that getting sidetracked was the easiest way to end up being late for work. Proud of himself for his small victory against time, he finished drying up the tile and returned the milk to the fridge.
“Excuse me. Can you tell me where the ear mite drops are?” a young man asked.
Neil glanced up from the row of cat food he was stocking. “Yeah, sure.” As he perused the customer’s face, panic jolted him, throwing off his equilibrium. Putting a hand on the shelf to steady himself, Neil couldn’t take his eyes off the familiar face. Those overgrown curls needing a shape-up at the barber. Those brown eyes that got lost in a sea of matching hair. The patchy stubble growing on his unevenly textured skin. It couldn’t be. No. That college student had died. He'd heard the gators devouring the bones. Neil had trained himself not to deep sleep for the sake of keeping watch over his dad. REM cycles were a distant memory. And so were his own nightmares. Not one memory of a dream state from last night. Perhaps he wasn’t as rested as he thought because he now launched into a waking replay of what had happened just a few days ago.
“Is it me or does the party suck?” the curly-headed guy asked, breaking the silence.
Neil sipped from his Solo cup while resuming his stare at the road in front of the frat house. “Maybe you haven’t had enough beer?” All he wanted to do was brood over the fact that his ex-girlfriend Kyla had danced with at least three other guys that night. If only this guy would wander back inside.
The kid lit up a cigarette and puffed. “Actually, I might’ve had one too many.” He put up a finger and then waved two, then three digits in the air. “Alright, maybe more than one too many.” Taking another drag, he seemed to lean unnaturally, defying gravity.
The leaning encroached on Neil’s personal space. He side-stepped for some distance.
“Not even any pretty girls in there. Well, except one.” He flicked his cigarette onto the asphalt.
Watching the ember flare, Neil felt his insides flaring as well. Now he recalled the eagle mascot on this kid’s T-shirt bouncing around next to Kyla. Those dark, beady eyes undressing her as she writhed to the music. “I’d stay away from her if I were you.” Bitterness infiltrated his tone. His mood sank even lower than it had already been.
“You’re such a good friend.” The guy palmed Neil’s shoulder.
Annoyance darkened Neil’s energy as he glared at the hand clamped onto him. Friend? Who does this guy think he is? “Excuse me?” The violation of Neil’s personal space triggered a temper he didn’t even know he had. He fought it, remaining frozen.
“Yeah, you’re a great listener.” He squeezed Neil’s shoulder.
Were they having the same conversation? Or was this guy off in some way? Regardless, Neil peeled the hand from him. “Great. So now can you leave me alone?”
The guy snatched Neil’s cup and took a swig. Then he raised it in the air. His words slurring, he said, “To new and great friends.” The raised arm looped around Neil’s neck.
“Look, I’m not gay.” Had he misread the hungry eyes roving over Kyla? Or maybe this curly-headed asshole didn’t limit his appetites. It didn’t really matter to Neil as long as the unwanted touching ceased. Neil grabbed the guy’s wrist and lifted it away, only for the arm to lower and curl tighter around his neck. That’s when the ember inside of Neil burst into flame.
The kid leaned his head close to Neil’s. “I’m not gay either—at least, I’m pretty sure.” He laughed a high-pitched laugh, throwing his head back. “You’re just a really cool dude,” he said with an air of seriousness.
Neil felt the opposite of cool. “Stop touching me, bro.” His words escaped gritted teeth.
The kid stumbled back. “I’m sorry. I get a bit touchy-feely when I’m drunk.”
Neil’s rage diminished. A drunk who’s somewhat self-aware. Thank goodness. He considered getting back to the party. If only he’d walked away right then.
“Aren’t you the guy who bought that poisonous snake? How much do you get from the zoos and museums for that shit? I think it’s really badass. Some Hollywood movie type shit.” The curly head of hair bobbed while he tried to keep standing upright.
“What’d you say?” Neil asked, his mouth agape. “How’d do know about that?” The fines, the legal trouble, and the possible jailtime all swirled through his brain.
The guy shrugged, but it came off like a silly dance move.
Neil should have figured the alcohol was flooding this guy’s mouth with nonsense. Did he even really know what he was saying? But Neil had pounded back way too many beers himself. And that’s when his temper—or was it self-preservation?—took over. If the guy had responded, Neil wasn’t listening. He was the passenger in his own body, the rage in the driver’s seat. Despite all of his resistance in the current moment, Neil couldn’t regain control of himself. What happened next could never be undone.
“The ear mite drops?” the man said loudly, waving a hand in front of Neil.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry.” Neil pulled himself together. “Over here.”
“Thanks.”
About to return to the cat food aisle, Neil paused. “Where did you go to school?”
“South Broward. Why?” His eyes sized Neil up, his eyebrow raised.
“Cool. What about college?”
“I didn’t go to college. Saved all that loan debt, you know?”
“Good for you, man.” So much for an alternate reality where dead students came back to life like nothing had happened. Nothing at all. The mistaken identity merely drove the dagger of guilt and shame deeper into Neil’s heart. A huge part of him had wished the guy from the frat party was still walking the earth. Neil’s heavy steps returned him to where he was stocking and where he wallowed in his negativity until the end of his shift.
“Do you ever get used to that sound?” Andy asked from the beat-up armchair in the garage. Several aquariums housed dozens of reptiles. And Neil had just given some of the snakes their nightly meal of mice.
“It’s the circle of life. When you think about it, we eat too, you know? How is it different?”
“Um, well, my food doesn’t usually squeak or make any other noises. So—” The light in Andy’s eyes faded, and so did his goofy grin.
Neil thought about their dirty deed out in the Everglades and guessed it was what shifted Andy’s mood. That wasn’t the circle of life whatsoever. That was something else.
“You sure you don’t want a beer?” Andy asked while bending to the mini fridge.
“We’ve gone through this already.” Neil failed to temper the annoyance in his voice, his ear angled toward the door leading to the kitchen.
Andy clicked open his can before collapsing into the armchair and glancing at Neil. “What?”
“Did you hear something?”
“No. What did you hear?”
“I just hope it’s not my dad,” Neil said.
“I thought you said he slept like a baby last night?”
“Yeah, but that might’ve been an isolated incident, you know?”
“I can take that shift tonight, if you want.”
“Nah, I’ll save that up for another time.” Neil considered reaching for a beer, but he helped himself to a can of soda instead. After taking a few gulps of liquid caffeine, he said, “I’m gonna go check on him. Just to be safe.”
Andy raised his can in the air before taking a drink.
When Neil crossed the threshold into the kitchen, it took a moment for his mind to register what he was seeing. His father stood at the counter in a T-shirt and boxers. Two highball glasses were half full of a clear liquid. Was it water? Vodka? But then Neil spotted little blue flecks floating and wondered why there were two glasses. Was there someone else here?
Chris hadn’t acknowledged his son’s presence, but he seemed preoccupied. He took up one of the highballs. “Cheers, my love. May I one day have the courage to find out where you’ve gone to. I love and miss you more than you will ever know.” His eyes watered as he clinked his glass to the other one and brought it to his mouth.
That’s when Neil spotted the bottle of Liquid-Plumr resting on the counter, and he rushed to grab the glass from his father’s hands. “Dad! No!”
Chris seemed determined to consume the drink. “What’s your problem? Can’t you just leave me alone?”
Neil managed to knock the glass away, and it clonked into the sink, only for his father to reach for the second pour. “Dad, you have to wake up.” His voice rang with both exasperation and annoyance.
While Neil went for the glass, Chris slid a butcher knife from the nearby block and wielded it. “How dare you? Don’t you know this is the only time I get to see her?” He began to sob, the knife wavering in his grasp. “She’s gone forever. I need her so much.”
“It’s not real. You’re dreaming.” Neil’s whole body trembled. What was he going to do?
Chris lifted the glass to his lips.
Paralyzed, heart palpitating, Neil wished his brain would propel him to react. He sensed a presence behind him and remembered that Andy had been out in the garage.
Andy barreled toward where Neil stood next to his father, who now had a mouthful of the poison. Andy snatched up the sink hose, flipped the water on, and sprayed Chris in the face. The water sobered him up, his eyes suddenly lucid and his expression one of alarm. He dropped the glass into the sink and yacked up the Liquid-Plumr. The knife clattered to the counter.
“Dad, wash your mouth out. Did any go down your throat?”
“I don’t think so.” A disgusted look came over Chris’s face. “Ugh.”
“You guys can’t keep doing this,” Andy said.
“That’s what I’ve been saying, Dad.” Neil’s voice was irritated, verging on angry.
“I know.”
But the question was, would he be able to convince him to do something about it?