By Patrick M. Fitzgerald
I spent New Year’s Eve picking up my body parts from the sidewalk.
The streets were filled with people. It was dangerous to make my way through the crowd, but I wanted to get to the coffee house to ring in the New Year with some friends. When the old woman staggered towards me, I tried to maneuver out of her path. But she swung her arms wildly—drunk and laughing—as she stumbled against me, and my night was ruined.
I reflexively put out my hands as I toppled over. My palms hit the concrete, and with a hundred tiny pops, the filaments of my joints snapped open. My fingers sprung outwards in all directions, and the shockwave up my arms caused the rest of my joints to come undone.
Fortunately, my head had landed facing my torso, so I could watch what I was doing as I shimmied my torso to my upper arms. I wriggled my upper arms over to collect my forearms, then inched them toward my fingers, wincing as a heavy boot narrowly missed my thumb. I’d learned from twenty-two years of practice that it was easiest to start with my largest parts. Squirming my fingers to my hands like inchworms took too much time and concentration.
Thankfully, most people were too busy going about their business to stop and stare, or try helping. Putting myself back together was something I had to do alone. I’d learned that the hard way. Last time I accepted someone’s “help,” I’d had to walk home on my hands with my head facing backward.
No such complications this time, but when I finally pulled myself together, the midnight bells had started ringing. The street was deserted. People filled the bars and cafes. Toasts were made, bells were rung, and confetti was thrown.
I smiled with bittersweet vicariousness as couples exchanged their New Year’s kisses. I clapped and shouted, trying to feel like I was a part of it all. My friends were in a cafe three blocks away. I can still celebrate with them, even if I’m not in the same room.
Unfortunately, I clapped a bit too hard, and my left hand fell back off. I sighed and picked it up. Pressing my hand against my wrist, I watched as the squirming keratin fibers began knitting themselves into a functional joint.
I was exhausted and dehydrated—an annoying side effect of reassembling myself, but I’d lived with it since the day I was born. My mother said the delivery-room nurses got a laugh out of me. “You’ve got a perfectly healthy baby boy. There’s just some assembly required.” They didn’t know then how much was going to be required.
I stopped at the nearest convenience store for refreshment. The cashier was pretty, with tousled ebony hair in a loose ponytail. She smiled at me sadly, and I nodded to her. We were both spending New Year’s alone. It gave us a sort of bond.
Browsing the drinks, I decided an energy drink or soda would just dehydrate me further. I picked up a carton of coconut water, high in potassium. That should help. I looked up and noticed the cashier had been staring at me. Does she think I’m a shoplifter or something?
I grabbed a banana from the display and paid the cashier. I looked into her big, brown eyes for a long moment and wished that I didn’t have to spend another New Year’s single. The first girl I’d kissed had spent the better part of prom picking me up again and again. That was the last time I’d kissed anyone. Or risked dancing, for that matter.
“Want anything else?” she asked with a wink.
She’s mocking me. I pretended to read the ingredients on the coconut water as I turned to leave.
“Watch where you’re going, buddy.” The voice was unfriendly, and the hand that shoved my shoulder unfriendlier still.
As expected, I fell against the counter and came apart. The man laughed as my left arm rolled next to the door and the other tumbled into the snack aisle. My head landed on the countertop. The drink carton hit the ground and burst. I sighed. This was going to be a long night.
“Empty the register, lady.” The man pulled a pistol on her and held out a gym bag. The cashier opened the register and stuffed bills into the bag. Her tear-filled eyes kept glancing my direction. I was completely beside myself, and could only grimace in sympathy.
The helplessness was the worst part. I couldn’t protect myself in this condition, much less aid someone else.
I looked around at my scattered pieces, and an idea began to form. Maybe I’m not completely helpless.
My right hand had fallen off my arm, but still held the banana. The drink had spilled into a puddle that slowly covered the floor. I flexed my arm, sliding my hand toward the door like a hockey puck.
The jerk grinned as he stepped over the banana. Sure, that’s the obvious trick. Now avoid this one. My disembodied hand grabbed the cuff of his jeans. Slipping on the wet floor, he dropped the pistol and grabbed the doorframe.
I clutched the pistol with my right hand and waved it in his direction. “Better get out while you can, klutz!”
His eyes widened in terror as he glanced around at all my moving parts. “What the… what are you, you freak?”
He scampered off into the night, leaving the gym bag behind.
The cashier breathed a long sigh of relief and lifted my head from the counter. “What you are is my hero! Happy New Year!”
She kissed me square on the lips. I would have fallen apart again if I weren’t already in pieces.
The new year might not be so bad, after all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This made me smile. Good job!
I finished reading this and shook my head, laughing… and then laughed some more. And of course, the best part is that the cashier doesn’t care that her hero is an I-don’t-even-know-what.
Had me hooked at the first line.
Patently ridiculous fun.
Aw, this was fun! Such a unique idea. Also, the idea of her kissing him while he was already in pieces is kind of weird but also hilarious. XD
fun. someone falling apart and putting themselves together. Great concept.
I’m glad you all enjoyed it!
Oh, the puns!
This was much fun to read, and I love how you turned possibly the weirdest of disabilities into a superpower. Sweet and satisfying story!
Good one! Definitely got me in the funny bone. I loved that you turned the idiom into a plot!
Such a fun read! I’m glad he seems emotionally put together, if not always physically whole. I like that contrast – how calm he is when his body and circumstances are falling apart and out of his control.