A Failure on My Behalf

hey yo what’s this? an author’s note? SWEET.

Okay, so I feel like I have to talk about this, being the whole reason this story even was thought of was because of him. So - respect, you know. Though, whenever you’re reading this, I know this little section is going to be so…outdated, for the lack of a better word.

As annoyed you may be of hearing these types of things. I have to say it. I’m pretty sure a lot of people know that on the first of November, 2012, Mitch Lucker got in a car/motorcycle crash and died. He sang for a band called Suicide Silence. Cool band that I’m more than sure saved a lot of lives.

Along with a shit-ton of fans, he left behind his bandmates, family, a wife and a five-year-old daughter - who the character Frehley was based off of. I was even actually going to name Frehley ‘Kenadee.’ I did; it was the first name I thought of, but then I changed it to Paisley and then now Frehley after my friend’s cousin.

It’s just so unreal to me - still. It happened - from the time I’m writing this - almost two months ago (and the time I'm editing it, almost a year) and I still can’t think about anything related him without wanted to bawl my eyes out. I can’t imagine what it’s like for those close to him.

Anyway, I just wanted to say he’s the whole reason I decided to write this story, and that it’s really fucked up that he had to die at such a young age and leave so many behind, especially a little girl. ugh.

Alright, back to the story.

-

So Shelton ditched me for a ‘date’ with Bethany over an hour ago, and now I’m left to watch Frehley actually kick ass at Mario Kart - well…until a banana peel just fucking appeared out of nowhere and landed right in front of her vehicle thing and she whipped out, saying something in gibberish which I’m more than certain was toddler for ‘fuck.’

She yelled like a Viking and picked up her empty Welches juice box and threw it at the TV.

True gamer girl right here.

Seven opponents zipped passed her, moving her from third place to -

There was a knock at the door.

Instead of getting up and answering it right away, I wondered who it could’ve been and if I really wanted to know that bad. I thought my mom maybe, but she would’ve called. Then David and all them, and that seemed likely. But then I heard from the other side, a familiar voice say a horrid name.

“Megan, stop licking the wall. You’re disgusting.”

I could feel my stomach drop. I really didn’t want to see that little creep. Or have her in my house. I knew that if I let her in here, she’d be leaving with several of my personal belongings stuffed in her shirt.

There was another knock. Frehley’s head faced towards the door then back to the TV.

“Someone’s here,” she said flatly.

I suddenly became very aware of how loud the TV was and I instantly wanted to change that. I sunk back into the couch, hand groping around for the remote only to have it nowhere to be found. I sat up quickly, eyes zipping around for it, and found it right next to Frehley. I ‘gently’ dug the tips of my toes into her side, quietly snapping at her, “Hey, turn that down.” Best to just act like I wasn’t home.

She bent forward towards the TV, pushing the wrong button, the Power button. The TV blinked off and she cried out “WHAT THE HECK, MAN.”

THE REMOTE WAS RIGHT THERE, KIDDO. WHAT THE HECK TO YOU.

I quickly hopped off the couch, hand clamping over her mouth. “Hey, let’s be quiet.”

“Why?” she asked, trying to move my hand away just as they knocked again. “Someone’s here,” she said again, then looked up at me. “Are we trying to avoid them? Are we pretending we’re not home again?” Heh. Not like we do this all the time or anything.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Can I still play my game?”

“If you’re quiet. Can you do that?”

She nodded “Yeah.”

“Okay.” I leaned forward, one finger on the volume button, the other hovering over the Power button. I pressed down on both and the TV switched on, the volume decreasing quickly. She thanked me and I pushed my back up against the couch, praying they had left. But curious as to what they wanted.

And then something terrible happened.

My phone rang loudly.

Jag sang, “INSTEAD OF FIGHTIN’, YOU SAID ‘YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN.’ IT’S BETTER THAT I GO. I MAY BE BLINDED; THE CHANGE IS PROOF WE’VE GROWN. IT’S FOLLOWS ME WHERE I GO, ME WHERE I--”

WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?

I took a shot and ripped one of the blankets off the couch, desperate the find it and make it shut up. And praise the Lords, there it was.

“I FOUND MY CHANCE TO LIVE AGAIN--”

I snatched it and swiped the Ignore icon away.

Ahh, relief.

I dropped my head onto the couch and felt like crying. I didn’t feel like interacting with anyone today - not even myself. That was a close one.

And then - oh no.

A little voice. A little voice that echoed one coming from the other side of the front door.

“Hello?” it said.

Fuck no.

I dreadfully pulled my phone towards my face. I was ten seconds into a call from an unknown number. GOD DAMMIT. Apparently I don’t know how to hang my own phone up that I’ve had for two years.

Despite no reply, they continued to talk. “Blake? You there? It’s Liz - uh, Other Liz. Are you home? I kind of need a favor.”

I could always hang up now. But - gah. She needs something. Something I don’t think I want to do. Something that may involve Megan; I just know it. But hopefully not.

And for some reason I decided to answer her.

“Uh, yeah? Are you outside my home?”

She let out a tiny laugh. “Yeah, that’s me - and Megan. I need you to do something for me. It’s kind of important, I guess - can you answer the door?”

Didn’t want to, but - blagh.

“Oh, heh. Sure. Sorry about that.”

I sluggishly got up to answer the door. I yanked it open to a smiling Other Liz and Megan.
Time to lie.

I made sure to hang up this time, sliding my phone into my back pocket. “Seriously sorry about that. I thought you were my friend David. He’s been pissing me off lately so I was trying to avoid him.” Since that was partially true, I felt confident that she’d believe me, and it looked like she did.

“Ah, been there.” She smiled hugely, yanking Megan back when she tried to make her way to the couch. “This isn’t your house,” she snapped at her. “Show some respect.”

Megan grumbled something mean under her breath. Hmm. She’s being strange. She’s not...flirting. Thank God?

Other Liz sighed at her, then smiled up at me again. “So,” she started, “like I said, I need me a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Alright, so as you can see, Megan’s here and I kind of forgot about that - again. And so, thing is, I forgot I had to work tonight, but her mom really needs a babysitter, so I can’t bail on her…with her knowing…”

See, no. I don’t want to. I already know what she’s going to say.

“And…you want me to babysit for you?” I finished for her, hoping that I was wrong and she had just come over here to share that lovely story.

Her face lit up. “Oh, would you? That’d be great. You’d be helping me out a lot. Really.”

Just being an obnoxious, poor asshole, I joked, “I’ll be getting paid, right?”

And of course she fucking would, she smiled all flirty-like. “Oh, you’ll be getting something.” What’s-her-face, being the well-aware nine-year-old she is, knew what she meant and groaned.

“Oh, I’m the gross one?” She snorted disdainfully.

“Yes.” Other Liz feigned like she was holding back a punch meant for, uhm, Megan. “You’re a million times worse.” Ooh. The sassy comebacks with this one. -_-

They went on to bicker at each other with lame retorts until I stupidly reminded her as to why she’s here. She was like, “Oh, right,” and thanked me a crap-ton of times, told me what time she got off work, and then left me to die.

Megan waltzed her way passed me, taking a look around the place. “Posters of bands I’ve never heard of, Audrey Hepburn paintings, a Wii, furniture covered with blankets.” A smile appeared on her face as she nodded favorably. “Cool.”

I appreciated her knowing Audrey Hepburn’s name, but could really care less at how she felt about my apartment. Nonetheless, I still thanked her for recognizing how cool I am and that it was noticeable just by looking at my living room.

“So, uh,” I started to ask what she felt like doing, sitting down in my recliner, but she interrupted me.

“Who’s this?” she asked, no sign of curiosity in her voice, staring at Frehley who seemed to care just as much as I did about Megan’s presence. Megan looked back at me. “Sister?” she guessed.

wtf no. Why is that everyone’s go-to identification?

“Uh, daughter, actually.”

She tilted her head to the side and just looked at me with eyes slightly big with more questions. “Adopted?”

I huffed some more air out of my nose than usual as an offer of a laugh and said, “Biological.”

She continued to stare, reminding me vaguely of most adults’ responses when I tell them who ‘this child’ is to me. “You’re kidding,” she mused in disbelief.

Becoming annoyed with her inability to accept such a simple fact, I got up, heading for the kitchen. Why is it so hard to believe? She joined me seconds after I finished this monolog: “Nope. You can run a DNA test; one-hundred percent mine. Can I get you something to drink?” I asked in an attempt to seem like I cared, opening the fridge. “We got Propel, orange juice, Sunkist, and…” I searched for anything more. “…and that’s it.”

She had seated herself at the dining room table. She still looked skeptical. She opened her mouth and I knew what was going to come out wasn’t her preferred beverage, so I sighed. I got a singular red solo cup from dish-strainer and tapped it against the countertop, getting her attention.

“We’re done with that conversation,” I said, “and have started a new one. Add to it or shut your mouth. The only words I game to hear you say are either yes or no, and if yes, tag on one of the drinks I previously mentioned. Can you do that?”

I don’t know where all this anger towards her is suddenly coming from. Maybe I’m just grouchy I have to spent time with another earthling. One that, like many, can’t seem to grasp that, yes, I have a daughter, so what?

That stupid crooked smile formed yet again. She waited a few seconds before pushing out a disgruntled sigh. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Good.” I put the cup back where I got it from, going back into the living room. She trailed right along. “You can either play Mario Kart with Frehley, watch, or watch something on the TV in my room.”

“Where are you going?” she asked when I didn’t go back to my recliner, but towards the bathroom.

Getting a towel from the hall closet, I said, “Shower.” I was looking forward to spending as little of time with this annoying child as I could.

“Oh,” she said, but then began to smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“I’d mind that very much, actually,” I managed to say as unnerved as possible, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me, instantly falling against it.

I can’t feel my legs.

WHAT A LITTLE CREEP, but I was pretty badass back there, you gotta admit. I’m surprised Frehley isn’t throwing a bitch-fit right now, but apparently if she’s distracted enough, she barely notices anything - and I forgot clothes to change into.

GOD DAMMIT.

Well, I hope she’s not circling the hall, waiting for me to finish, because she might see some stuff when I jog out there in only a towel.

I could always just put the clothes I’m wearing back on, go to my room and change into something else.

Okay, good plan.

So yeah, I did the normal procedure to showering: you know, turn on the water, undress, and get into shower. But as I was mid-showering, I heard a faint knock at the bathroom door. I assumed it Frehley had finished playing and realized I wasn’t there and was on the other side to get me back out there with her now.

Wiping the hair conditioner off my forehead to stop it from entering my eyes, I called out over the running water, “Yeah?”

No response.

So I said a little louder, “What?”

Still no verbal response. Just a creaking nose, which I immediately recognized as the bathroom door opening. I froze and - sorry about this TMI - grabbed my junk, turning my back to the wall as a way of hiding anything I didn’t want seen.

You know that ringing sound you hear when no one’s talking or you’re alone, and if someone enters the room that ringing sound changes and you can tell you’re not alone anymore? Well, that just happened.

I refused to peek through the curtains and see who was now in the room with me, fearing it might be Megan, being a creep. But she wouldn’t go this far, would she?

As quickly as it opened, the door closed. And I knew whoever it was had left the room, because that ringing sound changed again, back to the way it was before they creped in.
I still refused to move. I stayed in the same position for thirty more seconds before getting enough courage to stick my head - the one connected to my neck and shoulders - out and check around the room.

It didn’t look like they had done anything noticeable while in here. I hopped out of the shower and locked the bathroom door. No way in hell they’re getting back in here while I was.

I finished my shower when the water ran cold and turned it off, stepping out. I was prune-y as fuck right now. I believe I was in there for almost an hour. Frehley must hate me right now, but I haven’t heard a cry out of her -…what if Megan killed her? For like a satanic sacrifice? I’d believe it.

I started to grab my towel off the floor but wasn’t able to because it wasn’t there.

You know what also wasn’t on the ground? My clothes I wore earlier.

Like Drake and Josh, I seethed, “Megan.”

What
a
fucking
creep.

Did she really take the only towel and my clothes? She just killed my daughter and now this? Oh, hell no.

I was ready to march out there and cuss her out, but then realized she’d probably enjoy it because I wouldn’t have anything to cover up with considering she took everything.

I opened the bathroom door a smidge and peeked through the crack to make sure she wasn’t lounging out right there. She wasn’t. I stole a look at my bedroom. The door was slightly open. I was prepared to dash out and into my room but then remembered I told Megan she could watch something on my TV which was in there. What if she’s in there?

“Megan?” I called out, hoping for a response, and got one. That was (un)fortunately from the living room.

I’m not joking when I say I heard feet hit the wooden flooring and sprint down the hall, connected to a smiling Megan. So I guess I could’ve bolted for my room; she was in the living room. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, hands locked to one another behind her back, her no-good smile set in place.

“Yes?” She took a moment and perched on her tippy-toes, obviously trying to look in the bathroom. I hid behind the door, pushing it a bit more shut. Her grin grew. “Are you naked?” she asked and I wanted to knock her out. It seriously took everything to keep from screaming.

“Did you take my towel and clothes?”

She failed at hiding her smile, continuing to sway. She shrugged innocently. “Maybe.”

“Why?” I asked through clinched teeth, continuing to play this ‘one-worded-response’.

“Because I wanted to.”

UGH. I just wanted to hit her.

“Well, go get them - now. I am not playing this stupid game. Get me my clothes, a towel, anything or I’ll tell Liz and she’ll tell your mom.”

She actually laughed. “My mom won’t care. She’d be proud of me for being so bold.”

How to respond to something like that was not in my arsenal of snappy comeback, so I went with, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Well, screw you.” I slammed shut the bathroom door and locked it, because I had a feeling she’d try to get in. I suddenly remembered we had little hand towels you dry your hands off with under the sink.

I ignored the awkward feeling of bending over in the nude and got a stack of four out. I unfolded one and held it up to examine how big it was.

Eh. This is should cover something - and that’s when I saw it. A glimmering sign of hope.

My phone.

It was resting under a package of baby wipes.

OH PRAISE THE LORD.

I grabbed the bitch and fought the urge to make love to it. I thought of calling Other Liz but remembered I didn’t have her number…and then I remember she called me earlier, so I do have it.

I was still in the recent calls, so I clicked on her icon, then the messaging icon. If what’s-her-face was still out in the hallway, she’d hear me calling Other Liz and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

But…agghh. She’s at work. She doesn’t get off til eleven tonight. (It’s seven now.) If she did answer, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave work four hours early, and what would happen when she got here? She’d tell Megan off and then what? She’d have to either take Megan home and ruin Megan’s mother’s plans or ditch work and watch her. She wouldn’t be happy with either one.

I could always text my Liz. She’s been out with what’s-her-face for hours, wth. And that I did.

To: Shelly-Shelt
From: Me
---------------------------------------------------------
(1/3) oh my god I need your fucking help.
You know the girl Other Liz baby sits?
Well, I’m babysitting her now and I
just took a shower and guess the fucking
fuck what. (2/3) She snuck in here while I was
showering and took my towel and clothes
and is refusing to give them back.
Be a dear and get back home now please
and drop kick the (3/3) bitch?
---------------------------------------------------------

Ugh. I really wanted to sit down, but yeah, no. Naked bum sitting somewhere that’s not a bed? A bit uncomfortable.

I never got a text back. But what I did get - ten minutes later, mind you - was a S.W.A.T team knock on the bathroom door, scaring the fuck out of me, and the angelic words, “Hey, man, it’s Shelton. Open up. We got the twerp back over at Bethany’s place.”

I wanted to rip the door off its hinges and fling myself onto her, but remembered I ain’t got nothing on.

I stuttered out, “U-uh, I totally would, but, uhm, she took my clothes, remember?”
There was a long silence from the other side and then she said, “Oh, yeah. Hey, man, fine by me. You’re trying to tell me we’re not as close as I thought we were? Well, alright - ahh, I’m just joshin’ ya. I got a towel for you.”

I slowly open the door a tad bit and she shoved her arm through the openness, a beautiful, beautiful towel in her grip.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, yes.” I grabbed it, immediately wrapping myself into it. “Thank you so, so much.” Once I made sure it was secure, I yanked open the door and engulfed her in a hug.

She wheezed out a laugh and that should have been my first sign that I was hugging her too tight. “You’re welcome. I just hope you know I gave up sex for you.” We broke our embrace.

“Really?”

“Yup. We were legit about to do it when I realized you texted me. As a way you can make it up to me, you gotta tell me this whole little story again. I have a feeling you left some stuff out.” She flashed a winning smile.

“Oh, you would not believe it. She’s such a creep!”