Free Undermind: Nine Stories by Edward M Wolfe

the fuck
was I still doing here? I should’ve run away as soon as I woke up.
What difference did it make if the house was empty or not? I had no
reason to be here at all. Well, I guess I could have looked for
clues about what had happened last night, but I don’t even know
what I’d look for.
    I ran into the first bedroom on the right and
went to the window. I unlocked it and pushed it up. I kicked out
the screen and crawled through. Now, where to? I didn’t even know
where the fuck I was. So, first thing – get far away. Anywhere
would do.
    I ran across the backyard and hoisted myself up
and over the brick wall and into the next backyard. There was a
sliding glass door in front of a covered patio but the blinds were
closed, as were the ones in front of a small kitchen window. I ran
around to the side of the house and reached a wooden fence with a
metal latch. I stopped and waited, listening. No one was pursuing
me. I lifted the latch, opened the gate and walked alongside the
driveway all casual as if I was just heading out for a stroll.
    I had to think. How could I have ended up at
that house? At the sidewalk, I turned right, still completely
unaware of what part of town I was even in. I hoped to get a clue
when I reached a corner with a street sign. What was the last thing
I could recall? I remembered being at work yesterday. I left work,
went home. Wait a second. Yesterday? How did I know if I only lost
one day? Maybe today wasn’t even Saturday? I instantly patted my
right, back pocket, knowing it would be empty. It was. Where the
fuck was my cell phone?
    Oh shit. What if it was in the house with the
girl? The cops will surely think I was the killer – and a stupid
one at that. My other pocket was empty too. No wallet. This was
just getting better and better. No keys in my right, front pocket,
and no cash or coins in the other front pocket. I realized my car
could be parked right out in front of the vacant house; another
thing advertising that I’m the primary suspect. Could my life be
any more fucked?
    ***
    I passed several street corners without learning
where I was, but when I finally hit a boulevard intersection I got
partially oriented. As far as I could tell, I was in North
Hollywood somewhere. I went south on Lankershim until I came to the
Metro. I could take it to within a few blocks of my apartment – if
I had any money. I resigned myself to walking the seven miles to
where I lived. I was hot, thirsty and hungry. My body was fatigued
as if I’d already walked miles, and my mind felt stunned, as if I’d
been whacked in the head with a two-by-four.
    I told myself to try to think rationally as I
walked, blindly stepping into traffic at the next intersection.
    “Yo! White boy! You fi’n ta get yo’sef
keelt!”
    I stepped backwards suddenly as a city bus
whooshed by inches from my face. I tripped when I ran into the curb
behind me and fell, landing on my ass. The old black man laughed as
I added ass pain to my growing list of miseries.
    “Yo mama nevah learnt you to look befo’ crossin
da street? Dayum!” he said, hooting with laughter. When he regained
his composure, he extended an old wrinkled brown hand to help me
up.
    “Thanks,” I said. “I was lost in thought.”
    “Dey be yo’ last thoughts if’n you don’t watch
yo’sef!”
    “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to
say. I certainly couldn’t explain my predicament.
    I stood there numbly looking at the traffic,
willing the pain in my tailbone to subside. Walking was going to be
a lot more painful now. Seven fucking miles of pain until I could
take some aspirin, lie down, and try to figure out what was going
on.
    “Jeet today?”
    “Excuse me?” I asked, turning to look at the
man.
    “Here, take dis,” he said, reaching into his
inner jacket pocket and handing me a Twix.
    At the sight of the candy bar, my stomach kicked
into gear and growled ferociously. I didn’t know when I’d last
eaten. I gladly took the candy from