by Alan Weisz
“But how did you get me to smell like cranberry and what did you show them on your phone?”
Vickie started to laugh, clearly amused with her brilliance as she began to explain.
“The cranberry thing wasn’t really part of my plan, but last night this sophomore bitch I met at this party said she didn’t think I could chug a beer. You know I had to prove that slut wrong, so I pulled out a Mike’s Hard Cranberry Lemonade and started to down it. This drunk fucker ran into me when I was chugging so of course the rest of the beer spilled all over me. I should have taken a shower when I got back to my place but I was too drunk and lazy to wash off the disgusting stickiness. When I woke up there was so much shit going on with the nun’s email, then talking to Hayley and calling you, I didn’t have time to shower. I took a wild assumption that I still reeked of cranberry, so I imagine when I rubbed your hair and patted your arm I might have transferred a little cranberry sauce over to you. It was either that or Dunn was smelling the cranberry scent emitting from my body.”
“As for the phone ordeal,” Vickie said, pulling herself off the desk. “Come over here.”
Vickie steered me to the back of the room where a humongous poster board sat covered in pictures, the heading atop the poster read, “Memories at St. Elizabeth.”
“Do you remember that night we were both really fucked up and we ran into those bitches who wouldn’t stop talking about how much they loved vampire shows and novels?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember how to make fun of them I jumped on your back and pretended like I was sucking your blood even though I was basically giving you a hickie?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I said, letting a laugh escape.
“That night one of my classmates caught us in the act,” she said, pointing to a hilarious picture of Vickie sprawled on my back about to sink her teeth into my neck as I, despite my drunken status, managed to carry out the scene with a wide-eyed terrified expression.
“I uploaded this picture on my phone awhile ago, and when you said on the phone that you needed me, I rationalized that you didn’t need me, but you needed the one thing any suspect in deep shit needs, a good alibi. As a master of technology, I needed but to click on my mouse a few times and, presto! That picture was on my phone with a date and time reading 2:00 a.m. this morning.
“As two intelligent gentlemen of the Portland Police Bureau, I presumed they deducted that if O’Connor had in fact informed you of his crimes or where he was going, you wouldn’t have been able to disregard that information and go get shit-faced with your friends, because who would be that much of an asshole? That’s what I would have thought anyways, and I bet Dunn was thinking that exact same thing after he saw my doctored photo.”
If I wasn’t physically and mentally spent I might have broken down in that moment. Vickie’s brilliance had saved my butt. Technically, it had already been saved, but without her barging in the room, the confession would have taken place and instead of drinking a Red Bull, I’d be awaiting my death sentence.
For the umpteenth time in the past few days, I had no words, which is probably the reason, I couldn’t help but stammer. “Vickie, uhm…why did you…I mean…what was it you…deciding to do that…”
“Wayne, you’ve done a lot of stuff for me and never asked questions, and even though I’m a detailing-gobbling whore, this time I can live without knowing every tiny morsel of information. Everybody gets in trouble now and again. You might be an unstylish douche, but the truth is you’re a good guy and that’s enough for me.”
“Thanks Vic,” I said, smiling for the first time that day. “You’re a flashy, big-mouthed bitch at times, but you’re one hell of a pal.”
Giving me a “Tell me something I don’t know” look as she took a sip from her Red Bull, I was thankful for such a wonderful friend.
I’m not sure how long I sat there sitting in a surreal state wondering when I’d wake up. This had to be a dream. This ordeal had played out too perfectly, as if I had punched in a cheat code. This wasn’t how it was all meant to end. In spite of my dark confidence, I had always assumed I’d wind up in an orange jumpsuit, yet here I was with my golden ticket.
I should have confessed but like a wishy-washy Charlie Brown, once Vickie entered the room I switched sides instantaneously. I suppose I really should be jumping for joy given my miraculous luck but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even sense an ounce of guilt, it was as if the last few minutes were a figment of my imagination. I was still in total disbelief.
Sipping our energy drinks, I glanced over at Vickie’s Beatles shirt and began to recall one of their classic songs, “With a Little Help from My Friends.” I always had this misconstrued notion that the song was more about friendship than love, but what I’d failed to grasp is the association between the two meanings. In many instances, the person you fall in love with is your best friend, and many times your friends become as close as loved ones in your family. They help you in times of need and provide an unconditional love that at times is indescribable.
Thanks to three friendships I had developed over the past several years, I had managed to elude my infamous destiny. It was only through camaraderie and the self-sacrifice of Father O’Connor that I was able to keep my precious life. There was nothing I could do to repay such a kindness, but I sincerely wished wherever he was that he could somehow sense my immense gratitude. Thanks to his decision, our lives had been altered in one fell swoop, mine being for the better.
Despite not getting the chance to talk to Hayley, she had proven her love without uttering the seemingly necessary words. This was a love I surely didn’t deserve, but one I was grateful to have. Like the priest, the previously dreaded ex had saved me and because of that gift I knew I’d forever be devoted to the beautiful blonde.
I’m sure it sounds weird hearing that someone who murdered two people and assisted in killing two more had the ability to still believe in God, but I honestly did. I did believe in fate, karma, divine intervention or whatever you want to call it. I had been sitting apprehensively on the verge of spilling my guts, but someone or something had prevented me from self-sabotage, and it wasn’t by chance that Vickie walked into that room with a plan to save my ass. My three amigos could have revealed my secrets, but instead here I sat, a free man.
Over the previous two days, the one reason I had gotten by was due to having “a little help from my friends” and the only logical rationale I could come up with was that I must still have a few things left to accomplish. Thanks to fate’s good graces, my time wasn’t up just yet. This was my life changing moment, and I was going to make the most of it.