Rot

My real name is Alexis. Freakin’ Alexis. I don’t know what my parents could have been thinking. Actually, I suppose when they named me, they were hoping for a freckled face little girl who would wear dresses and curtsy, and grow up to love make up and clothes and help in the kitchen. Well, they got some of it. I had freckles, I wore make up, and I could cook without burning the kitchen, even if there was some close calls.

Anyway, my parents named me Alexis, and I shortened it to Alex as soon as I was old enough to know better.

Now, my name didn’t really matter to me, because Haley and Adam seemed to think that nicknames were best served randomly, frequently, and with a hint of confusion.

Haley had woken up Adam shortly after the sun went down, and while I was sure he was still at least a little drunk, he introduced himself formally, with an apology for his previous state.

He began drinking the bottle of wine that he had left sitting on the table almost instantly, but this time, he offered some to me. I accepted and took a gracious swig, because my mom thought I was at a friend’s house and my friend’s wouldn’t really care. I’m sure they’d have something they’d rather be doing, anyway.

The wine, cheap and sour, settled in the bottom of my stomach with a warm feeling, and I thought briefly about the alcohol content. Was it safe to get drunk here?

I handed the bottle back to Adam, who was sitting across from me on Haley’s bed, both of us cross-legged. Haley was on her computer downstairs, trying to make the “perfect playlist.”

“Every moment deserves a perfect soundtrack,” she had said before disappearing out the door.

Now, it was Adam and I alone, unless you count the bottle of Red Cat that he was taking down in gulps.

He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his long, thin shirt when he was done, then offered it back to me.

“I don’t think I should…” I said, my voice trailing with obvious hesitation.

“C’mon, Sugar Foot, drink up,” he said, pushing the bottle my way.

That was nickname number one. I probably wouldn’t have taken the bottle, if it weren’t for that distraction. He continued to call me that until Haley came back upstairs, plugging her iPod into its speakers with a bit of discontent showing on her face.

“I couldn’t come up with a playlist, because I don’t even know what this moment is, or what your even doing her,” she said, gesturing to me, “so we’re gonna wing it.”

She sat down with us on the bed, and grabbed the bottle for a second. She smelt it, winced, and handed it back.

“Not. For. Me.,” she said.

“I know,” Adam replied, “It’s for me and Sal over here.”

Nickname number two.

The rest of the night was a blur of nicknames and information, like the fact that Haley and Adam grew up together and are best friends. They said they tried to kiss when they were, like, twelve, but thought it was disgusting and vowed to never kiss each other again. I learned that Haley was always the Designated Driver, and Adam was, as Haley called it the “Designated Disaster.”

I also learned that Haley liked to go to bed very early, and Adam, aside from scattered naps, hardly ever slept.

“Tell me a story,” Adam said suddenly.

It was completely silent in the room at that time, with the lights off and Haley sleeping silently between Adam and I on her bed. My head was buzzing from the alcohol, and I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t drunk, but then I’d think about it again and realize that I was.

“What kind of story?” My voice was barely a whisper, a common symptom of a quiet, dark room.

“Any kind.”

“I don’t really have stories.”

“Tell me a fact,” he demanded, his voice at its normal level.

“Um, did you know your heart pumps two thousand gallons of blood through your body ever day? That’s, like, enough to go around the world twice. If it was gas, I mean.”

“Interesting. Did you know that The Titanic was the first ship to use the S.O.S. signal?”

“Show’s how well that worked out,” I muttered, but I heard him laugh.

It was a good laugh. Light, but full, if that even makes sense.

“Did you know that Colgate means ‘go hang yourself’ in Spanish?” I asked.

Random facts were my specialty.

Laughing with his hands on his stomach, he made a comment on how well that would work out with advertisement, and then grew quiet after he was done.

I was about to spout a random fact, when Adam interrupted me.

“What do you think about the most in moments like this? I mean, lying in bed, staring at a dark ceiling. Forget that you’re not alone. What would you be thinking?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’d probably just be thinking about my day.”

“That’s it?”

“And my future, I guess,” I said, unsure of whether I should be having this conversation or not.

“Well, I have one thing to say to you, little missy. Fuck the future. Get rid of the idea of it, because it doesn’t exist.”

“I guess you’re right, but it will exist, eventually.”

Sitting up with a serious look in his eye, he spat, “Prove it.”

“I…I guess I can’t.”

“You’re right, because you can't be sure you're future will ever come. You've probably got lots of happy little plans. I’m sure dying’s not one of them, is it?”

“Well, I know I’m gonna die, but-“

“Bullshit. Bullshit. Okay, I guess you know you’re gonna die, but you don’t really accept it, or even realize it. What if I killed you right now, and ruined all your precious plans?”

“That would suck?” I said, unsure and becoming a little anxious.

“Oh, fuck it. I just went on a tangent. I just don’t believe in thinking about your future, because it’s not even there. You’re wasting precious present time.”

“Everyone thinks about their future. It’s human nature, and it’s not always bad.”

“You’re right. You wanna know what I’m gonna do in the future.”

“What?” I asked, not really curious, because the aggressiveness of his tangent was starting to bug me, yet his startling revelation brought me back into focus.

“I’m gonna end it,” he deadpanned

“End what?” I asked in reply.

“I’m gonna end this stupid fucking world.”