Something Came Up

Something Came Up

You won’t make it home for dinner tonight.

Bet if anyone could choose how they'd want to die, they’d choose to die in their bed, in their sleep, wouldn’t they? Sure, anyone would. Granted, they'd leave a tangled mess for someone else to deal with. But what the hell, they'd be dead. Not their problem anymore.

Maybe, at some point, if someone'd live long enough, they may become more mature and have a lawyer write up a will. They might even name an executor, make bequests, and ignore all those relatives who are hovering with their hands out. Anyone may leave their fortune, such as it might be, to stray cats? Why not? But people don’t get to choose when they die, do they? At least most don’t.

You did. You had a choice. Vinnie asked you, “Cement boots or the trunk?”

At the time, your hands and feet were taped to a chair, your mouth stuffed with a dirty rag, duct tape keeping the rag in place. You shook your head at his question. Hoping he’d understand your cries to not do this. Your attempts to claim your innocence. Your pleas to remind him of your friendship. But he chose to misinterpret your pathetic grunts and moans.

“Okay, I see you want me to decide. Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “The trunk it is.”

The trunk is more cruel. For here in the dark, you have time. A few hours, a little more, a little less. Time to think. To wonder who accused you and why? Time to look back over your life and wonder where or when or how you went wrong. Time to think about Angela and hope she will forgive you for not coming home to dinner tonight, or ever again. Time to hope. To write scenarios in your head how someone will come and rescue you.

Time and hope.

But you know the car is being watched. You don’t blame the ones watching They don’t know you're in here. They just know to stay long enough and watch. So, hoping is a waste of time, though time is the only thing you have.

You remember when you were a kid and didn’t know better. Back when you were given free cokes and the promise of a dollar later. All you had to do was stay up and watch. Make sure that nobody touched that car. The one you and your friends were watching. All of you felt so important. Were drunk on the thought of earning a whole dollar just sitting there, past your bedtimes and watching a stupid old car. It was how you, how all of you, go suckered in. Easy money, a sure thing, a pat on the head.

You know there are kids out there now, maybe, perversely your own kid. Watching. Keeping anyone, cops, salvage fanatic, beach combers, dog walkers, everyone out of the surf. You bet they get more than a dollar these days. But they're just as starry eyed when they get that smile, that nod.

They put you in this trunk at low tide. You know it'll take tops six long, agonizingly long hours before hightide will completely wash over the car and drown you. And each time the water washes in, you will try to lift your head and hope the wave will roll back enough for you to take one more breath. Just one more breath.

Though you know it’ll be useless, you will do it anyway.

But until then you don’t think, try not to think about what will come. you can’t help but think about what went wrong. Try to imagine who of your friends, your enemies would do such a cruel thing and why. Your mind is like a bowl of buttered pasta, all slippery. You can't hold on to any one thought long enough to find an end.

Why do you bother thinking?

Because you have nothing else to do. It’s the only thing you can do.

They hogtied your ankles and wrists together. Can’t kick at the lid. Can barely move. The rag, that smells of motor oil is absorbing every last bit of saliva, whatever moisture is left after you pissed your pants. Oh yeah, they had a real good laugh about that. Maybe one day, they will be in this spot and remember all the times they laughed when some poor sap peed on himself.

All you can do is wonder who. Who singled you out? Who is the judas among your … what? No, not friends.

How much time has passed? Do you hear water slapping at the undercarriage? Has it been that long? How much longer do you have?

Who will miss you? Your kids? Were you a good enough father to them? How will they remember you? Will they remember the good times? Were there enough good times? Did you go to enough of their games? Watched their eager tries to hit that ball. Did you praise them enough just for being? Or will they just remember the fact that you didn’t come home one night? Does Angela love you or is she already moving on? What made you think that? Of course, she loves you, will miss you, won’t she? Has she tried to give you subtle messages that you didn’t want to hear? Have you been too distant from her? Were you trying too hard to protect her and the kids from the fringes of your life?

You had tried to stay away from Vinnie and his business. Had begged him to cut you off, let you go, let you go legit. You thought he’d honor that. You wonder what you had been accused of. He hinted at some stuff. You weren't listening too closely. Just couldn't believe he'd hauled you in. He made vague comments about double crossing and skimming. As if! But he never flat out said what your crimes were. Did he just need you or someone like you out of the way? Is he after Angela? Damn! Your stomach turns at the thought alone! He wouldn't, she wouldn't, would they?

You feel water!

It's cold, so cold. The shoulder you're lying on is colder and feels wet. Fingers try to clutch at the cold, wet carpet fibers. The cold is seeping into the cloth of your pants, freezing your bare feet, weighing down your head.

Somebody!

You try to kick at the trunk lid, but all you can do is scrape your bare feet against the rough, wet carpet. You try to sit up but can’t get any leverage. All you end up doing is wear yourself out. Snort salt water. Cough fruitlessly. Try to pant desperately through your nose.

Come on, man, get real. It’s too late to be scared, to panic. What can you do? This is a one-way street. Nobody is coming. Nobody will have remorse or pity. Get over yourself.

No, you won’t be home for dinner ever again.