Showers

Sifting through the trash, Trevor calls out from behind a wrecked a cough. He complained most ferociously about the smell of it, and I couldn't help but agree. This place stinks. If a decaying dog were wrapped in bacon and baked in an oven, it would be a nasal shot of Febreeze in comparison to the state dump.

"Ralphie, I found a Polaroid of you." My ears perked as the sound of indifferent confusion came instead of increasing aggravation. My glasses were sliding off my face slowly from the sweat. Hot days are not dumpster diving days.

"A Polaroid? Like old-school photos?" I start clambering up the steep hill of garbage. I reach the top in a sweat.

"Yeah, and there's other stuff here, too! Wow, sweat much? Don't wear yourself out Harry Potter. Anyway, there's a card game in here, a couple stuffed animals, and... Pokemon cards? What are you, eight? Do you even still play it?" The sound of Trevor's yelling must have caused some attention at the office building by the gate; a red pick-up truck is heading towards us.

"First off, yes, I adore Pokemon to this day and I play it constantly. Don't judge me. Secondly, why is the security people coming this way? They never drive the red truck around unless they need to talk to someone. Think we were being too loud?" I pointed towards the vehicle as it bounced along the dirty, filthy trail, dust floating off into the wind behind it. Trevor drudges up to get a better look.

"Too loud? The seagulls have been louder than we have. I don't know why they're coming this way, actually. Aaron said we'd be cool until close. I still need to get supplies for my art class. I'll... uh, I'll talk to the truck guys." Trevor zipped up his red hoodie and starting strolling down the trash pile towards the trail. He had thick pink string spiderwebed in his blonde hair.

"Yeah, you go deal with them. By the way, I like how you said 'supplies,' like empty ramen cups and beer cans could hardly be considered 'supplies.'"

"It's an inspirational piece about the poor life of a grad student!"

"No, it's trash glued together to make it look prettier and called 'abstract art' to make it seem more appealing. By the way you have shit in your hair." I pointed at his head. He clumsily removed the flamboyant entanglement.

"Thanks... but I don't think you 'get' art, ya know? You gotta look beyond that nasty, smelly, and probably drippy exterior and find the 'meaning' behind it."

"Whatever, dude." The red truck had come to a complete stop at the bottom of our mountain, palming the horn a few times, and signaling its arrival. It must be important. "Your buddies are here."

"Great." He seemed so enthusiastic about seeing them. I could tell by his apathy and lack of respect for authority. Trevor is a playboy disguised as a hipster. He writes the songs, paints the paintings, and builds the sculptures all for one thing; the women. He is good at what he does though. "Hey, put what we already have in the back of my truck."

Trevor signaled me with a thumbs up. I proceeded behind the blue couch to find what on Earth he was talking about. Why are there pictures of me in a statewide dump? Am I being stalked? I'm probably being stalked.

I round the couch to see a black trash bag that's been torn open, an old scratched up Polaroid lying on top. I moved closer for a better look. When I saw those eyes, those beautiful eyes. Elizabeth Hensley was right, I'd see her again.

The last time I saw this girl was on a Sunday, and then never again. I always wondered what happened to her. We sat at Starbucks. I ordered my usual as did she like we'd been doing for months before then. I forget what the argument was about but I remember her last words being "Oh, Ralphie, you'll see me again! And you won't be happy when you do!" and she stormed out, vanished into thin air.

No one tells you how hard it is to stay mad at a lady whose eyes are pair of jewels, no matter how angry she is at you. You get lost too easily. That was the hard thing about Elizabeth. She was made of bitch, testing limits for about 3 years, just to see.

I was devastated but after a few drinks and a few good times with ol' Trevor, I was a merry swingin' bachelor. There were times where I'd miss her dark red hair, freckles, way her left front tooth kinda curved in too much, overlapping her other front tooth. I remember hating that hair though, and those spots, and her teeth.

That was 2 years ago, the Starbucks incident. I haven't talked to her since. I've always hoped she was well. I dug deeper into the bag, found her Pokemon deck, which always smeared mine. I think she cheated. I also found this card game she loved.

The point of the game was to figure out what all the things had in common on the card. They were usually puns. For example "Fire, Semi, Pick-Up" was "Trucks." Get it? She got it. And she had it down too. She was stumped on a couple ones but never wanted to know the answer. She was too prideful to know.

"Why would she throw this out?" I dug deeper into the bag. Its contents were mostly clothes, picture frames, and a few stuffed animals. Maybe she was growin' up? I don't know, but some of these things, I know she loved. Her snowman plush? She loved that little guy, she's had him since she was seven. Why would she throw these things away?

I looked closer at the Polaroid, my hair was longer, much longer, like to the point it was disgusting. Why did I think that looked good? Long greasy black hair. Ew. I pushed my glasses up my nose for a better view when I saw what looked like someone had taken a key to it. I wasn't surprised by the key marks, it's an old photo, things happen. It was confusing how it was her picture that was scratched out, all that was left were her eyes and parts of her hair.

In the distance, I heard a pick-up truck start and Trever yelling goodbyes over the powerful roar of the engine. I sat and stared at this bag of beloved items. I hadn't seen this girl since she told me I would. Her most prized possessions shoved into a trash bag.

"The guards are shutting down early for a birthday party. What was in the bag?" Trevor began loading the first half of his supplies into the bed of my pick-up.

"A bunch of stuff an ex of mine decided to throw away."

"Ha, memories. Memories are the single most painful thing anyone person could do to themselves. They will think of a memory and feel regret for not having done something or remorse, knowing the good times had will never be had again. And the funny thing about memories, physical possessions, and even life is... well, it's all going to the same place anyway." Trevor chuckled.

"What do you mean?"

"Look out into that sunset, through all these trash piles. Imagine how many more bags like yours are out there. All of it, all those good times and bad times are all going to be coming here eventually." Trevor extended his arm, gesturing towards the vast stretch of rotting filth.

"Wow, that was nice Trev."

"Hey Ralphie? You remember Jason Marcos from high school?" Trevor's feet crunching the garbage beneath his feet.

"Um... yeah, kinda tall. Kind of a dopey, not-going-anywhere kinda guy?" I stood up to see him better, still holding a handful of cards and the Polaroid.

"That's him." Trevor sat on the couch, sweating profusely. "He's dead."

"What?"

"Yeah, offed himself after things got real bad when his girlfriend died." Trevor picked up a napkin from a nearby trash bag and wiped his forehead.

"Dude, that's gross," I said disgustedly. Trevor scoffed. "Who was his girlfriend?"

"Beth Hensley. That chick you dated all through high school." He threw the napkin as far as a sweat engorged napkin can go, almost to the bottom of the hill.

"Beth died?" My knees became jelly very quickly. Something in my chest squeezed a little.

"You didn't know this? She's been gone for about a year now. Car accident off I-44 and Wellman." Trevor saw the sadness slowly envelope my face. "I figured you knew. I mean you guys used to be inseparable."

"Yeah but that was four, five years ago. I figured she would've gone to college or something, not die...." Trevor stared off into the garbage fields as I looked at the Polaroid again.

It took on new meaning now, Jason scratching out Beth's face. Even the trash bag has evolved from a simple bag of discarded memories to a sack of worthless bits and pieces of a former life. I felt some remorse for not being better but I was more grateful for having lived and loved as I had, regardless of how little or much regret I felt looking back upon it.

Elizabeth Hensley, the last time I saw her, told me I'd see her again and I wouldn't be happy. She was right. I'm not happy, I'm blessed. A slideshow of memories played. The carnival, the late nights awake, Pokemon cards, spaghetti, everything came back as if it were the last flashes of life, but they were the last flashes of life. Our life, together. Now that she's gone, it can never be shared again.

Trevor stood and started loading his artistic stash into my truck. I threw the Polaroid into the trash pile, to be buried beneath the memories of others, never to be seen again.

I looked at the cards, chuckling at the answers I still knew, until I came across one Elizabeth never figured out. She didn't want to know the answer so I never bothered to learn it.

"Baby, April, Meteor." I gazed at the card, waiting for it to tell me the answer while I struggled to figure it out on my own. I decided, this one time I was going to cheat, turn the card over, and read the answer on the back.

"Hey Ralphie, we gotta go!" Trevor called as he lumped the last heavy bag into the back of my truck.

"One second!" I shouted as I flipped the card over and read the answer, "Oh, of course!" I chuckled. I scattered the rest of the cards into the dump as I pocketed "Baby, April, Meteor." It's all going the same place anyway, but I still want to hold on to a piece of it for a little bit longer.