The Life of Drake Harvey by Leigh Payton
2021 Flash Fiction Winner
First Place
Drake Harvey was half asleep on the #16 bus as it wound its way around the downtown core. The relentless rain made the windows foggy and created a damp, musty smell that emanated from every pore of the bus. It was late and he could vaguely see the city’s lights reflected on the wet pavement. In another world this might be glamourous. But not here. Not tonight.
He lifted his elbow and used his dusty work jacket to wipe the fog and damp from the window. He peered outside. Two more stops. As the bus lurched to a stop, the back doors snapped open and Drake Harvey found himself standing in the rain.
He walked the two blocks to his sister’s flat. He loved her but this was not something he loved about her. He needed a smoke before seeing her. He tucked under a low overhang at the butcher’s shop across the street and fumbled around in his pockets for his pack of smokes and a box of matches. He’d lost his favourite Zippo and refused to buy a new one insisting to himself it would turn up eventually. And besides, his sister had given it to him. It was the last time they’d had a ‘normal’ Christmas.
He leaned back on the butcher’s window taking long inhales of his cigarette. He stared up at his sister’s flat. The lights were on. She’d called him only an hour ago, just as his shift was ending, asking him to come by. She needed his help. Again.
He tossed his cigarette into a puddle and trudged across the street. The front door clicked open before he could hit the buzzer. Shit. She’d seen him standing there staring up at her windows.
Heading up the cracked, linoleum stairs he tried to relax. The smell of the corridors reminded him of the bus. Her door was open, so he casually walked in.
“Hey sis. How ya doin’?” He tossed his wet jacket on the floor.
“Shitty. Hi. Thanks for coming over. I really needed to see you.” Cynthia Harvey limped over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. She reeked of days-old alcohol, but he could see she was sober.
“Hey, no problem. What’s up?” He didn’t sit but leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.
“I was…” The bedroom door slammed making her jump. Drake Harvey turned to see a guy walking down the hall. They caught each other’s eyes as he slammed that door shut too. The guy looked familiar, but Drake Harvey couldn’t quite place him.
“So, uh, that’s why I called you. I can’t get rid of him. He won’t fucking leave. I need you to help me. He’s bad news.” Cynthia Drake was shaking now.
Drake Harvey turned away to think, and to hide the disgust on his face. He spotted his Zippo lighter on the old, stained coffee table.
“Well, I should’ve seen that coming.” he said to no one.
Leigh Payton teaches business and academic writing at the post-secondary level. After abandoning creative writing and poetry for years, she has found her way back to the craft and is thoroughly enjoying the creative process and reconnecting with the writing community. Leigh lives in Guelph.