EFFY
It's been almost a month that Freddie's been dead. The only reason that I survived at all is Cook. But now Cook is in jail, and I'm all alone.
My father moved across the country to Sherburne after he found out that my mother was having an affair with a business colleague. Now mum spends her days moping around the bars and drinking herself into a stupor; she's so pathetic. I can barely look at her without wanting to slap some sense into her. I'm tempted to slip some MDMA into her Jaeger while she's not looking. Maybe then she'll smile again.
Because even though she's being a useless waste of space, she took care of me when I was sick. And despite the fact that I can barely take care of myself, it's the least I owe her.
"Hey, Tony?" He breaths into the receiver heavily.
"What's up, Eff?" Of course, he knew about the divorce; he knew about Freddie, too. But he'd never once come back from Uni to visit.
"Tony… I…" I can't think of anything to say. "Just calling to say hi."
"Hi. I got to go now, Eff. Sorry."
"Whatever." He hangs up the phone.
I sit for what seems like hours, staring into space. Wishing that Freddie were here. It's all my fault. If I hadn't gone psycho then I wouldn't have seen Dr. Foster. And Freddie would have never confronted him that day. It's all my fault that he's dead.
I killed him.
I slap my face and run to my room. The only thing that'll help right now is some angel dust. I grab the cigar box out from my closet and pull out a wrapper and the large baggie with a small amount of spliff in it. Then I dash to my drawer and pull out a small Ziploc bag filled with a beautiful tan powder. I sprinkle some weed onto the wrapper, then sprinkle some powder onto the small masterpiece I've created. Then I pinch the ends and roll it into a big fat joint.
I pull out my Bic lighter and light the end. The smell is enticing and I eagerly suck in the smoke. It fills my lungs with satisfaction. I hold it… Hold it… Until I am almost gasping for air. Then I release it slowly, feeling my lungs expand again. And then I do it again. And again.
Now lights are dancing in front of my eyes and I fall back onto my bed.
"It's not your fault, Eff."
The voice makes me giggle. I know it so well I could almost cry.
"Freddie," I groan. "Why did you leave me?"
"What are you going on about, Eff? I'm right here." I open my eyes and roll my head so that my cheek is on my pillow. And there he is, lying symmetrically to me, smirking at me like he used to.
"I hate you, Fred." He winces, then extends his hand towards me. It's moving so slowly, like a slow-motion action shot. His fingers are icy cold as they touch my cheek.
"Don't hate me, Effy. I never left you."
"Stop," I demand. "You're dead." I turn my head away from him and look at my blurry wall.
"I never left you," he repeats, his voice like caramel. "Have you forgotten about me?"
"I could never," I murmur.
"Then do you think of me when you shag Cook?"
A heat bubbles up from my stomach and makes me sweat. "I think of you too much, Freddie. I miss you so much."
I turn my head and see that he's now closer than before, grinning. "I was kidding 'bout Cook." He cranes his neck to whisper in my ear. "Nobody's a better lay than me."
I smile. He's back here with me. He moves his lips from my ear to my neck and kisses it. It is all too familiar. I sigh as my eyes roll back in my head. He kisses my neck, to my cheek, to my mouth, to my neck again, then down to my collar bone. I shiver. I've missed this so much.
"Freddie…" I mumble as he fumbles with my shirt. "Are you real?"
He stops. "Are you fucking me Eff?" He sits up off me, then lies down next to me again. "You couldn't have waited till after?"
"Fred."
"Alright." He's silent for a few moments.
"I love you," I whisper.
"I know," he says.
"I miss you."
"I miss you too, Eff." He sighs.
"So… Are you real?"
"If I weren't real, would I be sitting here next to you?"
"You could easily be a hallucination. How do I know you're real?"
"Well… Let's see. Your favorite colour is gray; you like your toast with both butter and jam on it, your brother Tony was hit by a bus two years ago… Oh yeah, you hate peppers and sometimes think you can read peoples' minds."
"My hallucination would know those things," I say.
"Well, if you are hallucinating… Why does it feel so real?"
"I don't know," I say. It's scaring me that he could disappear at any moment.
"Then let's enjoy it while we can," he says. "Unless you don't want to hang out with a possibly ridiculously attractive hallucination?"
"Always humble, my Freddie." It's silent again.
Then he turns to me again and kisses me on the mouth, but this time I don't interrupt him.
I wake up in the early afternoon feeling groggy. My covers are all tangled around me, and the warm body that occupied the other side of the bed is empty now.
"Freddie?" I call out. I get no response. "Freddie?" I yell. I hear commotion from downstairs. "Fred?"
My door swings open and there stands my mother, the bags under her eyes drooping so low she looks like a basset hound.
"Eff, you okay?"
"Yeah, mum." I sigh.
She stares at me for the longest time before nodding her head. "Okay. Well, if you need me, I'll be with Vernon…"
"Fantastic."
She looks at me again, like she's guilty of something. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it and shakes her head.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says, making an effort at smiling at me.
"Mum."
"I was just going to say that… Effy, you've been so strong this past month, what with the loss of Freddie and your father… I'm just. I'm so proud of you."
I roll my eyes. "Thanks mum."
"I love you." She then closes the door without waiting for my response. A few moments later I hear the front door open then slam shut behind her.
I'm sitting in the old shed with Emily, Katie, Naomi, Panda, Thomas, and JJ. We have met here every day since Freddie's birthday. The McLairs haven't set foot in this shed since that night; Mr. McLair got a new job and is barely ever home, and Karen left to become a ballerina.
I wonder what Freddie would say. He had tried so hard to maintain a relationship with his family after his mother died… Now that he's dead, all that work was lost.
I call Panda over to me. She reluctantly leaves Thomas's side and saunters over to me.
"Panda, can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, Eff. Anything."
I take a few moments to formulate my question. "Since your aunt died, have you ever… Talked with her?"
"You mean like the Sixth Sense? No," she laughs. Then she notices the look on my face and shuts up. "Why, have you?"
I don't respond and stare past her to the picture of Freddie, Cook, and JJ: the Three Musketeers.
Her face falls with a realization. "You haven't seen Freddy though, Eff, right?"
"No." I turn my attention back at her face.
"Because he's dead, Effy."
"I know, Panda." I stare away from her again.
"Effy, we all miss him, even Katie, the girl he left for you."
I nod silently. I turn my attention to Katie, who is talking animatedly with her identical twin sister. It was thanks to Emily that Katie even passed this term. Even though Katie was put off by the fact that her sister was a lesbian, they were closer than ever because of Emily's loyalty.
"Eff, are you okay?"
I nod. "Thanks, Panda."
She looks at me and then nods. I watch her stand up and resume her position next to Thomas.
My phone lights up on the table and I snatch it.
Incoming Call: Private Number
I flip open my phone and press talk.
"Effy." I say bleakly.
"Eff, glad to hear ya!"
"Cook, what are you doing? How are you on the phone?"
"Listen Eff, I don't have long, comprendez? I need you to do me a favor. And quickly."
"Cook," I say.
"No, really, Effy. It's important."
"I'm listening…"
I end up at the police station not even an hour later, sitting in a dark room that smells like mold and waiting to see Cook. The fluorescent light flickers. I light a cigarette. The door swings open and an old haggardly guard approaches me.
"Miss, there's no smoking allowed in this building." I nod, then take another drag.
"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."
"I'm waiting."
"Well, you can quit this shit and put out your fag and keep waiting here, or you can go suck on it outside." His saggy face is turning a harsh shade of red.
I roll my eyes, then toss the cigarette on the floor and stomp on it with the heel of my boot. He opens his mouth to say something, but then the door reopens. Another guard enters, and being clutched in his grip is Cook. Cook is grinning when he sees me, and struggling to be let go of. The guard grunts, but keeps his fists tightly clenched around Cook's arm.
"Hey, Effy!" He says, his face lit up with excitement. "Come here, love."
I hide my emotions as I stand up and walk over to him. The guard has let go of him, but has a steady grip with the way he's staring at us. Cook grabs me by the waist and pulls me close to him. He winks at me, then dives for my mouth. He kisses me so strongly that it seems as if this kiss will be his last, and he better make it count.
"Hey! Keep it clean!" Mr. Cigarette Surveyor grunts, then stomps out of the room. Cook pays no attention to the comment and pushes me even closer to him.
"Hey, hey. This is still a prison, sonny." Cook laughs then backs off to look at me.
"Well, Eff. I missed ya." He smiles like a little kid in a candy store. I stare at him blankly. He then turns to the guard. "Hey! Listen here, me and my girl need some privacy, all right? Is there any way to make this possible?" The guard shrugs and backs away. "I mean, could you please fuck off?"
The guard shakes his head. "I remember being as young as you. I know the thrills of a first love. Now, I'm gonna leave you two here, but I'm locking this door. Don't even try to get out." Cook walks over to the man and punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." The guard nods, then leaves and shuts the door behind him.
The moment the latch clicks, Cook is on me again. He's forcing his tongue into my mouth and basically suffocating me. He grabs my arse and shoves me so close that we're practically one person.
"Cook," I mumble. He ignores me so I say it again. "Cook!" He slows down his kissing, then stops and stares me in the eyes.
"What?"
"I'm here for a reason, remember?"
"Sure, I remember." He smiles dopily at me again.
"Cook!"
"I'm sorry Eff, it's been a while since I've seen you, that's all." He sighs and looks to his left, where there is a large air conditioner built into the wall. "Did you bring it?" He whispers. I open my bag and pull out my Swiss Army Knife. I flip open the screw driver and hand it to him. "Aren't you gonna help me, Eff?"
"No." He shrugs, then goes over to the air conditioner.
"Well, you'll take care of that bloke then, for me?"
I roll my eyes."Whatever."
He starts to turn the first screw until it falls loudly to the floor and rolls towards me.
"You all right in there?" The guard asks through the door. Cook didn't notice it, but I did. I quickly thump my leg against the table and moan. The guard is silent.
"Don't give him any ideas, Eff." Cook warns as he unscrews the second bolt. He's more careful this time and catches it in his hand before placing it on the floor. It's about ten minutes later and my leg is getting tired from the repeated motion of kicking the table. "Right, then. Meet you in the shed then, yes?" I nod as he lowers the air conditioner out of the vent in the wall and then climbs into the air vents.
Once I'm sure he's in the clear, I stop kicking and walk over to the air conditioner. I pick it up and place it back where it belonged, then do my best at screwing in the screws without my army knife; Cook took it.
"Your hour is up, Cook." The guard announces from outside the door. I freeze, then with some quick thinking and fast action with a key, I gauge a gash in my arm and fall on the floor. The guard flings open the door to see me with my eyes closed, bleeding from an open wound. With no Cook. I hear him pick up his walkie talkie and radio in to the other prison guards.
"We have an assault and escape; repeat, prisoner 538920 has escaped!" He then rushes towards me and tries to wake me.
"Miss. Miss, can you hear me? Miss, are you all right?" I slowly open my eyes to his tan Hispanic face. I shake my head and pout. "He left through that window," I say weakly, motioning with my head at the window across the room. "He stabbed me, then ran away!"
"Don't worry, Miss. We'll find him." I frown and close my eyes. I wonder if Freddie would be proud of my acting. A part of me is telling me that he would be so proud. I hear an alarm go off and red lights flash as other guards rush through the hallways. I hope that Cook made it out and is out of their reach. Or do I?
The police interviewed me when they couldn't find him. I refused to tell them anything; they stopped asking because I was "in shock".
"Well, if you see him anywhere, give us a call." I nodded and left.
In the shed, I find Cook waiting for me. He's reclined on the couch, a bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him. He snores loudly.