Fiction Fix Nine
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Anna | Roommates<br />
come and go, day and night, at the Police Resource Center. The Shepherd<br />
is not concerned. All of his drugs are prescribed by people who went to go<br />
to college and have initials after their names. The Shepherd’s father paid a<br />
lot of money for him to study psychology so he could pretend to have a host<br />
of disorders and get drugs. Legal drugs. One night over a bottle of 18 year<br />
Scotch that cost as much as our rent, he takes the drugs because he’s a shepherd<br />
without a flock. The alcohol picks at his brain. I can see it. Chicks are<br />
his flock as far as I can tell but they roam. That presents a problem.<br />
The old girlfriend is in the Shepherds room waiting for her appointment<br />
to terminate her pregnancy. The other roommates are annoyed by<br />
her presence. Her predicament proves life is messy. We all agree they must<br />
have been doing it to the Clash. Rock the Casbah. He tells us in a hushed<br />
whisper the old girlfriend still loves him.<br />
I say, "If she loved you then she’d have your baby. You’re delusional."<br />
He buys her Chinese food after the termination. He says it’s the<br />
least he can do. Collectively we stand in Community Sector One and roll<br />
our eyes. The roommates believe he only has one gonad left, thus diminishing<br />
future procreation abilities. Get it while you can. That’s the prevailing<br />
sentiment. The old girlfriend goes back to the place where old girlfriends go.<br />
The new one arrives. We like her. She is sweet and demure and educated in<br />
Europe. We stand in Community Sector One with her and drink coffee until<br />
she asks us what we’ve been doing. A tension seizes the group. Um, uh umm<br />
uh, we say intelligently. The Shepherd herds her off to drink overpriced Irish<br />
Whiskey and not mention the baby that he didn’t have. A few nights later he<br />
calls at 1 AM. He says he doesn’t feel so good. His arm hurts, he’s sweating,<br />
can’t catch his breath.<br />
Heart attack, I say.<br />
No, he says. No way, he repeats. "I’m only twenty-six."<br />
Heart attack, I say.<br />
He does not believe me. Finally, he agrees to let me take him to the<br />
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