Everyone cheats

God protected Cinderella. But not me or else I would have married Floyd at least or lasted five years, three more years, with him. It all played out exactly how Ma predicted back in WestLane as we baked chocolate chip cookies. I can still recall her moans, his bed squeaking, her tiptoeing as she leaves and my bedroom door squeaking when he popped his head in.

Grabbing the sketch of his smiling face that now only makes me gag along with a box of matches stolen from his bottom drawer, I hurry down the usual path we take whenever we find life deadly. At least this time I won’t return panting and sweaty with an unbuttoned shirt. Down here is where it all started. I don’t turn back to my flat even when thunder strikes and flashes across the sky. The path leads to the fence he pushes me up against to press into me. There’re enough trees beyond the fence to stifle Floyd’s scream and hide away his body without me sweating too much should I push him down to his death. A wildfire should have burnt all this up a while ago. After rolling up the sketch I poke it into one of the fence holes and try time and time again to light up at least one of his stupid matches. Giving up I thrust the matches to the ground and scream my lungs out as I tear the sketch up instead. Then it takes off with the wind, swirling around as it mocks me for ever daring to dream.

I crouch, cover my ears with my hands and sob. When the pain doesn’t stifle, I thump a rock against the mud whilst pretending that it’s Floyd. I thump until a hole not deep enough to swallow my fingers forms. I scream at the same time as the thunderstrike.

“The screams are coming from down there.” I look behind me. That’s Mr. Grim. When the leaves rustle but not because of the wind I stand up and run up the other route leading to the back of my flat block. It weighs more on my lungs and legs than the previous hills. I’m half bent over climbing.

Although my tears are hidden, the rain still slips me up twice. The first time I suck it up but the second time I just lay in the mud for longer than it had taken me to find Grandma Lucy dead. She had died during the night. Maybe someone would also stumble onto me. Long dead. They may as well think I died. I raise my head when a phone rings. Then I reach within my pockets after realising it’s mine. I decline it but then two messages pop up. One is my first warning from Mike. Two warnings left before he fires me. The other is Floyd reminding me to pay my half of the rent. I get up at once and start up again. I can’t waste the same amount of tears or more than I had shed for Lucy on Floyd. There’s rent due. There’s life to do.

Muddy footprints trail me all the way up the stairs to the second floor. Mr. Grim taps his wooden stick and frowns. “You better clean this in the next five minutes, London. Before I come out.”

“Floyd will. Promise. I have to work.” As I pass him I cross fingers that he butts heads with Floyd.

I leave muddy prints in the bathroom and living room as well but I only sweep the ones across my bathroom tiles after my shower. He would have to deal with the ones in the living room and down the stairs. That should be enough punishment for now. I stay in the shower until all the warm water is up. It’s a bitter reminder that even a shower can turn as cold as Floyd. At least we have lasted two years and five months longer than it has taken the shower to turn cold.

If innocence is a scent I would be it. At least according to Floyd. And no matter how much deodorant and perfume I put on, that scent stays. Eventually, I move on to dressing. Green shirt, white shorts along with black boots and a green cap with the words Fresh and Early threaded into it. I can’t look at my reflection without wincing. Green isn’t only his eye colour; it’s also his favourite.

Without sparing one last glance at my reflection I go ahead and drink the last spoonful of hot chocolate downstairs before heading into my Grandma Gale’s car, the car Grim stands back and watches with the most grumpiest face out there. Despite the swimming kit in the boot of the car that needs to be unloaded I still reverse out from under the tent, barely smiling and waving at Grim who now blocks the bottom of the staircase. The swimming kit can wait for after work.

I travel alone on the roads. I need to really, really look in order to spot another car. But that is how the rain works. It keeps Mr. Grim grumbling over every mud paddle and makes Floyd bed anyone else but me. Three nights ago he had. Bed squeaks are the only sounds the rain makes. At least for me.

Parking beside Wayne’s very own Suv, but red instead, I stick out my umbrella and sprint into Fresh and Early where upside down chairs on top of clothless tables wait for me to take them down. The same regular customer sits right by the blinds amidst other upside down chairs. Even a mere customer had arrived before me.

I shake my umbrella hard, letting some of the rain droplets fly into his face and land on his book. People like him get me in Mike’s bad books. Without sparing him a glance I nod at Jude and Wayne before heading to the knob behind the till, my station for now, and hanging up my flimsy, five cent umbrella. The door jiggles close yet the spot where he sits still has his book-mark, book and phone.

Jude gives me ‘that’ look. Sighing, I head to the table and grab his book, bookmark and samsung but as I head to the door he returns. We pause and stare at each other despite his wet spectacles. He sighs and crosses his arms. “I feel like you have it out for me. Have I done anything wrong? Do I know you?”

I turn to Jude who comes forward with a steaming cup of tea. “Nothing like that. We thought you were leaving and had forgotten your stuff…”

I nod, put down his stuff and speed walk to the storage room at the back of the kitchen. Upon walking inside I bump right into Brad Grant. His black coat slips to the floor. He steps back and eyes me. “What’s this?” He turns me back around by my wrist as I start out again. He studies my eyes and then the rest of me. “Did something happen?” I look behind him at Mike and shake my head.

He opens his mouth but Mike beats him to it. “I hope not. You’ve been gone for three days. I can’t have you causing me trouble. Are you causing me trouble? Brad…you should know that girls are expensive. Economically, they’re not the best employees.” I turn around to leave when Mike pipes up once more. “Why have you been absent? Maybe, I might take back my warning. Floyd had also been absent.”

Brad grips my wrist and really now looks at me. “Could it be…” He bends slightly until we are eye to eye. “Has he finally disappointed you?” I start to struggle against his grip. “Is it with Lauren…but she didn’t look like Lauren.” He lets go and looks over my shoulder.

“All this for a breakup?” Mike huffs, shakes his head and turns to Brad. “You can see yourself. She’s a disappointment.” As he walks past me he bumps my shoulder such that I stumble back.

As Brad starts off I stretch out for his hand. “Lauren? How…”

He turns back. “Told you he was a cheater. He’s the most dangerous sort.” He reaches out for my cheeks but I jerk back. He sighs and walks away.

I fall onto the bench beside the toilet paper. Behind me the wind blows in. After breathing in three or four times I dial up Lauren but the call prompts me to record a voicemail. I end it, unwrap five gums and thrust it into my mouth. After I quit vaping this was my next alternative.

Why would Mike open the window? I sneeze; the gum flies out of my mouth and lands on the nose of her shoes. Sybil’s pink Stiletto. She screams and kicks off her shoes, sending it sliding across the floor. She narrows her eyes at me and then launches. I run in between her legs, throw a toilet roll at her and shut the door. I get back to the till where Jude smiles as she slides over a piece of rag. “Why didn’t any of you warn me about…”

Wayne whistles before I finish my sentence. Back in Eastward it means hiding from the police. In this case we adopt an upright stance even though mine might collapse the moment she reaches us. But still, I stand there, counting down the seconds until she reaches us, the seconds until she stops treating the walk towards us as a catwalk.

She sashays and then strikes a pose with her hands on her hips which she draws a little to the side upon reaching us. She looks like a better punching bag than my pillow. Who won’t get a kick from trashing her. But I have no energy. “Is he staring?” I glance behind me at that one consistent customer who now only puts his book down briefly to sip his cup of tea. After I shake my head at her, she huffs without stomping her feet this time. “They’re so bloody hard to get, nowadays.’

“I don’t think Chase would like that.” I mutter but stay standing even though the pose made even lifting a finger challenging.

“Let me give you one tip. Jealousy is what keeps a relationship going. It’s what keeps the flames alight. Not communication. Devilish feelings.” The same dynamics existed between Aunt Patricia, her mother, and Patrick, her father. They have since divorced but until this day Aunt Patricia continues to heal from it. Floyd and she think alike. They can make people jealous; I can’t even after a makeover overnight.

“I’m sorry about the gum…” I look at her heels; they are as pink as ever.

She sits down without putting up much fight for the first time. I focus on her hands instead of her face. The same hands that have featured on pandora. A silver chain hangs around her wrist. I don’t know if she meant to hurt me or if she’s wearing it for herself. To look nice. Although, it has never been the latter with her. It still doesn’t mean that her hands look even more visually appealing for the screen. But I keep my compliments to myself. “Aren’t you one piece of work?”

I shoot my head up, look at her and then turn to Jude.

“You won’t be dying a virgin, my dear london. But you’ll definitely be recycling through many boys. That’s what happens when you date a fuck boy, London. He’s hot but a fuck boy. You should have known better. How many times did Ma have to tell you to not let a man tell you more than once that he didn’t want you. This isn’t some Disney film, London.”

I grab the mop Wayne passes over before Jude could whilst trying to keep my breathing consistent. At least I realise this now. But still, two years and five months is still quite a record, even if it’s much shorter than when I discovered Aunt Lucy dead.

“Couldn’t you see right from the very start that this relationship was never going to make it? That you were below his standard? Or were you too busy dreaming to realise how impossible this was. When have you ever seen such a man go for a girl such as yourself? And I had thought you would learn from all those times you used to see Brooke and I crying. How could you be so blind?” She swats the mop out of my mind and grips my wrist, so tight that she prevents any blood flow. “Were you guys even a couple? Maybe, it was just a situationship. Did you know that he has a girlfriend? Or did you not care? I never took you for a cheater.”

I raise my other hand, ready to slap her, but Mike comes over. He clasps my wrist and twists it. “That’s enough. Do you want your second warning? Anyway, since you don’t look all that busy, I need you to drop an order. Take Brad there with you.”