|
Water dripped, splash, splash, on the mosaic tiled bathroom floor, each a small distraction to her
conscience, she stepped lightly, on tip toe, from the shower; she realized, she did not recall how she
had arrived, or where she had arrived; pausing to check the mirror. Tucking wet strands of blond hair
behind an ear, she wondered if she'd had a good time.
There had been, hour stolen from her life, days of endless nightmares, from whence there might
be no return; parties she just could not recall. How had she gotten here? An unspoken question,
sounded quiet in her ear, enveloping her mind, grew louder, crescendo, deafening, then faded with each
deep breath. A single drop slid, falling into the deep of awareness, splashed, ebbed then vanished down
the drain, from her nose. Wrapping tighter, a soft blue cotton towel,warm; the echoed question still
sounding, she dragged fingers through her wavy curls; shook her head, droplets splashed the tile, each
a ballet in performance. A smile creased her lips, recognition at last, the nightclub, the memory teased
her subconscious, tickling her emotions; though still a blur, patches strobbed, flickers of the past nights
festivities.
"Are you alright, in there?"
Her entire body convulsed. Just as memory, a sun, rising over the eastern hill of her mind,
bringing the dawn of reality, a new twist. A wrinkled brow, a face in deeper thought; fighting to
remember who the owner of the voice, stared back at her. Another droplet slipped off her nose. Fighting
hard to remember, she couldn't face the stranger, in the other room, or was it a friend. Oh! Who is out
there? Think, think, she commanded herself, dawn had not yet broken in her mind, a light mist still
covered most of her resent, past memories. She struggled on, undaunted, tapping the side of her head
with the heel of her hand; shaking the puzzle pieces into place. She turned the water on, the cold water
could assist, reviving those lost events, she splashed her face. Stared hard at the reflection; a distant
familiarity winked into view, struggled to become light, faded before she could catch it.
Another droplet, slip and plummeted from the tip of her nose, it's offspring jumped on impact,
rejoined and added to itself, glided down the drain. In her mind, she waited for the sun, remembrance,
to climb higher than the mountains of lost images, lost memory; only a greasy fog that floated,
shrouding all things, just within mind's view.
Cold water splashed again, a puzzle piece leaped into position, snug in its place; a sharp pain
erupted at her left instep, she held the basin for balance against falling. Looking down, noticed the
bruised, scratched, and scrapped top of her instep; she recalled being dragged down some flight of
stairs; by whom,unknown, just the constant flash of pain, with every step, descended. She'd lost a shoe
that evening, where, when, how, still hid behind the mist, behind the mountains.
In the depths, music played; the kind she liked, soft easy music, growing in intensity. She
struggled to remember. There had been music that night, the sound, now booming in her ears, she splashed
again, that tempered the music, turned the volume down.
"Can you turn that down?"
"Turn what down?"
Again the voice from the outer room, soothing, relaxing, precious, even comforting, non aggressive.
Maybe yes, he was a friend? Her surrounding, another jigsaw piece fell into place, became very familiar, she
come here often, the place was safe. She smiled at her reflection. He was a good friend, one she could count
on. Her heart warmed to the memory. It lasted a short time, a more resent recollection emerged. The
mist was clearing. Memory came flooded back, a swarm, like bees, a tidal wave. The first chance.
Wide eyed she stared, her reflection stared right back, unblinking. Four days wasted, lying in a
hospital bed. All her friends thinking her dead.
She had been out with her ex-boyfriend. She hated him, she'd thought. She was wrong, and at his
friend's place. There was drinking, music, merriment, there were also drugs. Drugs of all kinds. She'd used
them in the past, used them now, but there was one there that almost took her life once. She recall, her
boyfriend, at the time administering that seringe, her first time. She'd died that night. He had left her,
lying in a pool of her own vomit, eyes rolling back, convulsing, on the floor. That first time someone
called for assistance. They'd rushed her to a hospital. The boyfriend was sent to jail, for his part.
She was, realizing at
first, she was happy to see him, though it was the drug she remembered most. How it had nearly taken her most
precious possession, her life. She was stupid then, she had learned from that experience, so she told
herself, no more chances.
Her knees buckled, as the final memory exploded into consciousness, sustained her balance, held
the counter tightly. No, she'd had not learned. She was weakminded, the life of parties. Through drinking, drugs, and
prostitution, several years had been lost to her, but she would never use that particular drug again.
She'd told herself over and over. She felt the water, colder than at first, turned it off. Standing straight,
glared at the mirror. A day ago she had been released from the hospital, again.
"Idiot!" She chastised, "how could you do this to me." Tears welled, one cascaded slowly down
her cheek, fell. Lost in a watery grave, down the drain. Another began the slide, she wiped it
away.
"This will never happen to me again, never." But it had. This being the second time.
"Are you coming out, I need to use the washroom?" The smooth voice sounded from just beyond the other
side of her memories, and the door.
Outside he stood, with a broad smile across his face, as she unlocked and opened the door. She
smiled broadened in recognition.
"Thanks. So, how does it feel being the walking dead?"
Mist evaporated, the sun was high above the mountains now. She could see clearly, at last.
Yes, she met her ex-boyfriend at a party. Had meant to tell him off for what had happened years ago. The
drink had dulled her senses, she was vulnerable, weak. He had started with the soft drugs, smoked some, made lines on the table. Then, he had reached into his jacket, withdrew the small square packet.
She was too high to realize what was happening. They replayed the scene as before, he prepared the
seringe, the one she had sworn, never again, years ago. Watched as he slid it into her flesh, as a
crimson cloud billowed as he pulled back the plunger, ever so slightly. Then as he push it home, and released her
arm. She recalled her head spinning, then the room spinning. Everything was muddy, unfocused, veiled.
Then nothing.
There were moments when she would regain some awareness, some. The instances when she
was in a tub clothed, the water icy cold, someone was trying to hold her head down, as she struggled for air.
The water had covered her face. She recalled being dragged down a long flights of stairs, only one shoe
keeping out pain, metal stair edges dug into her instep. Recalled too, being left in a dark field, or
yard, her recollection came in snatches. She remembered someone pounding on her chest, and
someone saying she was 'fibbing'. Being raised and placed on a bed, jostled. She also recalled, horror
etched on her face, someone pronounced her dead.
She had fought to live, and alive she was.
She wrapped her arms around him, she felt safe here. He made her comfortable. Here she came to rest
after her long days and nights, in the nasty world outside. Here he would make her feel at home, make
her well again. She loved being here.
"So you've been given another chance, to mess up you life. When will you learn? I can't help, if
your out partying every night. Stay here with me, get your strength back." He scolded emerging from
the bathroom. "You scared me, more than you will ever know. We all thought your were dead." Taking
a seat on the corner of the bed. "You've got to slow down. You need a vacation from your lifestyle."
"I do need a break. Maybe I could visit my folks?" She cross and sat next to him. "Can I borrow
those shoes, the hospital can't find mine."
"First day back, and already your after my shoes. Sure, why not? You will take care of them,
right?"
"Yes, and can I borrow a top?"
"You already have most of my shirts, you have my shorts, and my track pants. Go ahead. Why
not?" He reclined, on elbows. "So...?"
"So..., what?" She answered, wiggling into her jeans.
"So what are your plans?"
"First, I need a drink. Then, I would like a blast." She couldn't look at him, knowing, a look of
disappointment covered his face.
"Listen, I can't go through this anymore. You waltz in, disrupt my life, and waltz out. I don't see
you for weeks and months. When you need to rest from your partying, you breeze in and complicate my
life. You won't stay here. You come and go. I'm tired." He tried to sound harsh, failed. He cared for her
too much. He always would. She knew it.
"I'll be okay, trust me." she finished dressing, doing her makeup, from pieces she had left behind
the last time she showed up unexpectedly, she was beautiful. Waved and left.
Three days later.
He looked up, stepped clear of the curb, several grocery bags dangled from his fists. Worried
wrinkles knitted his brow. He couldn't believe his eyes. He called out, but was not heard. He watched her climbed the steps, walk through the door. It closed, a thud with finality. He continued on, a single tear slid down his cheek. Enveloped in sadness, remorse stabbed repeatedly at his heart.
He'd recalled that house.
She had died there, died there twice.
|
