Homes Don’t Really Exist


R. G. Heller

Disclaimer: These characters are mine. Please do not use them without my consent.

Sex and Violence: No

Bad Language: F*$% Yeah! Yes there is a lot of bad, bad language.

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at an Uber Story. Love to know what you think. You can find me at and if you like what you read visit my homepage at



"Jesus Christ!"

"Shit Kel, she’s fucking screaming in there!"


"Well go in there or something."

"What? You go in there Rick. No I’m not…"

"You know her…"

"I don’t know her, god damn it! No, I can’t. I can’t…

"Kel I’m about to call the fuckin cops."

"No, Rick, please. Fuck!"

"Go in there. I’ll be right outside the door."

"Ok. Alright. Just…"

I’m giving writing a shot again. Not really, it’s nothing very ordered. I’m simple. I like dialogue. I hate big words. I haven’t written in over five years, and I don’t believe I have ever finished anything. I just started reading again. Jen bought me a book. She’s the one screaming. She was only going to stay for a few days. It’s been a month. I don’t mind though. It’s sorta nice having someone else around, and she’s been Ok. If nothing else she scans my calls for me. No one calls for her.

"Kel! Kel! Phone!"

"Yeah, I heard you. Sorry guys. I’ll be right back to get you."

"Listen Kel, you tell those fuckers to stop calling here. I’m on my last straw with you. Take care of your shit."

"I’ve told em Rick. I’ll take care of it."

I hate phones. When I’m working I just wait for Rick to walk away and then I hang it up. He’s been on his last straw with me for five months now. I send all I can out each month, but all I can isn’t enough to cover everyone I owe. I need a new credit card. I can’t even get a K-mart card. I haven’t tried Target yet. I don’t even have a checking account. I go to the grocery store to cash my paychecks, and buy money orders for my bills.

"Hey Kel, can I bum a cigarette?"

"Sure. Here."

"God, I owe you at least a carton."

"Fuck it. Buy me a drink sometime."

"Sure thing. Well, the snow’s slowin things up. Rick’s lettin me go home early."

"I don’t know why he just doesn’t close. I hate driving in this shit."

"Yeah. I hate scraping my windshield more."

"Oh fuck. Jesus my scraper’s a piece of crap."

"I never scrape the whole thing. I just make a little hole on the driver’s side. I can’t see shit."

"Oh I’ve definitely done it that way before."

"Thanks for the cigarette Kel."

"Whatever. Drive safe. See you tomorrow Lisa."


I’ve been told I’m a terrible driver. Aggressive, and even worse when I ‘m drunk. It’s been almost 2 years since I got my license back. Driving while intoxicated. I pulled into a parking lane. I must have wanted to make a right turn. I was wearing my seat belt however. Cracked my collarbone, and you can’t imagine the bruise the seatbelt left. Yes, I had my seatbelt on. Go figure. I lost my license for three months and my job for good. Out of all the applications I turned in, this was the only place willing to hire me. Actually this was the only place willing to hire me with no questions asked, and I had to start working again.

"Hey Kel that lady in that booth over there is askin for you. She’s piss drunk. Oh, and I’d appreciate if you’d meet up with your friends after work."

"Who her. I don’t know her."

"She knows you."

I grew up in South Omaha. It’s in Nebraska, that state that’s right smack dab in the middle of the country. Actually I grew up on the outskirts of South O. More like Central Omaha, but no one ever says they’re from Central Omaha. Anyway, people tend to think you’re tough if you’re from South O so that’s what I tell them. No one else had kids in the neighborhood except the Halloways. They lived right next door. They had two. Jennifer and Mike. Mike was my age, but we never hung out. Jen was quite a bit older, at least 6 or 7 years. I absolutely adored her. I’d sit out on my porch and wait for her to come home from work and hope she’d talk to me. She always did. She’d ask me how school was, what grade I was in, if I was dating, the usual kind of neighbor-to-neighbor questions. I’d always ask her about work. She never said much. I think she hated her job. I always felt giddy after talking to her. I don’t know why. When I turned 16 she moved out. She never stopped home after that, not even for the holidays.

"Hey, miss? Are you all right? You need to keep your head up Ok. You asked for me?"

"Ohh…Hi Kelly! Do you remember me?"

"Jennifer? Jennifer Halloway? Jesus Christ, how are you? Where’ve you been hiding? It’s been a while."

"Well I’m back in town for a while."

"That’s…I mean how…"

"Your mother told me you were working here."

"You talked to my mother?"

"Hey Kelly? Could you be so kind as to bring me a beer or somethin?"

"Well, you know I think Rick’s gonna close up early tonight. We’re gonna stop serving here pretty quick."

"Who, that guy? Shit. Kelly, he asked me if I wanted anything. I said ‘you.’ I know I’m pretty plastered but don’t fuck me around."

"I’m not Jennifer."


"I’m not Jen."

"Please bring me something to drink then."

"You sure? I just made a fresh pot of coffee."

"I didn’t come here to sober up Kelly."

"Alright, I’ll see what I can do. You’ve got a keep your head up though. Rick’ll throw you out. God…I can’t believe it’s you. Sorry, I…"

"Sure, sure, go, go, please."


I always sneak away into the bathroom at least once or twice a night when I’m working. I don’t use it. It’s to dirty. I just stand in front of the mirror and look at myself, or have a cigarette and watch our intoxicated cliental try and wash their hands after they piss all over the toilet. Why they just don’t sit down I don’t know. It’s one thing trying to squat sober. Of course it only takes one. Even drunk, most don’t prefer sitting on a pee lined toilet seat. So, I hide in there until the stench starts to sting my nose, or Rick starts screaming my name. It’s usually the latter of the two.

"Kel! Kel!"

"Yeah, I’m right here. Sorry I needed to use the bathroom quick."

"Did ya tell this lady here you would get her a drink?"

"Well, I suggested coffee."

"Look miss, I’m sorry but I have to cut you off. You could hardly make it from the booth to here. If I had my door guy working you wouldn’t have even been allowed in."

"Ya offered me something earlier."

"Jen, where are you staying? I can take you home after we close up. You need to get some rest Ok."

"I want a fukin drink Kelly. I didn’t come here to get lectured I came here to drink. You’re my buddy Kelly, why can’t you get me a drink? God damn."

"Miss, please calm down. We’re not going to serve you. Do want me to call you a cab?"

"No Rick, I’ll take her home."

"Home? I’m not going home. Fuck you. I’ll find another bar. Where’s your bathroom?"

I have a one-bedroom apartment, so Jen’s been crashin on the couch. She’s almost as tall as the damn thing is long. I usually come home real late, or better yet real early. I’m a sucker for after hours parties. Usually Jen’s still sleeping when I finally make my way in. If she’s already up, I just pass out on the couch. A few weeks ago I woke up on the couch and she was sitting in the rocking chair right across from me. To tell you the truth it kind of freaked me out. She wasn’t watching TV or anything, she was just sitting there. We talked a little, and she gave me a packet she had picked up from UNO. She told me I should look into it. I passed out again and didn’t see her until the next day. I put the packet on top of my dresser. I don’t know why I didn’t just throw it out. I’m never going to look at it.


"I’m going, I’m going."

"Just take a deep breath."

"Ok I’m fine. Your gonna be right outside here right?"

"Yeah, I’ll be right here."


My heart was pounding so hard when I went into that bathroom. I thought I might throw up. I think my hands were shaking, but I don’t remember. She had stopped screaming by the time I finally went in. She was kneeling down in one of the stalls next to a toilet seat, as if she were going to vomit. I stopped right inside the door and just starred at her. I may have said her name. She didn’t turn around.

"I’m sorry Kelly. I feel like a big fucking…"

"It’s Ok Jen. Just relax all right. What’s wrong sweetie?"

"I didn’t want…I didn’t no where to go…I haven’t been back in so long."

"Huh. Well, I’ve never been out."

"Oh, God I feel so stupid."

"It’s all right honey. I’m here to help Ok. Just tell me what’s wrong."

"No, everything’s fine. I’ll get out of here."

"Hey, careful, careful. I got you, I got you. Here, lean back. Can you stand?"

"Yes. Thanks. Help me out to my car Kelly."

"Jen you can’t drive. Please, I can take you home."

"I can’t go home Kelly. I just want to sleep."

"You…you can stay at my place."

"No! Kelly, just take me to my car."

"No Jen."

"God dammit. Please."

"Jen please tell me what’s wrong. Why can’t you go home honey? Please, I’m right here. I want to help you."

"No you don’t. Why would you care?"

"I care enough Jen. I’m not letting you leave on your own. I’ll just wait for you to pass out."

"Well fuck you!"

"Hey you came here Jen."

"Fuck you! Let go of me!"

"Jen! Jesus Christ your gonna fall. Stop it!"

"You remember Mike?"

"What? Your brother?"


"Yeah sure, you want me to call him."

"No. He…blew his head off. Stuck a shotgun in his mouth. My mom found him."

"Oh God, Jen. Oh my God, I’m so sorry."

"I had to come home…that fucking bastard. I don’t understand. My mom set a fuckin place for him at the table tonight. I couldn’t…God…"

"It’s Ok, it’s Ok."

"Please just…don’t let go of me."

She hasn’t talked about the suicide since that night, and I haven’t asked. I don’t know if I should. I went with her to the cemetery once but I stayed in the car. She didn’t stay long anyway. It was too cold. Maybe I’m not the right person to help her, and she knows it. I run from my problems. I’ve considered moving before just to get away from them. You know I didn’t even cry when she told me. It wasn’t the shock, I just didn’t cry. I still haven’t. I don’t really even know why I’m letting her stay with me. Maybe it’s for old time’s sake. Maybe I still like her a little for some reason or another.

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