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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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