Suddenley

Chapter 1 

The crescent moon is like an amber abrasian in the night sky. As I walk through the streets there is a type of eerie silence, but in an hour the street will be full of opportunistic jazz bands, conning tourists out of their money. As I try to think of what I want to manifest for the upcoming month, I can’t help but notice the pulsing thud of my feet on the floor. The squishing of my left converse causes Alice’s voice to echo in my head about how, “I need to start using some of that money to buy myself some decent lady like clothes”. The thought of her overly caring tone of voice pushes me to walk the long way home.

As I walk down the block I observe the phony color of the houses and how the majority of the paint has chips in it. I hear some men with thick accents shout inaudible words. As I move towards the voices, I decide to quicken my pace ; not because I am scared, but because I’m not stupid. I know that people know who I am. Alice always warns me to not walk down lonely sidewalks in fear that I’d get mugged.

Upon passing the inaudible gaggle of men I realise that it is an Irish bar. Da always said that Irish people were good for nothing drunks. I myself could never comprehend why you would go on vacation to a different country to spend it drunk in a pub in which the theme apdarently mirrored that of your country.

As I turn the corner, I feel my phone vibrate on my ass, I smile to myself and think ‘right on time’. Alice rings claiming she is worried about my whereabouts as it is winter and all I left in was a denim jacket with rips in it. Really, I know it is because she has her book group at eight thirty and wants to see I get home before she meets up with other lonely widows while they drink wine and pretend to each other that they relate to the unrequited love Heathcliff felt for Catherine.

As I walk up our small driveway, I glance to the Freemans home that is attached to our house. Almost expecting to see the two Freeman boys playing together through their balcony window while their granny knits on the porch. My heart stops for a second when I see the unusual darkness in their warm home. I forgot that they were gone on a road trip for a few nights. As I open our front door I am greeted with that awful high pitched squeak of its hinges. I drop my bag in the hall with regret as I hear the clank of the glass bottles of alcohol in it, I quickly think of an excuse for what would be glass in my bag other than alcohol. Alice doesn’t ask.

I sit on our table for eight. I never really understood why my parents got a table for eight. There were never eight of us. Now there is one of us. I still sit in my seat left of the head of the table where Da used to sit. I hear the click of Alice’s heels in the kitchen, clearly rushed, part of me feels bad for delaying her to her group. So, I get up and go into the kitchen and tell her I can finish up the dinner myself. Alice says “Okay doll, just make sure it is piping hot on the inside, the last thing we want is you getting food poisoning”. She proceeds to describe the instructions on how to use a microwave. She loves treating me like I was helpless. I’m not helpless, I just don’t need to be helped. Her bleach blonde hair is tied back with an oriental looking clip, probably one Da brought back for her from his trips. I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear and smile and tell her to have fun and forget about being stuck with me for a while. She scoffs and calls me a blessing. She then gives me a hug and I can feel her pull me unusually tight into her bosom.

Every Wednesday she goes to this book club and everytime she leaves me alone in the house she acts like a psych nurse leaving a high risk patient alone with a plastic fork. As I sit on the wooden chair and push the squishy pasta bake leftovers around my plate I fixate on water dripping from the gutters on my porch in my yard, creating a sort of puddle. I’m tired of eating the same meals two days in the row, but Alice insists on not having leftovers, “We don’t need rats to be added to our list of gaps”. She refers to problems and issues as gaps to create an optimistic twist on it; and that irks me.

I shove my leftovers of the leftovers into the trash and put my plate into the sink. As I ascend the stairs I ensure that my eyes avoid contact with the gallery of family photos my ma hung. The cold beads hanging from my door brush against my collar bone and the crisp noise they make as they clash together startles Higgs. His lazy ass rolls over and looks at me completely unamused, but I mean, cats aren’t amused by much. I stare at myself in my vanity mirror. I scoff at the affirmations I stuck to it last night, 3 A.M me was clearly trying to attempt to patch together my self esteem. I pull them down and throw them into the paper basket.

I pour the cleanser on to a reusable cotton pad, which really are just another money scam, circular towels branded as eco friendly cotton pads. I get transfixed on an eyelash that is stuck on the cornea of my eye. I begin to notice the black specs in the blue of my eyes. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain and I start to blink the eyelash to the corner of my eye in order to remove it. My eye begins to water. My makeup comes off to reveal my bright red checks. I look at myself in disappointment as these red cheeks cause me to look like I am in a constant state of embarrassment. My eyes follow over to the dry skin that surrounds my nose while I pile on moisturiser in the hopes that it will soften the cracks out, but it just stings a bit and my eye begins to water again. I give up on it.

I shove Higgs over on the bed and take off my clothes and climb in. I fix my blind so I can see out slightly. The feeling of loneliness begins to creep over my skin, my stomach begins to feel heavy and my skin feels a sort of weird sting. I attempt to fixate at the bright lights in the horizon of the bustling city. I start to think about all the empty souls that are hoping to find a meaning to their stale existence on this planet. I roll my eyes. I feel sorry for them, I do.

I wake up to scratching on my bedpost. I check my phone, the time is 3:34 A.M. No messages. I get up and pull on one of Odins T-shirts to let Higgs out into the yard. I check to see if Alice’s high heels she wore to the book club were in the hallway, they are, a sense of relief came over me. I proceeded to grab my bag with the bottles of whisky in it being more careful this time. I sit on a chair in my yard and stare at Higgs trying to understand why he woke me up at 3:34 A.M. I pour a sort of shot into the cap of the bottle and knock it back. I turn to enter back into my house, Higgs startles me as he scatters in front of me not wanting to be left outside in the cold winter morning.

When I come back into my room he is laying in my warm spot on my bed. I sigh and go to hide the whisky bottles in my pyjamas drawer, and go back to bed. I hesitate and turn around to take the opened whiskey bottle out again, but I spot a flask of tea that Alice must have made for me on my bedside table. I start to feel guilty and put the whisky back into its hiding spot. I curl into the bed with Higgs, I don’t shove him over this time and I breathe in the steamy scent of the jasmine tea. I look out my window and the lights outside are still glowing as bright as ever. I pull out my notebook and begin to doodle ideas for a new poem, while watching Higgs’ belly expland up and down and listening to his soft purr like snores.