Awake

Liam had been sitting up smoking pot, on his own on Saturday night. 

He’d fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, sometime in the early hours. He was dreaming about being lost in some religious cult. “Repent,” or something was being said. The evangelicals were blaring from the flat-screen, when he woke up with a start.

“Ah!”

That's what the lost insomniacs are given a diet of, he thinks, what they get when they are at their most vulnerable, sleep deprived, angsty, looking for answers. It's the state water-boarding gets you too, where you will admit, or accept anything. He objected to them being on late night TV. Keep that American disease in America, he thinks. Surely, old movies are better for the sleep deprived?

It seems the story of the deluded comes creeping at night, like rats. He chuckles to himself

He thinks about watching some porn, but he picks up the remote and switches the TV off instead.

It's Sunday morning, soon to be breaking. The sun would be coming up soon, he thinks.

He had a fight with Ava. It was about something stupid, isn’t it always. He is alone, on the weekend for the first time in, he doesn’t know, how long.

He signed into Facebook, but it was a waste of time, as it has been lately.

It's 5.30am, it’s early. He decides to have one last joint and then head to bed. He could probably get a few hours in before his mate Oliver comes over for them to head out to the gym and lunch and a movie. Ollie wants to see Animal Kingdom, which he described as some degenerate Aussie movie. Ollie was always late, Liam was banking on him being late this morning.

Liam flips the lid of the cigarette packet open and it is empty. “Damn,” he says.

He thinks he should just go to bed, forget about the joint, be cool, but the pot helps him to sleep and he wants to sleep before Oliver rings the doorbell.

He pulls on his hoodie and slides on his NikeAirs. He tries to encourage Gus his lazy bulldog to go with him, but Gus is snoring in his bed and doesn’t want to move.

Liam heads out the front door. He crosses his street diagonally, then he crosses the main crossroad in the same way. He is quickly on the main road that is heading to the convenience shop.

The streets are deserted, just pools of light below the street lights dotted along the footpath.

Suddenly he is wishing he’d bought his head phones, and momentarily he is thinking about going back and getting them, except he is now half way to the shop and suddenly that idea seems stupid.

Suddenly, without any sound, a voice behind him says, “I have a knife, and I will use it, give me your wallet and your phone.”

Liam is startled, and starts to turn around.

“DON’T TURN AROUND,” screams the voice behind him.

Liam had turned enough to see the large silver kitchen knife this guy had in his hand. “Hey man, what are you doing?”

The guy behind leans in close to the back of Liam’s head, pushing his face into Liam’s hair. “My instructions were really fucken clear, give me your phone and your wallet or you will force me to use this knife on you,” says the voice in a quiet, but seethingly menacing tone. “I have nothing to lose.”

“Hey buddy…”

The guy grabbs Liam by the shoulder pushing the blade of the knife against Liam’s neck. “I’m not your fucking buddy.”

“I don’t have a phone, and I only have a debit card in my pocket,” says Liam.

“I don’t fucken believe you!”

“Hey, man, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Be this way! Be this way! Fuck you! Empty your pockets.”

“Sure, no problem.” Liam reaches into his pocket and pulls out his debit card. “That’s it.”

“Empty you other pocket!”

“There is nothing in it to empty.”

The next thing Liam feels is the guy with the knife’s hand slide into his left track pants pocket. “See nothing,” says Liam

“Fuck you!” The guy with the knife pushes Liam hard in the back. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go where?” Liam asks.

“Let’s go to the shop and get money.”

“What?”

“You smell like you have money. Nice clothes. Clean hair. We’ll get some money from the ATM.”

“I’m not getting money out of the ATM for you.”

“YOU ARE NOT EXACTLY IN A POSITION TO REFUSE.” The guy takes a big breath as if to calm himself. “Remember I am the one with the knife. Now start walking and we’ll get some money from your account that you will never fucken miss! Move!” 

The guy pushes Liam in the back again, and Liam starts walking towards the convenience shop.

“Mate, I am sorry life is treating you bad,” says Liam as the two of them walk the deserted street.

“Don’t tell me about my life. You know nothing about it.”

“Well, man, is this what you wanted to do in life?”

“Of course it’s not, what shit are you talking?”

“This is not the way…”

“Easy for you to fucken say, what do you do?”

“What?”

“What do you do, it is an easy fucken question?”

“What do I do for a job?”

“Yes. Nice looking guy, hair smells like perfume, and even your shit clothes are expensive. What job do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Jesus, a fucking lawyer, making money off the misery of others.”

“I’m not that kind of lawyer.”

“A mother and father?”

“What?”

“Do you have a mother and father?”

“Yes.”

“Where your father went to work and your mum, I don’t know, played tennis?”

“She did charity work.”

“She did charity work,” the guy with the knife says with what could only be described as disgust. “You wanna know what I got?”

“Sure.”

“I got a mother that was so fucked up on booze that she never noticed that one of my long lines of uncles was diddling me in night, that’s what I got.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s brilliant, you are fucken sorry. That makes it all fucken better.”

They turn the corner to the front of 7/11.

“There’s no ATM,” says Liam.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Go inside and get me money!”

“What!”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

Liam pushes the doors open and enters the shop. The guy with the knife follows him. 

“Hey man, call the police, this guy has a knife.”

“What?” says the guy behind the counter and the guy with the knife in unison.

“He’s trying to rob me, call the police.”

“You fucken snake,” says the guy with the knife.

He stands and looks from Liam to the guy behind the counter and back to Liam. He genuinely looks confused.

“Police, please,” says the guy behind the counter into the phone. “Hurry!”

“I fucken hate you,” says the guy with the knife. “I thought I could trust you?”

“What?” questions Liam.

The guy with the knife turns and runs out of the shop.