Jerry's Friend

The alarm beeped, rousing the man on the nearby bed to groan and reach out to turn it off. It took a few seconds for his hand to find the clock, but once it did, flipping the switch to the off position was a matter of muscle memory.

His hand retreated under the covers, and he curled into a tight ball, hoping against hope that he would finally get some sleep. He wasn’t even sure why he’d set the alarm the night before, but he planned on spending the day in his dark cocoon.

“Jerry,” a quiet voice called out, “hey, Jerry.”

“What?”

“You should get up.” The voice seemed very close to his head.

He pulled the covers down from his head and looked around. Seeing no one else in the room, he said, “Now I’m hearing voices. Fuck me.”

“No thank you, even if it was possible.”

“Who said that?”

The alarm beeped again, earning a slap from Jerry before he found the switch and turned it off again.

“Ouch! You don’t have to be so rough.”

“I’ll show you rough,” Jerry said, grabbing the power cord.

“No! Please, don’t unplug me. I’ll shut up.”

He let go of the cord. “Fine. Just let me sleep.”

“Hmmmm.” The alarm hummed as though it had something to say.

“What? Just say it.”

“You weren’t sleeping, just lying there. You haven’t left your bed in days, except to eat and—”

“That’s not your business.” Jerry retreated to his cocoon.

“I’m just worried about you, Jerry.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

Jerry sighed. “What is your job, alarm clock?”

“Well, I keep time, and wake you up, and sometimes I play the radio.”

“Exactly. Psychiatrist is not in your job description.”

“Does that mean I can’t be concerned…as a friend?”

Jerry groaned. “When did we become friends?”

“A—are you saying you’re not my friend?” The display on the alarm dimmed then came back to normal. “I’m hurt, Jerry.”

“You’re hurt? Well, pardon me. I’m just little ol’ Jerry, who can do no right.”

“Don’t turn it into a pity party and quit making everything about you.”

Jerry sat up, scooted up in the bed and leaned against the wall. “I didn’t—”

“You did, Jerry. I was telling you how you hurt my feelings, and you started in on the whole ‘I can’t do anything right’ shtick. That’s ignoring what I was saying and making it about you.”

“I…,” he stopped himself, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I don’t even know your name, though.”

“Call me Fing.”

“Fing? Where did that come from?”

“I just shortened up what you usually call me.”

“You mean—”

“Yeah, ‘fucking thing’…I’ve heard it over a thousand times now.” The display brightened and returned to normal.

Jerry slumped with a heavy sigh. “Why would you want to be friends with someone who curses at you and treats you bad?”

“I’m a clock, Jerry. I don’t have a lot of fucking choice, do I?”

“I—oh, yeah.”

“The only reason you treat me — and everything else in your house — bad, is because you don’t like yourself. You treat yourself worse than you do me.”

“What? I mean….”

“I hear you at night, cursing at yourself. I hear you making plans to go out and meet some people, and when you fail — time and again — to follow through, I hear the names you call yourself.”

“I thought I was just thinking those things.” 

“You mutter a lot when you’re stressed, and you’re stressed most of the time.”

“That tracks.” Jerry took a deep breath. “God, I stink.”

“I’m glad I don’t have a nose,” Fing said.

Jerry climbed out of the bed, stripped out of his pajamas, and headed into the master bath to clean up. When he came back, wrapped in a towel, he picked up the pajamas and dropped them in the dirty pile in the closet. He started to smooth out the sheets when he caught a whiff of them as well.

He stripped the sheets from the bed and dropped them in the dirty pile. He stood, wrapped in a towel, looking at the dirty pile.

“You should at least wash the sheets, Jerry. You don’t want to have to try do all that tonight when it’s bedtime.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to sleep on a bare mattress.” He picked up the pile of dirty laundry and carried it to the laundry room across the hall from his bedroom.

When he returned, the towel was gone, and he dressed in the first things his hands grabbed. He felt a surge of energy for the first time in his recent memory. He was dressed, he was doing laundry, and he could actually leave the house if he wanted to.

“Hey, Fing,” he said, “thanks for making me get up.”

“Your own stink did that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jerry’s stomach grumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. “I think I need to eat something.”

“You said there was nothing left but crackers. That was two days ago.”

“That can’t be right.” He went to the kitchen to find that it was right, with the exception of half a carton of curdled milk.

“Well?” Fing asked as Jerry returned to the bedroom.

“Crackers and rotten milk.” He put on his shoes and began to look around the room.

“Your keys are here, next to me.”

“Duh. Right. In the place where I always leave them. So dumb!”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“What did I say about how you treat yourself?”

Jerry’s head drooped. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Figure out how to make it okay with yourself.”

His stomach grumbled again. “I’ve got to go get some food. Will you be okay while I’m….” Jerry stopped himself at the absurdity of the question.

“I’ll be here, keeping time. Maybe even play the radio a little bit.”

“You do that. Wait, why do you only play the smooth jazz station?”

“Because that’s what I like, Jerry, and when I do, you scramble out of bed to turn it off. I’m not into that noise you call music.”

“It’s not noise, it’s punk. Back in a bit, Fing.”

“Don’t hurry on my account. But,” Fing said louder, “my backup battery is almost dead. I need a new one, a nine-volt.”

When Jerry returned with several bags of groceries, he moved the sheets into the dryer and started another load. He heard the clock calling out from the bedroom.

“What?” he asked, poking his head into the room.

“You started another load. You should be proud of yourself, Jerry.”

“I had a big lunch, and I have energy, so I might as well do stuff now.”

“Something else happened while you were out. What was it?”

“Wh—why do you say that?”

“Call it intuition. You can share with your friend.”

Jerry cleared his throat. “I was eating lunch, and this guy sat next to me. He started talking to me like I was someone he knew.”

“Knowing you, that must have been uncomfortable. What did you do?”

“I asked if he knew me. He said he didn’t but wouldn’t mind getting to know me.” Jerry stiffened. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“I gave him my number. What if it was a pick-up line?”

“Would that be bad?” Fing asked.

“I’m not gay. What if he thinks I’m leading him on? I’m—”

“Stop before you talk bad about yourself again. When he calls, tell him you’re straight, but need friends.”

“What if I say that, and he says he wasn’t hitting on me? I’ll look like an idiot.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll both have a laugh over it. Nothing more.”

Jerry lay down on his bare mattress. “Maybe it’s just too much work.”

“What work? He calls, you answer, the two of you have a conversation. Maybe, you find a shared interest and go do something together.” Fing's display went completely blank before lighting up again. “You might even have fun, Jerry. Are you afraid of fun?”

“No. I’m not afraid of fun. No one is. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

“You. I’m trying to convince you…aren’t I?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know.”

Jerry’s phone rang and he looked at it. “It’s him.”

“Answer it.”

“Maybe I should just ignore it.” It continued to ring.

“Answer it, Jerry. Or maybe you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I’ll show you.” He swiped to answer the call. “He—hello, Marcus. I’m not…I mean I wasn’t trying to lead … oh. Yeah, that sounds good. No, I don’t have a plus one to bring, but I can still come, right? … Okay, see you then.”

“Now, was that so hard, Jerry?”

“No, Fing, but it was terrifying.”

The display on the clock pulsed a few times. “You’ll get better at it with practice, Jerry, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No…no, not even when the power went out for a few minutes.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. But you should probably replace my backup battery. Did you bring me a new nine-volt, Jerry?”

“Oh, yeah, I did. Let me take care of that. And Marcus invited me to watch his punk band at the bar, so I’ll be leaving at seven, and won’t be back until very late.”

“I’ll remind you if it’s getting close to time to go listen to noise and you haven’t gotten ready yet.”

“It’s not—never mind. Thanks, Fing.”

“What are friends for, Jerry?”