Darwin's Gaps

Evolution: Consecutive Substack Story 1120

Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash

His heel rested on the coffee table with Push the Platypus. The heel had a ripped blister on it.

Connor Ellic knew he was purposely torturing himself.

He was nine days clean though he had walked out of rehab after seven.

On the table next to his foot was Ellen Mazza’s 27 dollars.

After she left he didn’t want to talk to anyone for 30 days.

Anyone but Push the Platypus.

He got Push as a gift when he had his tonsils out at eight years old.

Couldn’t remember why he named it Push. Couldn’t believe he still had it.

All the chaos, the moves, the trying to outrun the addiction, the car accidents, the furious wives and more furious ex-wives, the guns and the cocks in the mouth, both unwanted but warranted under the circumstances.

Ellen walked in.

She had a sweet smile for someone who hated him.

She was empathetic, not that it meant anything.

Ellen grabbed the money and Push fell over.

Connor, silent, leaned up and righted him.

“Your last friend?” Ellen asked or said. Connor couldn’t tell.

“He taught me to sew,” Connor said.

“You high?” Ellen asked. Connor was certain she asked.

“If I was you wouldn’t be picking up money from me.”

She nodded, agreeing.

“G’luck,” she said, and the screen door slammed behind her, no little hydraulic gizmo to slow it.

Connor picked up Push.

He sliced Push open to hide his cigarettes from his parents when he was ten years old.

Couldn’t stand seeing the blue and yellow plushy with his guts cut open, sewed him back together.

Sewed stuff for his mom, his sister.

When they asked why he taught himself to sew, he shrugged and told him he was bored.

But Push knew.

He pulled Push off the table and reclined on the sofa, a little spot of blood on the coffee table where the blister had been.

If he fell asleep now,snuggling Push, he’d make it to ten days clean.

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