The Fight Within (12 page)

“Obviously that was meant to be sarcasm.”

He shrugged and kept moving about.

“In all of my years of living here, I have never had
anyone
leave my trash here, nor have I left a lot of waste. This was a one-time thing. You must be a very lazy person, trying to find excuses to not do your job!” she chastised, her dark brown eyes sizing him up, a look of disdain on her beautiful face as she placed her hand on her hip.

Look at those goddamn lips…

Sean smirked, reached for a white plastic bag of hers and tossed it into the jaws of death, too.

“Ya think so?” was all he offered while his sights drifted back down to her exposed leg. He was prepared to deliver another verbal blow, but damn it, he’d been distracted, knocked off his A-Game. Following his eyes, she took embarrassed inventory of herself, and smacked the damn robe shut with a slap of her hand.

“Yes, I think so.”

“I left you a warning several weeks before…wasn’t the first time you were told.” He threw a large green bag inside the metal menace.

“That’s what your boss said too, but I didn’t get it.” He could tell she was restraining herself, controlling her outbursts. Below the surface, a very angry woman lived, and if she had the chance to get him behind closed doors, he was convinced she’d pour all of that shit into a smack across his face, a punch in his damn gut, and stomp his foot like it were a bunch of grapes she wished to make into wine.

“So.” He grabbed another bag from the curb, this time, moving a bit slower, dragging out the interaction that he so relished. “That’s my fault too, right?”

He tossed it leisurely over, figuring it must’ve been full of papers since it weighed hardly anything at all.

“Look, I would just appreciate more consideration. Don’t do that again.”

“You rich people are something else, ya know that?” He laughed humorlessly. “I could’ve not given you a warning at all. The world doesn’t revolve around you, ya know.”

“Seeeaaan!” Roy called out over the loud engine of the thing, interrupting the quarrel. “Stop it. Look ma’am, we apologize. He didn’t mean nuttin’ by what he just said. He
did
leave a note though, I saw him. We are sorry for the inconvenience. It’s just policy is all.”

She looked at Roy, offered a peace-filled smile, softened a bit, then turned back toward Sean, glaring at him as if she could slice his head off with a mere glance. She scratched her head, which she’d covered with a black satiny scarf, and bunched the material just so, causing her tresses to be partially exposed. A few renegade curls on the side blew in the wind, reminding him of soft, shiny ribbons.

I wonder if her pussy is shaved bald or has the same soft hair on it?

He pulled himself away from the calm, beautiful moment and took in the deep, dark hatred building inside of her eyes. Oh yes, she wanted to get a hold of him. Of that, he was certain.

Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded her getting her hands on him…not minded at all…

“You have a lot to learn about customer service, young man,” she chastised as she turned on her heels to walk back up her driveway.

“But you have
great
customer service, ma’am!” She stopped and turned back toward him, an obvious look of perplexity on her face. “Too bad I didn’t bring any singles, you earned every cent! Nice bra and panties, baby! They match, and black is my favorite color!” He cackled as he jumped on the back of the truck and was hauled away just in the nick of time.

The woman looked down and gasped, completely unaware that her damn robe tie had fallen from her waist, blown into her perfectly cut and manicured front yard and left her semi-exposed for his wandering, perverted eyes to take in and completely enjoy. In her rage, she must’ve been so consumed with the moment at hand, she’d had no idea the wind had molested her right before his very eyes. He may have been hauling useless trash, but the look on her face was fucking priceless!

*

People throw away
perfectly good things that other individuals could have, make good use of…

Sean sat there in his brother’s apartment, waiting for the bastard to return with their damn dinner. His thoughts raced here and there as the drone from the television played a used car commercial. He sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by odds and ends he’d found along his weekly trek on the garbage routes. He’d never coined himself a packrat, magpie or anything of the like—but he did believe he was skilled at finding a diamond in the rough. His brief substitute stint with the little league team had come to an end, and he already missed his boys…yeah, his boys. They’d grown attached to him as well, and though the extra free time allowed him more hours for study and training, there was still a void, a bottomless pit inside that he tried to ignore, but it was simply in vain.

The hollowness within him made him toss and turn in his own mind. That must be why he was always on the go, always staying busy. He was afraid that once he got still, became quiet, he’d hear the creaky doors of his mind open, allowing the messiness of emotional turmoil to make itself comfortable within. No, he couldn’t have that. It was simply too much. The horrible shit would come back, mess him up, and make him pay over and over until his heart was destitute.

He rolled the notions over, revealing them face first as he sat in Colin’s apartment, the small yet homey place smelling of burnt hair and sweet ointments. His brother’s girlfriend, Lydia, had fried her damn tresses again to a fucking crisp. The woman would stand there in their colorful fish-theme decorated bathroom and painstakingly go over sections of brittle, blond hair with a curling iron, wrapping them tightly around the hot, smoking barrel just so. He had to piss so badly, but the woman wouldn’t budge, determined to turn herself into a sight to behold while he tried to keep from soiling his pants like some damn preschooler.

“Just uh minute,” she kept repeating to no avail as he rallied behind her. He dismissed himself, hobbling away with a sloshing bladder until he found himself sitting back on the floor amongst his newfound treasures.

He picked up a small white plastic bag full of Barbie doll clothing, some of it still in its original packaging, then tossed it aside. It would all be listed on eBay before the end of the night. Reaching over his picnic mass of used and abused wares, he grasped an iPhone 4 car charger, still in its new, unopened wrapper. It was old, but someone out there just may want it. He set that down and unfastened a folder full of sketches of what appeared to be an art class study of a nude, middle-aged woman. He felt they were pretty good, and he’d list ’em on eBay as well—folks tended to go for that sort of thing. He could easily get ten bucks a piece for ’em.

Just then, the front door swung open, revealing his clean-shaven, dark blond haired, butter-mouthed sibling with a white bag of greasy, aromatic cheeseburgers stuffed under his pit.

“Did jah get some more stamps?!” the man whispered as he made a mad dash toward him, like that’s what the world demanded—more firecracker collector stamps from the July 4ths of the distant past.

“No! Would you forget the stamps already?” Sean snatched the bag of oily burgers from the guy, tore it open and reached in the sack with hungry determination. He forgot his need to piss as he removed one wax paper covered ball of deliciousness, quickly undressed it as if he’d never eaten a day in his life, and stuffed it unceremoniously into his awaiting mouth.

“Got anything to drink?” he asked around a mouthful of bread, the tang of a sliced pickle tickling his throat.

“Yeah, help yourself.”

Sean got to his feet and pointed down at the floor. “I got another bag in the car. It was too big to bring in but I want you to take a look.”

“Yeah? What’s in it?” The guy took a bite of his own sandwich, rolling the flavorful meat along his tongue while his eyes lit up with anticipation for more.

“A bunch uh shit.” Sean made the short trek to the kitchen area, plucked the grimy refrigerator door open, and beheld a beautiful assortment of chilled beers, fancy wine coolers, and a jug of chocolate milk, all face forward, just like it would be at a convenience store. He surveyed his array of choices and grabbed an Icehouse beer from the pack. As he closed the refrigerator door, he jumped up in the air, his arm swung outward in reflex, but the bastard ducked in the nick of time.

“Jesus Christ, Colin!”

“Did I scare ya?”

“No.” Sean clutched the neck of the cold, wet bottle and moved around him toward the counter drawer to grab a fork for his coleslaw. “I just like shittin’ on myself in midair!” He felt a slight tinkle, and knew his time was almost up.

Colin chuckled. “You’ll shit ya self for real after I tell you
this
. Did you know you picked up a diamond ring, man?!”

Sean paused, tossing the fork on the counter.

“A what?”

“Yeah, a diamond ring! I debated on even telling you…I could see you hadn’t opened the bag yet. You’re lucky you’re my brother. It was in that little green sack of yours. I put it back, wanted you to see it in its original habitat,” he joked.

Sean abruptly moved past him, the unopened beer in his hand, and made his way back into the shoebox sized living room where he’d set up nomadic roots. Falling to his knees, he set the beer on the floor beside him and rummaged through the collection. He found the green bag, reached inside and pulled out a twisted, knotted mess of costume jewelry, rubber bands, and odds and ends. Searching through it like an archaeological sifter, he finally caught sight of the damn thing.

“Oh shit, man…I thought you were joking.” He turned it around and around, staring at it in total disbelief. He smiled. “It’s big.”

Colin sat down beside him, took a bite of his burger. “It’s real, too,” he said with a mouth full.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sean whispered. “How much you think it’s worth?”

“It’s got to be at least five carats…it depends on the clarity and cut. But from first glance, I’d say a lot.” He swallowed. “I’m no expert at that sort of thing. You need to have it appraised.”

“Yeah, but how much will
that
cost?”

“I don’t know.” Colin shrugged. “Maybe like forty or fifty bucks…it’ll be well worth it.”

Sean nodded in agreement.

“Cool.”

Colin handed him the beer cap opener, and they soon drank from their respective bottles, both of their minds no doubt working overtime regarding the rare find. Lydia entered the room, her hand on her narrow hip and a stern look on her heavily made-up face.

“You two clowns! Where is my food? Did you greedy bastards eat it already?” she barked, but they both knew it was simply her way.

“Right here.” Colin reached in the paper bag. It rustled a bit as he dislodged a carefully wrapped chicken sandwich and handed it to her.

She plopped down between the two of them, getting comfy, as if they were old friends. Sean placed the green bag over the diamond, disguising it just so, then made his escape to the restroom. A couple minutes later he returned to them at least two pounds lighter. The three huddled together, listening to the television. Lydia’s freshly pressed tresses layered against her shoulders and the scent of her strawberry shampoo intermingled with the burnt odor. Sean slicked the diamond ring into his pocket, his thoughts drifting here and there.

I’ve heard about people finding stuff like this, but how could someone not know that they’d thrown a diamond ring away? Especially one this big? Was it on purpose?

He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. A piece of wayward lettuce tickled the side of his mouth.

I could turn it in, see if someone lost it…

Fuck that shit! I could sure use the cash.

He took a swig of his beer and let his gaze drift toward the front window with the clunky air conditioner unit sticking out of it. Full of white, frosty condensation, it rattled and spun noisy, churning tunes. He’d found the damn thing for Colin a couple of years ago, one of a kind and built to last…

People throw away candy wrappers, empty juice cartons, valuable comics, and diamond rings…like it’s all the same, all garbage. People throw away people, too… Yeah, I know what that’s like, that’s the worst feeling of all. At least, garbage knows it’s garbage I suppose… I wonder if I’m worth somethin’ to somebody important? Like, some dignitary might want my time, my opinion, my advice one day.

He took another bite of his sandwich as he daydreamed, feeling a tad bit foolish.

Just because somebody throws ya away don’t mean you aren’t worth shit. I’m worth a lot, even if I’m the only one who knows it…

*