My Best Friend's Bucket List: Volume One (9 page)

“You're welcome to my
place anytime. Pies on the house.” Johnny said.

“Thank you, Johnny.” I
said. He left the grave site.

I wrapped my arms around Lorrie and held her
tight. She her warmth made me feel better. But there was that empty
place in my chest.

Dick was dead, everyone was sorry, I had
places to get free things. Nothing would bring him back. It was
something I was going to have to accept, like the billions of
humans before me that had lost people they love. Sloppy Deb
approached me and Lorrie.

“I should get her home.”
Deb said to me.

“Yeah.” I looked down at
Lorrie. “Hey, it's time to go.” Lorrie looked up at me, then her
mom.

“I'm gonna go home with
Tuck.” Lorrie said. Deb looked at me, concern for her daughter in
her eyes.

“I'll take care of her. I
promise.” I said.

“Call if you two need
anything. I'll be over immediately.”

“Thanks, mom.” Lorrie
hugged her mother tight. It made me miss my mom. I wondered what
she was up to in Orange County.

I put Lorrie to bed, in Dick's old bed,
after a glass of Jack on the rocks. Before she fell asleep she
looked me deep into my eyes. Her chest nut brown eyes pierced me. I
looked away. She said, “Thank you, Tuck. I'm sorry I miss Dick so
much. I hope it doesn't hurt you.”

I replied with, “I don't know what you mean.
I miss Dick too. Sleep now, angel.”

That was the first time I ever called her
'angel' out loud. She actually smiled. The smile split my heart in
two. Sitting by her side, the angel slept, I needed to finish off
the Jack Daniels and do some work on the computer.

I had taken vacation days at work for my
leaving town experiment. That meant time off to track down mom and
tell her of Dick's death and maybe seek out some comfort. I hadn't
seen my mother since age eleven. She was a bit of a train wreck,
but still sweet, from what I remembered.

According to Google, Tabitha
York-Sawyer(mom)lived in an apartment complex, near Balboa Island.
I wondered how she could afford that kind of location. Then I
remembered how much of a hustler mom could be.

The next day I checked on a sleeping Lorrie
Lovitt. I had a breakfast of toast and Jack on the rocks. With
directions to my mom's apartment written down on line paper, I
considered the options. Lorrie needed looking after, she was in the
middle of a breakdown, but who could I trust outside of Dick or
myself?

“Sloppy Deb.” Dick
said.

“Oh, yeah. She said to
call if we need anything.” I said. Then my body went rigid. I was
terrified to turn to my left, Dick had spoken from beyond the grave
and he was sitting next to me, I thought. With all my might, I
forced a look to the left.

Dick sat on the previously empty stool at
our bar counter.

“Hey.” I said.

“Hey, dude.” He said. His
throat had puncture wounds. The belly of his shirt was soaked in
blood. He wore his pizza delivery outfit.

“I'm officially fuckin'
nuts, right?” I asked him.

“Either that or you're
imagining me to help you through some trauma. Maybe later, after
you have fulfilled some purpose, maybe I'll disappear, dude.” Dead
Dick said.

“So you're not really
here?”

“I guess not, man. Make me
disappear.” He said. I blinked hard, he disappeared. The stool now
empty, drink in front of me still full, the kitchen
empty.

I downed my drink and I figured to be on a
one way track to the looney bin.

By the time Lorrie woke up my bags were
packed and breakfast was close to being done. The toaster beeped
and spit up two blueberry Pop-Tarts. I loved the sprinkles on the
blueberry ones. It made breakfast so much happier. The bowl was
full of Lucky Charms. Breakfast was ready for Lorrie.

Oh, yeah, I can't cook.

And I grocery shop like an 8 year old with a
car and credit card.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does
not recommend refusing to learn how to cook based on the bias that
whatever woman you marry will prepare and cook every meal ever for
you. This is not the idea of every woman, despite the fact that
modern women have a problem being subservient to men. Any
complaints on these issues can be forwarded to Shane Grey.

I didn't have a plan as Lorrie sat down at
the counter. She looked at me and smiled lazily, sleepily.

“
Thanks.” She
said.

“
No problem. How are you
this morning?” I asked timidly.

“
Okay. Where's the Jack
Daniels? Why are you drinking coffee?” She asked.

“
I made you some green
tea. Maybe we cut back a little, just in the mornings, you know for
health purposes.” I said, weakly. I didn't believe it
myself.

“
FUCK THAT.” Lorrie tore
apart the cupboards behind me, then the innocent cabinets. “Where'd
you put it, Tuck?”

“
Yeah, Tuck, where is it?
Mr. Hypocrite?” The voice belonged to Dick Pickett. He sat on
Lorrie's stool. Still messy and bloody.

I looked at Lorrie, she was scowling, I
pointed to her stool. She looked.

“
What the FUCK are you
pointing at?” Was her response. Dick laughed and blood spurted from
his gut.

“
Just eat your breakfast
and don't cuss at me, it's not lady like.” I said. Lorrie put her
head down and began crying.

“
I'm sorry. I shouldn't
take shit out on you. I mean, stuff. You've been a true best friend
through all of this.” Lorrie hugged me. Dick winked, put a thumbs
up, then disappeared.

I did an epic eye roll. My life was falling
to fucking pieces. I was seeing my dead best friend. Something had
to give. No one could take this much tragedy and mental anguish.
Did this scenario end with a sniper rifle and a deserted book
depository?(that's right, I went there).

Lorrie went to sit back down to eat her
breakfast, she almost tripped over my duffel bag, the look on her
face I could not describe.

“
YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME
AGAIN!” She cried out.

“
No, no, no. I'm just
going to see my mom. It's nothing. I'll be back late
tonight.”

“
Why ARE YOU TAKING A BAG
THEN?”

“
It's just in case I need
to spend the night. Trust me, I know what I'm doing and it's vital
to take an over night bag in case.” I said. The door bell
rang.

“
Who is that?” She asked,
livid.

“
Sloppy Deb. She's gonna
watch after you. I can't leave you alone. I would be too
worried.”

“
Fuckin' great.” Lorrie
sat at the counter and picked at her Pop-Tart. She reminded me of a
little girl, my heart fluttered, she was adorable. Spoiled, but
adorable.

I opened the door. Sloppy Deb came in,
looking rather spiffy and mother-like. She wasn't wearing her
normal jeans, vest, construction boots. Instead of being mommy and
daddy like usual, that day she was just mommy. She wore flats with
a floral pattern dress, no trucker cap like usual, make-up and hair
done up.

“
Hello, Tuck, where's my
little girl?” Deb said.

“
She's having breakfast at
the counter.” I said. Deb took off toward Lorrie. I closed the
front door, Dick was leaning on the wall behind it.

“
So, you gonna seriously
see your mom, dude? After all these years?”

“
Yeah, so?”

“
It's just that you're
family is a train wreck, dude. How could your mother possibly help
you get over my death?”

“
I will never get over
your death, man. You were my fucking brother. There will be no
getting over anything. You will be remembered.”

“
Thanks, dude.” He paused
a beat. “Remember the time we met those twins at the bar? They both
wanted to fuck me, but I convinced the hot one to convince the
uglier one to fuck you, because you were all emo and
shit?”

“
I had always thought the
uglier one just wanted to be with me.”

“
That could've been the
case. Remember, dude, you are the one controlling me. I'm not
really here, I'm fucking dead.” Dick said.

“
I know, man. But I still
miss you more than you will ever know.” I said.

Dick disappeared.

The Jack Daniels I had hidden from Lorrie,
by drinking it, was wearing off. Sipping a real cup of coffee, Deb
stroked Lorrie's hair as she ate her cereal, I watched the two in
amazement.

Was it possible that some parents loved
their children that much?

Lorrie Lovitt and Sloppy Deb Lovitt walked
me to the door. We stood awkwardly for a minute. Then Deb gave me a
kiss on the cheek. She wished me good luck, then left me and Lorrie
alone.

“
Please hurry back and be
fuckin' careful, Tucker Sawyer. I can't lose you too.” Her eyes
teared up. I brought a single finger to her eye and stroked the
tear away.

“
Don't waste those on the
idea that I may not come back. I'm just going to Orange County and
because no one REALLY loves me, I'll be back in one piece.” I said,
smiled big.

“
Sometimes you can be a
real idiot.” Lorrie said, then she hugged me, her mouth against my
right ear. “I love you, you idiot.” She whispered.

My body froze. I went into shock mode. Those
words on those lips. She must've meant as friends. I felt a panic
attack coming on.

I broke the hug. Opened the door.

“
Hey, wait.” Lorrie said.
I paused with my back to her.

“
Huh?”

“
There was something I
found, it's for you, I wanted to wait until you got back...” She
trailed off.

“
What are you talking
about?”

“
I found it at the bottom
of Dick's sock drawer. It's a sealed manila envelope addressed to
you.”

“
I don't know what it
could be.”

“
Here.” Lorrie produced
the envelope from what seemed like out of nowhere. I took
it.

“
Thanks. I'll read it when
I get time.” I said.

Then I got in my car and headed toward
Orange County.

At my moms apartment door, I knocked, the
thrill of adrenaline pumped up, there was shuffling behind the
closed door. A voice came through the door.

“
What is it?” Said a
haggard female.

“
My name is Tucker, I'm
looking for Tabitha Sawyer.”

“
Shit” Said the voice. The
door opened and a very drunk and most likely high woman stood in
the doorway. From my memories I knew it was her. “Who the fuck are
you? And where's my pizza? I don't play around.”

“
You're my mom.” I
said.

“
No pizza, go away.” She
said.

I retrieved to the Zephyr. I could wait out
her highness or drunkenness. No problem. I sat in the my car
sipping from a medium bottle of warm Jack Daniels. I looked at the
passenger seat. The manila envelope stuck out of the duffel
bag.

I tore the envelope open, it was a lot if
thick papers. The first page caught my eye. I read on and realized
it was Dick's Bucket List. And now, according to his Bucket List,
he wanted me to fulfill it(see the PROLOGUE page to clear up any
confusion).

CHAPTER 7

I
Discovered My Best Friends Bucket List And All I Got Was This
Stupid Responsibility

(And I chill with my
mom)

I sat on my mom's torn and ripped couch, in
her apartment, she was sober enough to remember me at this point.
She downed straight warm cups of Old Crow. I knew the sober
wouldn't last, so I did the only thing I knew how in these kinds of
situations.

Drink.

The bottle of Jack Daniels was in my jean
pocket. I slipped it out on took a long pull.

“
Do
you
drink every day?” Mom
asked.

“
Do you?”

“
Don't be a fucking smart aleck.”

“
Then don't ask stupid questions, I am
your
son.” I said. “Therefore, I am
a functioning alcoholic. Like you, the alcoholic part, obviously
not the functioning part.”

“
Always such a smart mouth punk. You think you're superior and
that you know better, because you just took off to that whores
house to live.”

“
You talking about Aunt Becky? She's a fucking Bible thumper.
Farthest from whore I have ever seen.”

“
You think someone can't be a whore for Jesus Christ?” Mom
said, words slowly starting to slur.

“
Fuckin' A. You're getting drunk again.” I said. Right on time
the door bell rang. “About fuckin' time.”

“
That pizza is hours late.” Mom said.

“
I'm convinced you didn't even order one to begin with. I
actually called and ordered these ones.” I opened the door. Paid
the guy. Set the pizza's on mom's filthy table. I wasn't above
these living standards I just chose to not live this
way.

The carpeted floor was covered in cigarette
ashes, cans, bottles, empty pizza and Chinese food cartons. Clearly
she had let herself go. Now I was wondering if I should just have
some pizza and go. I clearly wasn't going to find sympathy here.
And the last thing that was good for me would be to get involved in
this train wreck.