When he was a human he was called Todd.
Todd.
It sounded small. Weak. The way the vowel clung to the double consonant made the name sound like a complaint.
Todd had lived in Wisconsin and sold exercise equipment out of a showroom in a dying mall. Now he was in Key West, living under a Vrbo fronted by a pretty white porch with an indigo overhang and a Zillow estimate in the low millions. The weather was much better. Of course, the downside was that now he was an anole lizard.
Todd stuck his speckled head out from under the porch. He appeared to be alone, so he hopped onto the decorative finial that held a striped banner that read, One Human Family. He had been happy to discover that he was still able to read.
“If you don’t use it, you’re going to lose it,” Murphy, a much larger anole had warned him one day out by the pool. Murphy had scored a palmetto bug and offered Todd a crispy wing. “Make sure you read the signs and things, it’ll keep your mind sharp.” Murphy had popped the head from the roach and crunched into the body. “I hate the antennae,” he had said from around his snack. “Gritty. They don’t pulp well.”
Todd was embarrassed to admit that back when he was a person he had envied the birds that squawked and circled above him. The bumblebees that nosed and hovered over the pretty pink flowers his HOA fees paid for. Even the chipmunks that ran past him and disappeared under bushes and tunneled dangerously close to the poured concrete. He’d always assumed that things must be so easy for them. They weren’t prey to the petty dramas and betrayals to which humans subjected each other every day.
Turns out, they were prey to just about everything else.
He’d already lost the tip of his tail to one of the goddamned chickens that ran around everywhere.
“Tweeter,” Murphy had told him shortly after it had happened.
“That’s her name?”
Murphy had opened one eye. The ridge was molting and he flicked a long rear toe at the piece of skin but it just made it stick out more.
“Who the hell knows?” Murphy said. He tried again, spiked the shed with a claw and pushed it into his mouth. “That’s just what I call her.” He swallowed. His dewlap flexed translucent blood orange against his spotted brown skin. It made Todd think of cool, sweet citrus fruit.
“That one.” Murphy shook his head. “I’ve had a few close calls myself. You have to be careful, Bro. Keep your distance.”
###
Todd leapt from the stake to the roots of the Loquat tree that shaded the home’s living area.
His parietal eye caught Murphy on the limb above him working a leaf in his jaws.
“Hey, Murph!” he called. He scaled the smooth bark in stop motion leaps.
Murphy swallowed and motioned with his nose. “Family just moved into number thirteen.”
Visions of dropped berries and crumbs of all kinds danced in Todd’s head.
“Remember that time that kid dropped the hotdog?” Murphy asked.
“I do.” And he did. The sweet softness of the bun cut by the salty meat inside. It had been hard to share at first, and Murphy had been pretty aggressive about it. It was just the way it was out here. Hard to control your needs in such a small body, with so little autonomy and danger lurking everywhere. He opened his mouth and snapped his tongue.
“And Fritos. Remember Fritos?” Murphy raised his head and plucked another leaf from a branch.
Todd remembered Fritos, though he’d never been a fan. The dog’s paw odor was not something he’d ever found appealing. But now, God, he’d give the rest of his tail for a Frito.
“New people in your place too,” Murphy said. “Looks like a bachelorette party.”
“That can be good.” Todd thought about fruit, about berries and granola, but mostly about the fact that they’d all be drinking. Blunted motor skills meant lots of fallen goodies.
###
Occasionally, before he was fully awake, Todd would think he was still at home in his bed. He expected to see his bedroom window, the sunlight sliced by mini blinds, when he opened his eyes. To be soothed by the hums and clicks of the vital machinery of the house. Keeping him warm. Keeping him cool. Keeping him hydrated and clean. Making sure his messes were flushed far away and forgotten.
Then he’d open his eyes to the crusty planks that made up his ceiling. The muddy white skull bone of a meadow vole in the corner, the rest carried away long ago to give structure to a nest somewhere. Nothing wasted in the wild. For a time, the skull had been home to a gang of piebald Dermestid beetles, until they’d eaten what was left of the clinging flesh. Now it seemed to be a hangout for ants, which kept Todd’s diet high in protein.
Todd had learned the value of distance, sometimes shocking himself with the reality of the structures around him. What his Todd brain saw as a tank car was actually a can of Bud Lite knocked on its side. Even though alcohol was not allowed in the pool area. He knew this because he heard the woman who picked it up say so in a very loud voice. He’d barely missed being squished by the recoil of her pink rubber flip-flop in her quest to right the wrong of wanton littering. “Some of us actually live here,” she’d puffed as she lifted the can. A locomotive plucked from the track by a titan in a terrycloth cover up.
At night, tucked behind a leaf, on top of a limp and speckled Kleenex, or as now inside of a peanut M&M’s bag, he’d wonder if his life as a lizard was also some sort of way station.
Off in the distance a rooster crowed. Todd shivered, making his bag rustle.
###
Before, when he’d considered an afterlife, he’d thought of a big sunny field, sitting in one of those big chairs like the ones outside the pool area and throwing balls to every dog he’d ever owned. Meeting his great-grandparents. Spending his nights listening to live music by John Lennon and Chris Cornell. It had to be better than spending his days in the dregs of a shopping mall selling expensive and soon to be forgotten workout equipment to aspirational suburbanites.
At the time it had felt like he was in Purgatory.
He wondered now if that was exactly where he was.
Except lizards didn’t live that long. Especially in the wild. Purgatory lasted for eons, according to . . . was Purgatory in the bible? If he’d ever known he certainly couldn’t remember now. All he remembered was that it was a sort of limbo where you waited to have your soul cleansed before you were able to get into heaven. Who had told him that? His grandmother maybe? He remembered the safety of her soft belly and her splotchy rosary-bound hands. The only other bible-adjacent memory he could summon was the floor of the church when he was a kid. Beige stone, the air heavy with the powdery bergamot odor of incense. His child-sized black wingtips that for whatever reason never stayed tied.
Todd hadn’t been awful as a human. He’d always tried to do the right thing. To help people. To be the best person he could be. But then he wound up here.
What to do? Be the best lizard he could be?
And then what?
###
An ambulance rolled down the street, loud and honking. A rooster crowed in response.
The siren’s shriek sparked another memory. Lights on wet pavement. Rain, comforting and cool, but unable to slake his terrible thirst. The cold slick hood of his car. Pressure on his head and hot dampness at his throat. Sirens. Lights, blurry red and strobed. Louder. Closer. Then nothing.
The front door slammed above him.
The planks moaned as someone sat down on the wicker couch. A woman’s voice scolded, “Bitch!”
Todd shimmied out from inside the bag. He knew he should stay put. But he had to see.
As a human he had always been called out for eavesdropping. He did it everywhere. He’d lurked around corners, just beyond doorways. Anything to key into a life more interesting than the one he was living. One disastrous blind date ended with a glass of water thrown at him because he was too busy listening to the conversation at the next table.
He climbed up onto the deck, shimmied up the spindles and onto the railing. He looked up at the blue ceiling that seemed to roil and sluice into an angry river rush. It looked cold and dangerous and he didn’t want to get too close.
The woman sobbed quietly. He steeled himself and skittered forward for a better look.
She stopped crying when she noticed him. “Hey,” she said softly. “Hi, little guy.”
Todd tensed ready to break and run.
“How are you buddy?”
She was probably in her twenties, although Todd was terrible with ages. About ten years younger than he had been, he’d guess. Her hair was short and brown, her eyes covered by red cat eye glasses.
Todd opened his mouth to say hello and then remembered that he couldn’t communicate with humans.
She stood up and made her way slowly to him. White wine tidaled over the rim of the glass in her hand as she staggered to the railing.
“You’re so cute!” she said. Todd was wreathed in a yeasty acidic fog of wine finished with a hint of garlic and seafood. He skittered backwards.
“Oh!” she said quickly. “Don’t leave please! I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear!” She pressed a hand over her heart. “Wait a sec.”
She lifted the glass and Todd heard her swallow once, twice, three times in quick succession. “I’m Amy! Nice to meet you.” She put the glass down hard and Todd sunk his claws into the wood as the railing bounced.
“Oh no!” she said. “What happened to your tail?”
Todd shifted his head.
“Probably one of those pain in the ass roosters!” she said. “Did you know about the roosters?” Her voice pitched high on the last word. ”I sure as hell didn’t! Jesus, they’re annoying.”
Todd dashed his tongue out to taste the railing and get his bearings.
“Yes!” she said with a giggle. Todd had no idea what she was agreeing with. She rested her chin on the painted wood. Todd stared at the crop of giant blackheads spread over the hills of her nose and nostrils.
“I gotta tell ya something,” she stage whispered. Todd held his breath as best he could. His lung capacity was not what it used to be and her exhalations were lethal.
“It’s very important,” Amy continued. “This bitch, Tricia,” she held the ‘a’ for a while, “who’s supposed to be marrying my brother, just went off to hook up with some asshole dressed like a leprechaun.” She stood up. “I mean, he had the beard,” she cylindered her hand in front of her face. “And the hat.” She moved the hand to her head. “And NO SHIRT! Just suspenders!” She flicked her bra strap and Todd flinched at the snap. “And JORTS! And this complete garbage bitch LEFT WITH HIM. And all of her friends are pissed at me like I’M THE ASSHOLE!” She paused to drink more wine. She took a breath after she was done. “They’re like, ‘Let . . . Her . . . Live!’ and I’m like, ‘She’s marrying my brother!’” She drank more wine before gulping out, “Next weekend!”
Todd could feel his eyes growing wider. He didn’t want to judge, but her friends sounded like terrible people.
“What do I do, little guy? Do you think I’m wrong for being mad?”
Todd didn’t. He twitched his head lightning quick.
“Oh my God!” Amy screamed as she jumped up and down. Everything tremored. Todd jettisoned himself from the railing onto the smooth root of the Loquat tree and scampered under the porch.
Above him, Amy shouted, “You understood me! Oh my God! I can talk to animals!”
He tucked himself inside the M&M bag and tried to calm down.
“Fuggin’ Doctor Doolittle!” Amy exclaimed. He heard her footsteps pace back and forth over his head.
Todd listened for a while, his body expanding and contracting against the bag. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing until he fell asleep.
###
Todd woke up to the bass line of a rap song. He clambered up on top of the porch railing.
The blue ceiling coursed above him. Best to stay away. The door opened and Amy came out holding a cup of coffee and a banana. She pulled the door shut with her free hand. She stopped when she saw him. ”Hey buddy!” she said. “Let’s see if you’re the same guy.“ She pushed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and tilted her head to see his tail. “It is you! Sorry I scared you last night.”
She sat on the couch, put her cup down, and peeled her banana open from the bottom.
“Want some breakfast?” She asked as she pinched off a chunk and threw it on the ground. It splattered against the planks and stuck.
Todd looked at it. She had thrown it a good distance away from herself. Probably safe enough and good lord that banana smelled heavenly. He took another look at the churning ceiling. He knew he was going to risk it even before he jumped.
He climbed down the spindle. Watched the girl take a bite of the banana and sip some coffee. Landed next to the hill of deliciousness and took a taste.
He swore he could hear angels singing.
“There you go,” she said. “Are we good now?”
Todd continued to eat the banana. He’d have to be quick, the ants would be here any minute.
“Hey! Got quite the feast there, I see!” Murphy said from the tree above him.
Todd stopped chewing. “Come on down!” His mouth was gluey with breakfast. “There’s plenty!”
”You’ve got a friend!” Amy giggled as the larger lizard landed near the feast. “Here!” She threw more banana.
‘God, I love bachelorettes,” Murphy said around a mouth full of fruit.
The door opened.
“Who the FUCK are you talking to?” The girl in the doorway hung back. Her hair was rolled up around her head like petals on a sunflower. Skin an alarming red against her white shorts and tank top. She had a hardcover book in her hand. “Can you keep your voice down?”
Murphy and Todd looked from the door to the banana. Todd kept eating.
“Dude, this looks like trouble,” Murphy said. “Let’s bounce.”
“Hi Tricia,” Amy said. ”Just talking to my lizard friends.”
Garbage Bitch, Todd thought as he looked at the door and put the words to the person.
“Friends?” Tricia said from the doorway. The word dripped from her lips.
“Seriously,” Murphy said. “I’m out, come on.”
Todd looked at Amy on the couch. She raised her hands and bent her fingers in a wave.
Behind him Murphy jumped onto the Loquat tree. “Todd, Man, come on.”
From the doorway Tricia hissed, “That’s because you don’t have any human friends.”
Something cut the air, a disturbance in the wind. Todd looked up at the doorway.
“Todd!” Murphy shouted. “INCOMING!”
It was the last thing Todd heard. He looked up as a shadow bore down on him fast.
He read the words, Eat Pray Love, until it got too close to make any sense.
And then. Silence and darkness.
###
Todd woke up and gulped air. Bright light stung his eyes and people were shouting all around. He tried to adjust his eyes and gather himself in the mayhem. His body clutched and buoyed up on weird rubbery hands.
It was freezing. Much too cold for Key West.
Mechanical beeps. Cries. A triumphant masked voice: “It’s a boy!”
Todd opened his mouth to call out for Murphy, but all that came out was a scream.
For more on Kathy Lanzarotti, please see our Authors page.
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