The Drugstore Cowboy by Patrick Nietupski

 Everett lay with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.  Stephanie lay asleep, wrapped in his arm.  Everett couldn’t explain why he had confided in Stephanie, he simply did.  Maybe it was that she had such a pretty smile to go with her long, dark hair.  Her eyes were so inviting.  Everett had told himself a thousand times that he didn’t love her, but for some reason he always came back.

Stephanie had been in Everett’s life for a little over a year.  They had met in a bar where Everett was busy being a third wheel.  He used that charm he’d used on a hundred women, but instead of leaving the next day, he stayed and came to visit Stephanie increasingly more and more.  She was cute and playful.  It was hard to explain what drew him to her, but maybe that was part of the attraction.

Tonight though, Everett had been a little distracted.  He had something on his mind.  After he and Stephanie had had a little fun, he decided to talk to her.

The evening up until then had been pleasant.  Dinner at the Via, next a little dancing, followed by drinks and then back home into bed.  It had hardly bothered Everett the entire evening.  That was nice, Stephanie always seemed to make him forget about what was going on in the outside world.  When together, if it wasn’t in front of him, Everett couldn’t tell it had ever existed.  He never worried with Stephanie.  She was like a drug he could take that left him feeling so serene.

Tonight, however, she had worn off a bit too early which led Everett to open his mouth.  At first Stephanie tried to bat away his attempts at a potentially grave conversation with kisses and sweet nothings, but eventually she caved and let Everett speak his peace.

When he first opened his mouth, Everett had no idea how to begin.  Cotton mouth started to creep in turning his mouth into a desert.  Each second felt like a miniature eternity.  Finally after pondering in infinity for long enough, Everett decided to open with a question.

“Steph, have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

“What the hell?”

“I’m just asking.  I have this buddy, Chuck, and I think he’s being toying with the idea.”

“What do you mean, ‘toying with the idea’?  What’s he said?”

Her voice was too sweet.  Even as they began talking about Chuck and his problems, Everett began to feel fine.  He stumbled over his next few words for half a moment, then began:

“Well I was in his bathroom the other day and it is filled with a lot of those orange prescription bottles, you know?  And he was telling me that he was thinking about going to buy a gun.  Maybe he’s been taking drugs and, I don’t know.”

“Oh Everett,” she gave him a big squeeze, “you worry too much, I think.  You do know that people take prescriptions every day?  Maybe he has a lot of allergies or something?  I take allergy medication.  And owning a gun is a constitutional right.  I’d be more worried he was going to shoot somebody else rather than himself.  I don’t know him, that’s just what I think when I hear talk about guns.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she kissed his shoulder, “if you’re really worried about him, confront him.  Ask Chuck if he wants to kill himself.  And if he gives you a detailed plan, go get help.”

“Steph, have I ever told you that you’re a genius?”  Her intoxicating effects had again put Everett at ease.

“No, you haven’t.  But it’s been much over due.”

Giggling, Stephanie gave Everett another squeeze and rolled onto his stomach, “Now, where were we?”

That was that.  Now they lay in bed, Stephanie fast asleep.  Everett mulled over and over the brief conversation in his head.  It was comforting.  For a brief moment, Everett and Stephanie had connected on a plane they never had before.

The morning came and Stephanie departed with a hug and kiss.  Everett was fortunate to have the day off and spent it thinking about Chuck.  By night, he had figured a way to confront his friend.  He was glad that he had Stephanie.  He’d always enjoyed her company and now it seemed, that she could help him every now and then if he had something big on his plate.

At five Everett poured a glass of water and opened a drawer.  In it were a few of his own prescription bottles.  He grabbed the one labeled “valium” and, swallowing the tablet, waltzed down the stairs to the bathroom, water in hand.  Leaning on the sink basin he drank, surveying the bath.  It was a nice bath tub with a shower attachment.  The material was a mock marble.  Everett speculated it was linoleum, but he honestly had no idea what bath tubs were made out of.  It could’ve used a bath of its own.  There was grout, or was that grout stain?  Whatever it was, it was dirty from years of washing away dirt.  After he finished his water, Everett placed the cup on the basin and looked into the mirror.

“Hey Chuck,” he began, “listen, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m worried about you.  You aren’t planning on killing yourself are you?  ‘Cause man, that’s the coward’s way out.  You can get help, it’s not hard.  Yeah?”

He sounded almost unconvinced.

He pulled open a drawer.  The inside was riddled with empty orange tubes, buried beneath which was a note, and a nickel plated six-shooter.  Everett looked back into the mirror, confusion and fear etched onto his face.  He whispered.

“Chuck?”

Stephanie was a little annoyed that Everett had left his jacked with his wallet inside her car.  Only a little though.  He was a pretty nice guy and she liked him for what he was.  He was rugged, but gentle, and always a lot of fun.  She supposed it was better Everett leave his stuff in her car on his day off than her having to drop it off before work.

As she made the turn down Everett’s street Stephanie brought her car to a halt.  There were two police cruisers and an ambulance outside of Everett’s house, their lights flashing.

When Stephanie got out of her car, a police officer asked her to stay back but she pushed forward.

“He’s, well, he’s my boyfriend.  What’s going on?”

The officer grabbed her arm, “You may want to stay here ma’am.”

A stretcher rolled out of the front door.  Resting on top of it was a black bag.  Stephanie gasped as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“All we found was this next to him,” the officer handed Stephanie a small piece of paper, the bottom right corner stained red.

The note read:

I am a coward.

Copyright 2009 Patrick Nietupski, All Rights Reserved.