Iam sat on the edge of his bed, his rump resting comfortably in the indentation made over the last few years. Running his hand over his gut, he thought, not for the first time, about buying a new mattress. Finally, he stood up and looked down. The springs didn’t make a sound, no longer possessing the strength to rebound from his overweight frame. Yeah, it was time for a new one. Iam put the caput mattress out of his mind and ambled to the bathroom, his hands trying to scrub the sleep from his eyes. The door was ajar, and he kicked at it without slowing.

Soiled towels, empty toilet paper rolls, and even more empty bottles littered the bathroom floor. They clinked together as Iam nudged them aside with his feet. The hollow sound of falling cardboard tubes joined the ruckus a minute later as he found the toilet. Iam was not a morning person. This wasn’t a typical morning, though, and Iam was determined to get through it. When he finished his business, his eyes roamed the wasteland of empty rolls, not finding a single one with even a sliver of paper left. Finally, with a shrug, he got up and turned on the shower.

His body barely fit into the small closet-like shower stall, and Iam wondered if even a normal person would be comfortable in the claustrophobic space. The water hadn’t warmed yet, but the icy stream only elicited a slight shiver as Iam turned his posterior to the cold cascade and scrubbed himself clean. When the dirty business was done, he grabbed the body wash only to find the bottle empty. Water trailed behind him as he stalked to the counter and grabbed a bottle of handsoap. A paper roll stuck to his foot as he made his way back, but Iam didn’t bother dislodging it. Instead, it went with him back into the shower. The handsoap’s lather was lackluster, but Iam endured and cleaned himself as best he could. When the shower was over, he rummaged through the dirty towels until he found one that didn’t smell like mildew and dried himself.

Iam didn’t ordinarily look in the mirror—he knew what would be looking back at him, but this morning required a shave which he wasn’t brave enough to do blind. So, he wiped a small circle of the fogged mirror clean. There was a single, used, disposable razor on the counter and no shaving cream in sight. The handsoap would be pulling double duty, it seemed. The dull razor pulled out more hair than it cut, leaving tiny patches of blood on Iam’s cheeks. The bloody face that looked back at him carried only the slightest hint of who he was. Or, who he used to be, at least. Fat rounded out his once square jawline. His vibrant green eyes were now hollow and dead-looking, years of little sleep and drink dulling their luster. Only his hair held on to even a shadow of his prime, a wavy brown with natural blonde highlights. He ran a finger through it, trying to pull it into shape. He had a comb somewhere but no energy to go looking for it.

That one glimpse of himself was enough to galvanize him to move. First, he grabbed a clean pair of jeans and his nicest shirt, a blue polo he’d only worn once. Then, not bothering with underwear, he tugged the pants on and fell back onto the mattress, using the friction it provided as leverage to force the pants on. He first tried to wear the shirt tucked in but felt like it emphasized his gut too much, so he pulled it out of his waistband. Having it hang limp made him feel slovenly. Iam looked at his filthy room and couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. But, ultimately, he tucked it in. Plenty of people in construction had guts, and he wanted to seem a little professional in the upcoming interview. Iam sighed. The interview loomed large in his mind, but that wasn’t the reason he was up at the ass-crack of dawn. No, only breakfast with his sister, Jessis, could get him up this early. She was perky, clean, and successful—everything he wasn’t. She was also the only family he had left, even if she spent more time lecturing him than socializing. Still, no matter how drunk or hungover, no matter how broke or depressed, when Jessis called, he came running. She was family.

The central part of Iam’s apartment was mainly clean and orderly. He didn’t spend much time in it, and if someone happened to come by, he wanted to appear like he had his shit together. As for his room, women weren’t interested in forty-something fat slobs, so there was little chance one would ever see the nightmare hidden behind that door. Iam grabbed up his keys and headed out. He paused by a small cabinet and looked at the pictures, medals, and trophies inside. Iam’s younger, healthier face stared back at him from the past. He had been so athletic. Reading the name on one of his many trophies, Iam grimaced.

Iam D’Mann, 400-meter Hurdles, First Place.

God, his dad had had a sick sense of humor. Going through high school named Iam D’Mann was tough, but he had been the man—until he wasn’t anymore. Jessis had it worse, though, because she wasn’t a man. But that didn’t stop the lesbian jokes from pouring in. Somehow, she just let them roll off her. Iam grumbled and left the apartment.

He drove a late nineties Camry. The engine was simple and easy to work on, with parts as cheap to buy as they were easy to replace. The red paint was in good shape, and there wasn’t any rust on it, despite living right next to the coast. Unfortunately, the door squeaked when he opened it, which inevitably drew passing eyes to the filthy, tattered interior. Iam plopped into the driver’s seat with well-practiced speed, shut the door quickly, and put the key in the ignition. Then, with a silent prayer, he turned the car on—nothing. Iam reached over and opened the glove box, then uncoiled a set of jumper cables that ran through the firewall and to the battery. The positive side sparked as the cable contacted the terminal of the junkyard battery sitting on the passenger floorboard. He’d come up with this system because he didn’t have the money to buy a new battery, but the one he’d found didn’t fit in the engine compartment. Now that the car had power, the engine came to life, and Iam pulled out of the gravel driveway.

Traffic was light, the only advantage to being up so early. He rolled along the street, lightly tapping the gas every time he stopped at a light to keep the engine running. He didn’t like driving through town, but Jessis disdained typical corporate restaurants, preferring to give her custom to local, small-time affairs. The diner he was heading to, Rosie’s, was near downtown Corpus Christi. It was expensive, but she was paying, and a free meal was a free meal, so what did he care if it was overpriced?

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Rosie’s sat nestled in the middle of a small, roadside strip mall. The building was older than Iam, but the red, white, and blue paint job was vibrant and inviting. The only parking was curbside which was unfortunate. Iam sucked at parallel parking, and even with so many open spaces, he took nearly two minutes to maneuver himself between the lines. Predawn was fading into morning, the sun just a sliver on the horizon. Seagulls serenaded the city with obnoxious squawks, and the salt stink in the air tried its best to choke out the pleasant smells of the diner. He recognized Jessis’ black Lexus as he walked to the door, and his already less than stellar mood darkened. He’d never had a car like that, nor would he ever. Bells jangled as he opened the door, and he saw Jessis waving at him from a booth near the back.

“Wow,” she beamed as he walked toward her, “you look good. What’s the occasion?” Iam opened his mouth, but she continued before he could answer. “Oh, that’s right, the interview. You ever going to tell me where it’s at?”

“Hey, sis,” he said with a huff and squeezed into the booth, getting as comfortable as he could. “Sure, I’ll tell you. If you promise not to do that thing you always do.”

“What thing?” she asked.

“You know,” he said with a dismissive wave, “that thing where you tell me I’m wasting my life and should find something better. A job’s a job, sis. I’m trying.”

Jessis’ smile faltered, and she looked down. “Yeah, I guess I do do that, huh? Well, I promise not to this time, so come on, spill.”

“Fine,” Iam grumbled, “Jack’s Asphalt. They’re hiring flaggers.”

“Flaggers?” Jessis asked. “What’s that?”

“Exactly what you think it is,” Iam said. She was trying to draw him out and engage with him, but he wasn’t much in the mood for that. “Can we order drinks, at least, before you start the lecture?”

Jessis’ eyes narrowed, and she started to speak, but Iam held up a hand to forestall her. The waiter came by with his stupid notepad extended like a weapon. His fake smile served to put Iam in an even grouchier mood as he endured the false cheer.

“Coffee, black,” he said. “And don’t bother with the menu. Just bring me four eggs over medium and wheat toast.”

“Can do!” the waiter replied, writing as though lasting peace rested on his words alone. “And you ma’am?”

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” she said. Then, lowering her voice, she continued. “I’m buying, remember?”

Iam nodded, and Jessis placed her order. The waiter left, and she rounded on he brother.

“You don’t want me to do that thing I always do, then don’t do the one you always do, okay?”

“Which one is that?’ Iam asked. “According to you, there are too many to remember.”

“That one,” she hissed. “The one where you make me the bad guy for trying to help you. If you want to be a flagger, then fine. I’m not going to tell you it’s a waste of your time or tell you you’re better than that. I just want to have breakfast with my brother, okay?”

“Funny how you never want to tell me all that, but I always seem to get the message,” Iam retorted.

The waiter returned with their drinks, the false smile replaced by a narrow, apprehensive grin. He quickly set down the cups and fled like The Hound of the Baskervilles was on his heels. Iam dumped some sugar into his coffee and stirred while trying to calm down. He was trying, but it was never enough for Jess. He’d gone from several drinks a day down to only a few. Or, he thought he had. Of course, he wasn’t counting or anything, but it felt like it.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he said at last. “It’s early, and I’m tired.”

“I know, DJ,” she said.

Iam cracked a tentative smile at the nickname. It stood for Don Juan, and he knew it was a peace offering of sorts. Because he hated it so much, Jess never used his real name, instead mostly just called him bro.

“Haven’t heard that one in a while. For the life of me, though, I can’t remember who gave it to me.”

“Really?” Jess said, her smile back on her face. “You don’t remember sweet, shy Rebecca, who used to walk an extra mile home from school just in case you were out front when she passed by the house?”

“Oh yeah,” Iam said. He grinned broader. “She didn’t stay shy for long.”

“Hence the nickname,” Jess said.

“Those were good times,” Iam said. He sipped his coffee and paused. “The best times.”

Just like that, the good mood that had been building for the last few seconds vanished. Iam didn’t want to be reminded of his past. It only made the present seem worse.

“But that was a long time ago,” he mumbled.

“It was,” Jess said. “It’s not too late to change, though. You could be that guy again with a little effort.”

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Iam grumbled.

The food arrived, carried by a different server, but Iam only picked at it. The past dominated his thoughts. Their parents had died in a car crash when they were still in school, and with no close-by relatives willing to take them in, they were put in the system. It wasn’t some Oliver Twist tragedy, though. The Miller family was stable, and they treated Iam and Jess well. But the change was too much for him. Nothing seemed important anymore—not school, girls, or even sports. Slowly, he was kicked off every team he was on and started to let himself go. He managed to graduate…barely, but that would be the highlight of his adulthood. After that, he wandered through dead-end job after dead-end job, finally taking refuge in the bottle. He didn’t actually like alcohol in the beginning, except for the temporary amnesia it offered. Before he knew it, though, it was the only way to get through the day. He dropped his fork and stood up.

“You leaving?” Jess said.

“Yeah, gotta go try and get another worthless job, see ya, sis.”

“Come on, bro, I didn’t say that. At least finish eating. I know it’s been hard lately.”

Unreasonable anger filled Iam at her words. She didn’t have any idea what hard was. He pulled out his wallet and fished out his last ten bucks, and tossed it on the table.

“I pay my own way,” he said with absolute disregard for all the times he hadn’t, in fact, paid his way.

Iam left Jess sitting at the booth and stormed out of the diner. He wiped at his forehead, his hands coming away damp with sweat. Corpus Christi wasn’t known for much aside from the Naval Air Station and the Texas State Aquarium. Well, maybe the fishing and famous Texas heat. Not even full dawn and already nearly ninety degrees. The worst part of it, if all went well, his life would be spent standing around in that heat all day, every day. Wasn’t life just friggin’ fantastic?