Giving Shit

For the rest of the week, Edward Julian Watson did not take phone calls from Amy, and Becki did not make phone calls to him. Edward Julian Watson avoided as many phone calls as he could from his mother. But he knew he could not let that go on forever. He would have to call her tomorrow.
Or his mother might get back on the plane. And then get to his apartment and have the landlord let her inside. “Well, I see you’re not dead!” she had accused him. And then she had stayed with him for the next three days and nights and had slept in his bed. And he knew he would have to get a new one after she left or he knew he would never be able to have sex in his room again. When his mother was back home, Edward Julian Watson decided to switch bedrooms too. Just in case.
He did not want to go through that again. He did not feel like moving entirely. Yes, Edward Julian Watson would call his mother tomorrow.
But today he was going to call Amy.
“I was back home at my mother’s,” he told her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“It is now,” he replied.
And they made plans to eat sushi.
And then committed to who-knows-what-else? after that.
Becki couldn’t help but wonder about that, when she tried to call Edward Julian Watson that night.

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson was feeling rather numb. It had been a long, rainy drive home from his mother’s house. The night before had been long, lying awake, in his old room. And Edward Julian Watson also had not eaten anything, since shoving his face full of Double Big Macs from McDonalds the evening before, an hour after getting out of jail.
And now it was evening again.
All of this combined contributed greatly to the numbness Edward Julian Watson was feeling. But his brain was contributing more.
He made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, but even standing over the hot stove did not take the numbness out of his bones, let alone his mind.

Becki was feeling rather numb too. It was not her mother’s mention, during dinner, of, “You look pale tonight, dear. Are you coming down with something?” that made her aware of the numbness she was experiencing, but it was not happening because she was becoming ill.
She knew that putting Edward Julian Watson in jail had been too much.
And she was also feeling terribly frozen because Edward Julian Watson had found her last night, after she left her mother’s house and he had followed behind her, in his car, almost all the way back to her home. Screaming at her. Becki was starting to wonder if Edward Julian Watson was the ill one.
Becki hoped that he would call her. She did not have enough nerve to call him.
Passed-out drunk from Ms. Johnson’s rum, Becki stopped feeling numb around 7 o’clock Tuesday morning. The headache was terrible.

He called her three days later.
“Well, do you have something to say?” He said, not even bothering with hello.
She countered, “Like what, Edward?”
“Like how about I’m sooooory…” Indignation rose in Edward Julian Watson’s voice.
It was the wrong thing to say.
“What do you want me to be sorry about, Edward?”
“You know what, Becki. I could have been having an emergency. A car-accident or something-“
“It could have been the case, Edward” Becki was agreeable, “but we both know it was not.”
“I have you figured out, Becki. I understand you.. You’re jealous. I know you want to marry me and-“
“I want to marry you? I am jealous of…-?” Becki asked
“Yes, you want to marry-“
The calmness of her voice suddenly surprised them both. “I want to marry you, Edward?…..Are you fucking kidding me ?”
When Edward Julian Watson did not answer her quick enough, Becki hung-up the phone on him.

And Edward Julian Watson knew a few minutes later that he had approached the conversation in completely the wrong manner. But because she had not said sorry to him, he was not going to call her back after she had hung-up on him.
So then Edward Julian Watson got back on to thinking, ’Well, what if there had been a car accident… or something?’, until he caught Orange looking at him. The kitten was sitting inside one of his running shoes. That’s when Edward Julian Watson realized he wasn’t feeling numb anymore. Because that’s when Edward Julian Watson simultaneously realized that Becki probably wouldn’t care if he died in an accident…or something and that Orange was not sitting in his shoe, he was pissing in it.

Giving Shit

Later on, Edward Julian Watson was sitting in a jail cell and the local police force was ignoring his pleas to use the telephone again. He had tried to use it several times, but when he had picked up the receiver, there was no way in hell he could bring himself to dial his mother’s phone number. Edward Julian Watson should have just called a lawyer.
Because now he was in a honest state of crazy. He jumped up from the bed and went to the bars. “Come on, guys. Let me make a call! You know I haven’t yet!”
And the officers in the lunch room laughed. They had been laughing at him for the past three hours.
“Everybody sucks! You’re all jerks!” Edward Julian Watson.
Jimmy popped his head out the door and yelled, “Shut-up, tough guy, or I’m gonna go arrest me some bikers to throw in there with you!”
Edward Julian Watson sat down, cross-legged on the floor and thought about smashing his head off the floor. It was almost lunchtime. Maybe he would go on a hunger strike. Maybe he was gonna sue the badge right off that stupid nigger cop too…
Nobody offered Edward Julian Watson lunch.
But they finally did let him the chance to make another phone call. An hour and half after he had shut his mouth.
And Edward Julian Watson called for Becki.
“You did this to me. Now you need to get over here and make them let me outta here. Hurry, Becki.”
And Becki replied, “I do not know what to tell you, Edward. I really don’t want to.”
And Edward Julian Watson hissed into the phone. “Quit acting like a mother-fucking princess and get your ass down here now, Becki. This is not funny anymore.”
And Becki knew it was not. But her senses were offended by his hash words. Becki said nothing.
“Becki…are you still there? Becki…Becki….oh, do not have hung-up! Oh, jesus…”
And she could not help but laugh at his anxiety.
“Come on, Becki,” he said, “I have to go home and feed Orange.” He knew it work.
Becki walked six blocks over and Jimmy let Edward Julian Watson out of jail. But she did not stay at the police station and when Edward Julian Watson figured this out, he drove the side roads that took her to her home. But he never found her.
So Edward Julian Watson went to his mother’s and spent the night.

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson arrived to pick-up Becki at 10 p.m. He was supposed to be there between 2 and 3 in the afternoon.
At 8 o’clock that evening, Becki had told Ms. Johnson, “Just tell him I went out.”
And Ms Johnson did as requested, always willing to keep her tenants satisfied.
“Sorry, sir, but Becki is out,” she informed Edward Julian Watson.
“If you just let me go up and knock the door to her room, I know she is home,” he wanted to convince.
But Ms. Johnson just shook her head at him. “I’m sorry, sir. There are no visitors in the rooms after 9 p.m.”
“But you see, she is spending the weekend with me. This is how I know she is not out.” Edward Julian Watson was becoming indignant.
“Oh, no, sir. Becki went out with a nice boy tonight. His Daddy is a banker and his shoes and his hair were so shiny. Oh, and so was his smile! He dresses real well too. Appropriate. Not like yourself, sir. Can I ask why you wearing a black man’s shirt?”
“I-” Edward Julian Watson began and then said loudly, “She’s ignoring me! I know she is! She does this!”
“No, sir,” Ms. Johnson assured. “Tonight Becki went out with a nice boy. Clear outta here.” And she closed the front door on Edward Julian Watson’s nose.
Becki had been listening from the top of the stairs, chewing off her pink nail polish and her eyes had been growing damp. She knew Ms. Johnson was telling the story of what she hoped for Becki’s future.
Becki was feeling love for Ms. Johnson.
Even if it was her Mother’s vision too.
And Edward Julian Watson, well, he was making his way back out to his car. He was swearing and he up for a fight. He wasn’t clearing the hell outta anywhere.

It was such a sunny morning and when Ms. Johnson pointed towards the window, Becki could not see out it at first, even though she barely opened the curtain.
But yes, she finally saw him. There was Edward.
“I noticed he was still out there about 3 in the mornin’. Scared me a bit and thought I’d get out the shotgun, ’til I noticed he’s sleeping.”
“He still is.” Becki affirmed and after a pause, “Ms. Johnson, let’s call Jimmy.”
And Jimmy smiled through the telephone. “Why Ms. Johnson, you know I’d do anything for you. Even leave church on a Sunday. Let me talk to the girl.”
Then Jimmy put on his hat and kissed his wife and left. He parked his car a house down from Ms. Johnson’s. He made big displays about sneaking up the driveway and over to the car because he knew Ms. Johnson was watching him. Both women were and they were giggling. Becki covered her mouth with her hand.
Jimmy made monkey faces at Edward Julian Watson, before he knocked on the window and waited for him to wake-up and roll it down.
“May I see your license, sir?” Jimmy asked.
And Edward Julian Watson was already fumbling into the back pocket of his pants, before the words were out and he handed the card over.
“Have you been here sleeping in your car, since last night, sir?”
“Yes, but-“
“Haven’t ya been here long enough now, sir?”
“No.-“
“Yes.”
“No,” Edward Julian Watson was going to explain. “I have driven from-“
“Sir, you cannot stay here any longer.”
“Yes, I have come here to see-“
“It does not matter, sir. Time to clear outta here.” And Jimmy rapped his knuckles on the roof of the car.
“She is ignoring me! I know she is! She does this!” An excitable Edward Julian Watson.
“Sir, can you get out of the car, please?”
And Edward Julian Watson did what he was told. Instead of just agreeing to go.
And slap went the cuffs and Edward Julian Watson thought, … what the fuck- and Jimmy was whispering in his ear, “You got a real nice car here, sir. Too bad Leroy’ll be comin’ to tow it.”
Jimmy was laughing.
And Edward Julian Watson was yelling, “WHAT?!?! WHAT?!?”
And the police officer asked, “Sir, do you want to calm down and get the hell outta here now or not?”
And Edward Julian Watson, he said, “No.”

Giving Shit

She could not smell the gin.
She could not taste the gin.
She could feel the gin and the slow burn down to her belly every time she took a swallow.
She looked around the room and noticed her half-read Emily Bronte. She wanted to be like her.
Just like a man.
Maybe, if she were just like a man, maybe then she could forgive herself for wanting to do this. For allowing her heart to be part of this.
And then she threw out the thought completely. Stupid, men are always right; therefore, never in need of forgiveness…
“What is the matter with you?” Her mother asked her twice through dinner and Becki had been Emily Bronte then. Stone-faced, she had stone-walled her mother’s questions and asked others.
“Mother, are those new shoes?”

Edward Julian Watson had let the cold water run hard and fast earlier, so he could make juice, and now much later, he was trying to fix the kitchen faucet. The big drops of wet that had continued to hit the sink, interupted his reading now, but had not bothered him, in the least, on his way out the door for a run. Or when he returned home and watched Conan the Barbarian for the second time that day.
Looking into the living room, he noticed Orange sitting atop his copy of The International Jew.
“You better not be pissing on that, Orange!” He yelled into the next room. “I’m reading that!”
But Orange did not respond to him. Did not even look his way.
And Edward Julian Watson did not know how to fix a faucet.
So he lined the sink with a whole roll of paper towel.
He said, “Take that, bitch!”
And the sink did not respond either.
Edward Julian Watson went back to his reading.

It was a miracle she could still stand on her feet. Working all day long at the bookstore, and then walking all the way to mother’s and then to her home. And with all this drinking…What was she thinking?
She was not thinking about being in Chicago; midnight the next night.
She was thinking: Maybe Mzzz. Johnson would like a drink.
So she grabbed her bottle and went downstairs to the porch.
And they laughed and they drank and she cried.
But she woke-up Friday feeling fine.

And Edward Julian Watson was feeling fine too. Styling and smiling in the hallway mirror, he snapped his fingers, before pointing at himself.
Edward Julian Watson was wearing a yellow and purple-striped golf shirt.
And he and Amy were having breakfast together.
And breakfast turned into lunch.

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson loved Sunshine Travel. That was the name he had choosen for his new shop. He loved to say the name out loud. He would say it over and over again to would-be vacationers. And would he say it to himself in the mirror all the time.
There was really no one else to talk to. So it is a very good thing Edward Julian Watson loved his business.

It was evening on Friday and Amy was not caring for much. When she paid for her things at the pharmacy checkout, a little red sign told her the candy bars were on sale. Two for a dollar.
So, she figured she could short the cable bill five dollars that month and she bought herself some right away.
She sat down on the bench, just outside the store. She ate a Snickers bar first.

“That’s a lot of candy bars,” Edward Julian Watson said out loud, as he walked out the pharmacy doors, but more to himself about his own bag of goodies.
Amy thought otherwise.
“Do you want one?” she offered.
And later he asked her, as they fell into her bed, “Do you have AIDS?”
And she laughed and replied, “No, baby, just candy.”

Edward Julian Watson was speaking to Becki by 11 o’clock that night. A common occurrence.
And Edward Julian Watson told Becki he would be going on vacation this coming weekend.
Of course, Becki wanted to know where. She asked him.
“I am going camping.”
And Becki inquired, if it would be with Bob and Edward Julian Watson affirmed the negative.
And he blurted, “With Amy.”
Becki was apparently abrupt, when she changed the subject. “And how is Orange today?”
And Edward Julian Watson watched Orange sitting and glaring at him, from the other end of the couch; edge of arm, for a good thirty seconds.
“I am just joking, Becki,” he said, “You’re coming to Chicago this weekend.”
Becki laughed, when she answered him. “Is that so, Edward?”
“It’s really about time,” he replied.

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson bought a kitten.
And he regretted it badly, while he was walking home from the pet shop, arms full of expensive cat food, scented litter and the orange box containing the orange cat, that Edward Julian Watson had decided to name Orange. He regretted buying the animal because the sounds coming from the box appalled him. The cat sounded like a human. A small one dying and scared. It kept scratching at the box.
Edward Julian Watson could not get the sight of Jessica McClure out of his mind.

Three days went by and Edward Julian Watson still felt lonely.
The kitten did not like his new home.
And neither did Edward Julian Watson.
He seldom ever saw the dumb animal. It spent all its time under furniture.
In whatever room he was not.
He never heard it make a sound.
But apparently his neighbour did. She opened her door, when he was getting into his.
“My god, the scratching and howling….What do you have in there?”
“I’d tell you, if i ever see it,” Edward Julian Watson said, as he went inside.

“I bought a kitten,” he told Becki, holding the telephone in one hand and a pen in the other. Edward Julian Watson was supposed to be working the books for the business.
“I love kittens!” Becki sounded excited in his ear. “Do you love your kitten?”
“I love my kitten, ” Edward Julian Watson lied.
“And someone bought your old TV shop, I see,” she went on.
And he said, “Becki. You would love Chicago.”
And she laughed, but not loud. “Do you miss me, Edward?”
“Kinda,” he said.

Edward Julian Watson climbed into his bed at three in the morning. He was so ready for sleep. He felt so nice and warm under the covers.
And then Edward Julian Watson smelled shit. He sniffed the air twice to make sure.
Yep. Shit.
“I don’t like you, Orange,” Edward Julian Watson said out loud to a cat that did not care.
And then he thought, Oh my god, I am soooo tired.
But now he could not sleep because he smelled shit.
“Fuck.”
He noticed his stick of deodorant, in the red glow from his alarm clock numbers. And the idea quickly formed.
He rubbed the deodorant underneath his nose.
And then Edward Julian Watson went to sleep.

Giving Shit

Besides being scared that he was losing his hair, Edward Julian Watson also feared other things.
Small rodents, microwave ovens and typically, death.
But most notably, Edward Julian Watson was scared of his wife.

She called, one fine day, at a blissful 7:30 in the morning.
Edward Julian Watson was waking up with Linda and the sex had been good the night before. But because he was waking up with Linda and it was not at his house, he did not hear his telephone ring or his answering machine come on.
At 8:30 in the morning, Edward Julian Watson heard the message his wife had left him, while he was adjusting his tie, almost ready for his day.
His wife was asking to meet him for lunch.

When Carissa had walked away from their marriage, it had came as a terrible surprise to Edward Julian Watson. He believed his wife loved him.
She said, “I never see you. You run your stupid shop and I bust my ass for school. You love TV and I love books.”
“Alright,” he had replied. And he had wanted to say, “But…” But she was already closing their front door. From the outside.

Edward and Clarrisa Watson had seperated after only three years of marriage.
The last time they spoke, she had called him pathetic and worthless. He had shrugged it off. Edward Julian Watson knew he was worth plenty.
The last time they spoke, she reminded him that he was everything her father had ever called him. She said to him, ‘Daddy always said you married me for the money’, and Edward Jilian Watson had not denied it.
The last time they spoke it had been on the telephone and he could not believe she was being honest with him; that she hated him the way she said she did.
Afterall, Edward Julian Watson had not gone to law school because his wife had.

They met at the diner across from his work and Edward Julian Watson ordered their lunch. A cheese burger and fries for him and a salad and water for her. When they were done eating, she asked if he ever missed her, to which he answered yes.
She wanted to know why.
“Mostly the sex,” Edward Julian Watson replied.
She glared.
That is when he told her he was moving to Chicago and that he would be opening his own travel business. He even ventured, “Do you want to come?”
And she replied, “What? Mommy won’t pay?”
Edward Julian Watson had enough money to do it on his own, but he did not tell his wife that. Instead, he said, “I get laid three times a week. What about you?”
And her eyes opened wide. “Fuck you,” she seethed at him, before she pushed herself away from the table and then walked herself out of the diner.
Edward Julian Watson laughed. Maybe she would finally give him the divorce.

Giving Shit

By eight o’clock Edward Julian Watson had slept off his plane ride and he had watched The Facts of Life. When 227 started, Edward Julian Watson decided he did not want to sit at home for the night.
No, not at all, he thought.
He drove his blue Datsun over to Maple Street and called on Becki.
The negro woman, who owned the house, opened the door and said, “No visitors allowed upstairs after nine pee emm.” She went upstairs herself to inform Becki of her visitor, raising her green skirts and leaving the door closed on Edward Julian Watson.

“It is going to be hot tomorrow.” Edward Julian Watson made small talk with Becki.
But he was thinking of other things. Like about the lunch he was having with his mother the next day. And how much he did not want to go.
And Becki was sitting on the porch next to him just sighing. “Edward…I tell you all the time I avoid weather reports, so I can wake-up each day surprised. Why do you insist on telling me this news all the time?”
And although he did not care for the tone in Becki’s voice, he asked her anyway,” Would you like to come to lunch with Mother and I again tomorrow?”
“Alright,” Becki said, “but can we go get coffee now?”
Edward Julian Watson was suddenly tired again. He looked up to the night sky. He thought the clouds surrounding the half moon looked like a witch and her one eye.
He sighed. “Alright.”

“You remember Becki, Mother.” Edward Julian Watson let Becki slide into the booth first.
Becki rolled her eyes at Ms. Watson. “Lillian, I have brought you a book. I think you will like it.”
And Becki did an almost-fantastic job of keeping Edward Julian Watson’s mother occupied. That is, until they were waiting for the bill. His mother suddenly turned on him. “Edward, you were joking about selling the television business, I would assume?”
“No, Mother. I am not joking.”
“This is just another ridiculous idea-“
“Mother, you have no say in the matter-“
“I have plenty of say. My money is what got you started in the television business. And a lot of it.”
“I do not recall you signing anything.” Edward Julian Watson was almost sneering at his mother.
“Just your life insurance policies, do not forget those, Edward.” Lillian replied.

Giving Shit

“Are we going to be spending the night there?” she asked Edward Julian Watson. She blurted this question, as if it had come out of nowhere.
Putting his chin in his hand and shrugging his shoulders; all with such seriousness, he asked, “Do you want to?”
“It’s up to you, but you need to let me know.” She looked away from his face.
“Alright.”
“Alright what?” she asked, looking up towards him.
“Alright we’ll stay,” Edward Julian Watson had decided.
And Becki was suddenly nervous.

The next day, she found the number for the highway hotel. She dailed that number and made the reservation.
And Becki was calm.

When the night and the day was almost done, they went to the hotel to check in.
Becki smiled and said her name to the short, dark man bulging behind the desk. He looked at her oddly. He tapped his whole hand on the top of the reservation book, before he pointed a finger at her. “I know you.”
Becki smiled at him and she winked quietly. “Of course you do, Manny.”
“You owe me money.”
“What?” Becki stepped back.
“Yeah,” he waved his finger faster and started shaking his head. “You owe me money.”
“What?” Becki asked again. “I owe you…what?”
“Money. Lots of money. You lived her for free!”
“I lived here for free? What?”
“For free! You lived here for free! I know who you are. It was a long time a go, but I know who you are. You owe me like three thousand dollars.”
“I what?”
“You owe me…you owe me three thousand dollars!”
“I owe you three thousand dollars? For what?” Becki asked.
“I told you-you lived here for free!”
Becki looked over her shoulder and she smiled at Edward Julian Watson. “Run”, she said.
And Edward Julian Watson’s eyes bulged, but the rest of him stayed motionless. “What?” he aked.
Turning to face him and starting to laugh; all with such seriousness, Becki repeated, “Run.”
And so they did. Back to the car.
“It’s time to get out of town. Let’s just go to your place.” She was still laughing.
And Edward Julian Watson decided again. “Alright.”

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson had enough. He was going to quit the television business.
He decided this on the airplane ride back from Jamaica. It had been his first vacation in eight years.
Yes. He was quitting the television business and Edward Julian Watson was going into the travel business.
He told his mother, by telephone, when he arrived home. He had promised to call her first.
“I am going into the travel business,” he said.
“Oh, I see,” she replied. “And the television business?”
“I am quitting it.”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “You are being stupid.”
“Well, I made it home safe, Mother. I will see you for lunch tomorrow.” Edward Julian Watson ended the conversation.
He told Bob three days later.
I am going into the travel business,” he said.
“And the television business?” Bob replied.
“I am quitting it.”
“You’re firing me, man?”
“Not if you want to move to Chicago. Hey, buddy, close up the store tonight. I am going to leave.” Edward Julian Watson ended the conversation.
“Who ya seeing tonight?” Bob wanted to know.
“Just Becki,” Edward Julian Watson said, leaving the store.

A week later, Becki was at the doctor’s office.
“You’re joking, right?”
The look on Becki’s face made the doctor want to lie to her. But the Socrates in him could not allow it. “Unfortunately, no I am not. I am sorry, Becki.”
“We can clear this up?”
“Yes, Becki, we can clear this up.”
While the doctor explained how, Becki did not listen. The doctor handed her a pink pamphlet. “Do you have any question for me today?”
“No,” she replied.
“Perhaps you will, after you read the pamphlet.” He handed her a prescription. “Come see me next Wednesday.”
On her way out of the office, Becki walked through the waiting room. She saw that other woman, Julia. She was sitting in one of the green chairs, with her hand in her lap and wearing very much the same look Becki herself had worn only twenty minutes beforehand.
Becki noticed the dark brown hat on Julia’s head. It made her think of the green one she was wearing.
And then she knew.
Edward Julian Watson had given her head lice.
Becki’s pharmacist was located across the road from where she worked and she wandered and wondered slowly, on her way over there. She noticed the big red-lettered signs Edward Julian Watson had put up in the windows of Star Television.
GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE!
THIS MONTH ONLY!!

Giving Shit

Becki could not believe her eyes, to see Edward Julian Watson standing in front of her, when she looked up from keeping the books. Not ten minutes after meeting up with him. And that other woman. Julia.
He rang the little silver bell, anyway.
“May I help you?” she asked and the fact she did not want to was very apparent on her face.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Her eyes went to the books, to conceal her further disbelief. “Quit asking stupid questions,” she replied.
“Fine,” he stated, “How are you?”
And she did not care about her eyes any longer. She looked at him and said, “Please, quit asking stupid questions.”
Edward Julian Watson told her fine again, as he turned to walk away. “Since we are still on for six tonight, I will see you later.”
Becki’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Edward Julian Watson made it out the front doors of the bookstore, before she could close it again.

Edward Julian Watson pulled quietly into her driveway and cut the engine to the Datsun.
Becki said nothing. She listened to the engine tick; as it cooled down.
“Can I come up?” he asked, in his happy voice.
And Becki replied, “I do not think so.” But when she reached for the door handle, the car suddenly came back to life.
“Let’s go for a drive then,” Edward Julian Watson said, still just as happy.
“Fine.” Becki slouched back into her seat and folded her arms across her chest. She stared out the window, as Edward Julian Watson drove down the empty, midnight streets, aimlessly.
“I am going to call your mother tomorrow,” Becki spoke finally, but did not turn to look at him.
And Edward Julian Watson voice was incredulous. Alarmed. “What for?”
And Becki finally smiled.

Giving Shit

With his mouth, on her nipple, she could feel the sensations to all of her upper body. When her back arched up in reaction, this worked only to further her breast into Edward Julian Watson’s mouth.
And this sucked for Becki. It tickled far too much for her liking.
But she would not complain. She had not told Edward Julian Watson she would prefer if he touched her pussy first.
So Becki just pulled Edward Julian Watson’s big head back up towards her mouth, and kissed him again.

Becki turned out the lights, before Edward Julian Watson was even down the stairs. Then she went to her chest of drawers, opening the top one and slid her hand into the back and beneath her undergarments. And when she heard Edward Julian Watson’s blue Datsun start up and pull away, she walked over to her window and she opened the it. And the night air was warmer than she had expected. She took a cigarette from the paper packaging and she lit it. She stared at the tops of the trees and the moonlight and the stars.
“What the hell was that?” she finally asked herself out loud.
And Ms. Johnson,from below, said “Girl, I do not know what the hell anything is most times, but things I do know right now is that you got a cigarette up there and I know too, that I told you about smoking in your rooms when I rented to you. So I think you better get on down here and share that with me.”

Giving Shit

Friday at Almost 6 p.m.

The high school has a basketball net.
It was the first thought Edward Julian Watson had, when his eyes rested upon the basketballs stuck in the large cage. Edward Julian Watson was in the sports department of the K-Mart.
What Edward Julian Watson really wanted to purchase was a pair of kneepads. He liked to wear them when he scrubbed his white kitchen floor.
So, Edward Julian Watson bought a blue pair of kneepads, along with a basketball. He was the last person to leave the store; an employee, of some-sort, locking the door behind him.
Edward Julian Watson threw the kneepads, towards the couch, when he walked into the front door of his house, and Edward Julian threw on his sneakers, immediately after.
He had not played basketball in a good five years.
Along with his sneakers, Edward Julian Watson also wore a what-the-fuck-does-Larry-Byrd-have-on-me-? attitude, when he ran back out his front door, towards his blue Datsun.

Edward Julian Watson approached the driveway, on South Street, where the high school was located. The driveway leading into the parking lot that only teachers were allowed to park in.
There was a chain along with the tar, breaking up the fence and grass, preventing him from entering school grounds. A big chain, with a big lock. Edward Julian Watson decided to go around the block, to the back of the school, where there was another enterance.
A minute later, Edward Julian Watson was putting his car into park and jumping out. To look at another fence; face puzzled. He sighed. This fence was twice his height.
Perhaps the science geeks have nuclear weapons inside, he thought to himself.
He looked all up and down, side-to-side, along the wire.
And then thought to himself:
What would Larry Byrd do?
Edward Julian Watson went back to his car, to shut it off, sliding the keys into his pants. He made the throw, with the basketball; it landed over the fence. He hauled himself onto the fence, and Edward Julian Watson climbed. Using his elbow, when he was near the top of the fence as a hoist. Small barbs were embedded on the top of this fence, in fact, tearing Edward Julian Watson’s shirt. And his elbow. Despite the damage, Edward Julian Watson, did indeed, make it over the fence and onto the ground, without further incident. Edward Julian Watson had long legs, after all. Quite admiral Edward Julian Watson could climb a fence at all, considering he was wearing his work clothes.
Edward Julian Watson was also un-decent, while he had carried himself over and onto high school property. “Fuck….shit….what the fuck….fuck,” he sputtered like boiling water.
“That’s quite the mouth on you, sonny,” said the voice, before Edward Julian Watson noticed the body attached.
.And what a body, he thought, while he chuckled outl loud. Touched his elbow.
“There is a hole in the fence, down beside that bush, you know?” the tanned woman, in pink sweat pants, pointed with one hand; her other holding a can of pop.
Edward Julian Watson chuckled more. “What are you doing here?”
“I run the track. What are you doing here?” she tossed back.
Reaching down, Edward Julian Watson grabbed onto his new basketball, tried to spin in on his finger.
And failed miserably, doing so.
The woman chuckled then, too. “How about some one-on-one?”
“Sure,” Edward Julian Watson shrugged. “I am Eddie. Who are you?”
This made the woman laugh more. “I am Kim. It is nice to meet you Edward.”
Kim took a drink, from the can of Dr. Pepper.

Giving Shit

Earlier That Day

It was eleven-thirty in the morning. Edward Julian Watson always woke up on Saturdays, at eleven-thirty in the morning.
Edward Julian Watson was in a white bedroom.
It was Edward Julian Watson’s bedroom.
Edward Julian Watson had a elbow-ache because he was on the bed, in his white room, and it was a white room because Edward Julian Watson had not painted it. He rubbed his elbow and that is when he noticed he was wearing the same clothes that he had on the night before. Then, he noticed his watch on the pillow beside him.
Edward Julian Watson could taste the grit on his teeth, soured salsa and hamburger.
“I have to go,” Edward Julian Watson said, out loud.
“Okay,” his body answered him, weary and aching as he upped himself onto his carpeted floor.
Edward Julian Watson always met Bob for lunch, at noon, on Saturdays.

Becki was running through the downtown streets, the same streets she walked everyday to work. They sky was grey and there were bricks everywhere; the building material of a downtown. Trees reached to the skies. She looked down to make sure her white sneakers were still laced. Not that Becki was much of a runner. She would run, only when she woke-up feeling groogy. Only on weekends.
Becki hated running.
But she did love the things she saw on her run, including the outdoor display of lovely and bright red apples, stuck in-between the lemons and the lettuce, at Mr. McGregor’s grocery store.
“These apples are of the lovliest red, Mr. McGregor,” Becki said to him, when she purchased three of the bright pieces of fruit, and as Mr. McGregor placed them into a clear plastic bag for her.
These lovely and bright red apples helped Becki fall, when she dropped them, not too long after she started running again.
Flat-legged, landing on the sidewalk, Becki grabbed at her ankle, when she heard a voice in front of her question, “Becki? Oh, my God. Are you okay?”
“I think it is my ankle,” she said. “These apples tripped me.”
“I will save you from those evil apples!” Bob said. “We can take refuge from them in my apartment. It is right here, right above Jenson’s, where the brown door is.”
And when Becki smiled at him, Bob just jumped right over to her and hoisted her right up over his shoulder.
She was so unprepared for such, she could not help but laugh.
“Bob, put me down,” she asked.
And of course, Bob did not put her down, instead carrying her over and through the brown door and up his green stairwell, to his apartment, with the green couch.
And because when Bob, who lacked the skills of the caveman that she called him, went to place her onto his green couch, Bob did not mean to bounce her onto it with such sloppiness. Or have her ankle bounced off the his white tiled floor.
“Becki-“, he said.
“It is okay,” she said, and nodded at him.
“I will get you some ice,” he said.
Okay. Thank you, Bob,” Becki replied.
Bob flipped on his stereo, on the way through, to his kitchen

Wohoh, Black Betty, bam-e-lam
Wohoh, Black Betty, bam-e-lam
Black Betty had a baby, bam-e-lam
Black Betty had a baby, bam-e-lam…

came through the speakers and it was not Ram Jam singing.
The knock on the door startled Becki, but the door actually opening startled her more.
“Holy fuck, Bob, I have been waiting for like ten minutes down-” Edward Julain Watson stopped, when he noticed Becki, on the couch, apparently keeping Bob occupied.

Giving Shit

Later That Day

Edward Julian Watson took things for granted.
Edward Julian Watson was on his way home from Saturday lunch, driving in his blue Datsun. The oil light was on, flashing red.
Edward Julian Watson would stop at the gas station, close to home, he thought, as he ploughed through the streets.
But the gas station close to home was closed and he did not understand why. The gas station was always open.
So, Edward Julian Watson just drove his blue Datsun home.
And watched the baseball game on the television.

Becki was standing staring at the bank teller. In her yellow skirt.
“I cannot give you advice on this,” John, the man behind the desk, said to her, as he handed her the green folder back; fast.
“Thank you, anyway” Becki smiled up at John.
“You deserve some help,” John replied. “I will call over to the main branch. I am sure they can help clear this up for you.”
And Becki smiled at him, again.
But she wondered what it was she was so deserving of this help? She wondered if it was important; whatever she had done? And why was it so deserving, that it deserved this nice man going out of his way for her?
Becki just stood there in front of the bank teller and Becki just plain wondered what she had done.
And she did not hear John clear his throat.
“Are you okay?” John’s voice finally broke through her thoughts.
And Becki smiled at John, one more time, but it was weak.
“I would be, if you could tell me what is the most important thing to be okay about,” she answered, as she handed him back the green folder and added, “You might need this.”

The oil light was flashing red still, as Edward Julian Watson pulled his blue Datsun out of his driveway. It was 1:30 at night.
Edward Julian Watson was going to see Becki.
After he parked his car on the stone driveway, and after he had grabbed a few of those stones from the driveway, Edward Julian Watson cut across some grass, to the side of the house, where Becki’s window was.
He threw the stones at her window.
But Becki never came to the window. Edward Julian Watson had thrown five stones, so Edward Julian Watson cut back across the grass and he got into his car.
He noticed the flashing red oil light.
Edward Julian Watson would stop at the gas station, close to home, he thought.
But the gas station was still closed.
So, Edward Julian Watson just drove his car home.
And watched the baseball highlights on the television.
Edward Julian Watson had the suspicion that Becki had been home; ignoring him.
Again.

Giving Shit

Earlier That Day

It was ten-thirty in the morning. Edward Julian Watson always woke up on Sundays, at ten-thirty in the morning.
Only Edward Julian Watson was in a blue bedroom.
And Edward Julian Watson usually slept in a white bedroom.
Edward Julian Watson had a headache because he was on a bed, in a blue bedroom and it was a blue bedroom he had not been in before; at that. He rubbed his temples and that is when he noticed the crumpled green dress on the floor. Then, the rumpled, red hair and white pillow beside him.
Edward Julian Watson could taste the grit on his teeth; sour rum (the real reason for his headache).
“I have to go,” he said, out loud.
“Okay,” said the red hair; the red hair that did not move.
Edward Julian Watson always woke-up at ten-thirty in the morning on Sundays because Edward Julian Watson always met his mother for lunch at noon.

Becki walked through the automatic opening door that brought her into the mall. Dim lights and brown, glossed brick everywhere. Plants reaching for the sky lights.
Becki looked down to make sure her white shoes were still white. She smoother her yellow skirt. Then Becki looked around. There were corners to this mall and on one of the corners, Becki noticed a Flower Shoppe.
Becki loved flowers.
The Flower Shoppe had a lovely display of fresh cut tulips outside of its doors and Becki was looking at the tulips, when she noticed Lillian walking down the mall’s brown paths towards her.
“Lillian,” Becki said, loudly and smiled, when Lillian was within earshot. “How are you?”
Lillian stopped and looked at Becki.
“Oh-” Lillian said. “Oh, you are Becki, from the bookstore. How are you, dear?”
“I am good, Lillian. It is nice to see you.”
“It is nice to see you, too, Becki. I have been meaning to come out to the bookstore. Aren’t these tulips lovely?”
“Is that so? Is there anything I can put aside for you” Becki smiled, at Lillian. “They are beautiful tulips. I am thinking of getting the white ones for my mother.”
Lillian looked at Becki out of the corner of her eye, and she said quietly, “Do you have the new Jackie Collins still in stock?”
Becki smiled and picked up two bunches of flowers, “I think I will get these pink tulips for you, Lillian.”
“You are a very nice girl,” Lillian nodded her head and further said, “Thank you.”
And Becki smiled again, and as she turned to walk inside of the store, Becki almost walked into Edward Julian Watson.
“Oh-,” she said.
“Oh-,” said Edward Julian Watson and then he cleared his throat and looked passed Becki. “Hello, Mother.”
“Hello, Edward. How are you, dear? I have been talking to Becki. You know Becki. She works next door to your store. At the bookstore.”
Edward Julian Watson nodded, “Yes. Hello, Becki. How are you?”
“I am good and how are you, Edward?” Becki asked.
“Good,” Edward Julian Watson replied, and then he looked at his mother.
“Becki is coming to lunch with us today,” Lillian said.
“Oh-” said Becki.
“Wonderful,” Edward Julian Watson concluded.
Edward Julian Watson still had a headache and Becki would keep his mother occupied.

Giving Shit

Later That Day

Edward Julian Watson took things for granted.
Edward Julian Watson was on his way home from Sunday lunch, driving in his blue Datsun. The oil light was on, flashing red.
Edward Julian Watson would stop at the gas station, close to home, he thought, as he ploughed through the streets.
But the gas station close to home was closed and he did not understand why. The gas station was always open.
So, Edward Julian Watson just drove his blue Datsun home.
And watched the football game on the television.

Becki was standing at the meat counter. In her yellow skirt.
“I gave you an extra half-pound,” John, the man behind the counter, said to her, as he handed her the package of cooked ham; wrapped.
“Thank you,” Becki smiled up at John.
“You deserve it,” John replied.
And Becki smiled at him, again.
But she wondered what it was she was so deserving of? She wondered if it was important; whatever she had done? And why was it so deserving, that it deserved this extra half-pound of meat?
Becki just stood there in front of the meat counter and Becki just plain wondered what she had done.
And she did not pay for the ham.
“Are you okay?” John’s voice finally broke through her thoughts.
And Becki smiled at John, one more time, but it was weak.
“I would be, if you could tell me what is the most important thing to be okay about,” she answered, as she handed him a five-dollar bill.

The oil light was flashing red still, as Edward Julian Watson pulled his blue Datsun out of his driveway. It was 10:30 at night.
Edward Julian Watson was going to see Becki.
After he parked his car on the stone driveway, and after he had grabbed a few of those stones from the driveway, Edward Julian Watson cut across some grass, to the side of the house, where Becki’s window was.
He threw the stones at her window.
But Becki never came to the window. Edward Julian Watson had thrown five stones, so Edward Julian Watson cut back across the grass and he got into his car.
He noticed the flashing red oil light.
Edward Julian Watson would stop at the gas station, close to home, he thought.
But the gas station was still closed.
So, Edward Julian Watson just drove his car home.
And watched the football highlights on the television.
Edward Julian Watson had the suspicion that Becki had been home; ignoring him.