Tabitha
GAUNT MEMORIES
Six o’clock and a siren kicks me from a dream, one that I only half remember - and for that I’m actually thankful. His face was so gaunt and pale that it still rips at my chest, even in the fog of dreams, the memories were like smudged Polaroid’s. Still able to make them out, still able to cry.
But not today. Today, I’ll be strong.
The alarm on my nightstand continued to blared, so I tossed and turned naked in my small single bed. I made a series of audible whines, knowing that there was nobody around to judge me for such things – but still fearing enough that perhaps the upstairs or downstairs neighbors might hear me. My large and sprawling blanket was one of the few things that I’d bothered to actually spend money on. It was one of the things that made me happy. It had lines from some of my favorite books, written in black italics against a milk white base, with blue swirls and stardust reminiscent of Van Gogh.
Picking myself up from bed, I wormed my way out of the blankets and scooted over towards my nightstand. I’d left the AC on all night, and the cold air bit against my pale, bare skin. Shivering, I threw my arms around myself and immediately regretted my decision of being an adult and getting up for work. This was, unfortunately, a common occurrence.
Blinking, I sighed to myself and grabbed my prescription glasses next to the ringing clock. After putting them on, and I was once more allowed to frickin’ see, I reached over to the plug of the alarm and unplugged it. It cut to satisfying silence, and then I carried it by the cord with me, as I moved through my cluttered living room.
The carpet was simple and beige, and it only had a couple of noteworthy stains from sloppily pacing around and eating snacks in the middle of the night.
I know, much less exciting than having a romp during the evening hours. But…I guess I just never considered myself pretty enough to bother with that whole scene. Hell, I hadn’t even gotten laid yet – at least I had toys to pass the time.
Never thought much of myself as a whole, really. Hell the day hadn’t even started yet and I was already internally despairing over the fact my career path of Nerdy Librarian was hitting it’s financial ceiling. Frowning instructively, I carried the alarm clock and went to my dresser, going for the bottom drawer and putting on a quick pair of Doctor Who panties and a plain bra.
11th Doctor, if you were wondering.
The cotton warmed my ass and I was so damn thankful to have something on – I briefly considered just racing for the AC unit, but dismissed it as requiring too much energy at far too early in the morning. I padded over to my desk chair, which was serving as an impromptu laundry basket, and plucked out yesterdays black slacks and a white top, which I brought my nose up to.
Seems fine.
Carring all of that stuff, I padded my way to the kitchen, plugged in my alarm clock, turned on the radio and listened to it as I made a fresh pot of coffee. I truly believed with all of my heart that coffee was the only thing in this whole world that I couldn’t live without, and God help you if you try to take me from it. I knew that my morning ritual of carrying the alarm clock wasn’t practical compared to just using my phone, but it was kind of a habit at this point.
FROM THE RADIO
Catalina ‘Duke’ Darabont: Video footage from the daring and frankly brazen raid on Wolfinger Bank was circulated last night. *Laughs nervously* w-what do you think, uh, what do you think about that, Rick?
‘Rabid’ Rick Rhymes: It’s disgusting, Cat. Absolutely disgusting.
Catalina: Twelve casualties and three confirmed dead that’s, that’s what, lower? Definitely on the lower…scale of things, for them.
Rick: It is, it is. But you can’t let a stat like that make you forget these are people, Cat. And it’s not just them paying for it with blood. No. Cops getting run around like headless chickens, vehicles and buildings damaged – you give someone a machine gun like they did that night…this city thrives on violence.
Catalina: But not like that.
I reached to the top cupboard for my blue mug, went to the fridge for hazelnut cream, and shimmied my way into my slacks.
Rick: Exactly. These figures, and as far as anyone can tell, I mean I’ve done just, just hundreds…of reports on people like these three. They’re making a name for themselves. They want to be up there with Ligotti and Sckeppio and Brenaisse. They wanna be BIG.
Catalina: You mean bigger than they are.
Rick: Yeah, yeah. Oh yeah. This past year their notoriety has shot through the roof. You see the Amigos on InstaGram and Youtube and Christ, there’s people that worship these – pardon my French – motherfuckers on Tumblr! Now the whole world is out to hire these guys…
* * *
Hopping into my silver 2012 Nissan Ultima, I sut the door and stretched over to reach the glove box, popping it open and stuffing back inside a couple of papers. After a little bit of digging, I found my prescription bottle, and undid the lid, placing one green little pill on my tongue.
After starting my car and backing out, I called up my aunt Fiona; I silently thanked the skies about when she didn’t pick up.
Not because I didn’t like her or didn’t want to hear from her.
It was just..I was in one of my moods. She was the only real family I had left, the only real friend that I had left. I convinced myself that she wouldn’t have wanted my company before work today anyway, that I would have just brought her down.
I hated that. Bringing people down to my level.
I left Fee a voice mail saying that I was going to run to the store and get what I needed for the week, and then fall back asleep. I wasn’t lying completely, I was tired – and if there wasn’t anything interesting to ready at my place of work, I’ll probably end up napping.
Everyone at work, it felt like they judged me for that. For sleeping.
Regardless, I wished her well and that I hoped to see her again soon. I told her that she should practice her sword skills, because I fully intended to win our next fencing match on her gaming console. Of course, she’d never need the damn practice, seeing as how she had authentic rapier’s in her home – whatever she worked before retirement, it was a hell of a lot more exciting than anything I or Mom or Dad had ever done.
But that was me…the boring one. Brushed away some of my brown hair and put my hand back to the wheel.
Trouble never found me, life was just too routine.
* * *
I was on my first breack for the night, and I was telling the young Samantha about The Baroness of Isildur. Samantha was an eleven year old girl who made three trips to the library a week with her single father Jim Turl. She was always asking for me, and I could tell that she was a lonely girl. It hurt to see the kid like that, to be alone. It resonated with me. “See, the Baroness is a very brave woman.”
“How Brave?” Sam asked.
“Brave enough to fight pirates in a one on one duel to the death with just a cutlass and her will to live.” This was a favorite of mine, and I had to admit, I wanted to get her to like it simply because I did. “That’s kind of her thing. To do the impossible, by trying the impossible.”
Before I could continue to sell the book to her, the boss lady, Amanda Passadaego encroached on my territory. She shot me that typical annoyed scowl, when she got like this she was really nothing more than a puppet. Aka, guilty of having wood up her extremely stiff ass. “Summers,” she said in that polite to outsiders, I’m-going-to-fire-you to insiders voice. “What are you doing?”
“Miss Passadaego,” I started, adjusting my glasses. “Sorry I’m just on break.”
She said nothing, just kept wearing that scowl. Yep, I’m boned.
I gave her a limited and tight smile, “It’s just, I have five minutes left…so…”
“Does it look like now is a good time to be taking a break?”
I hope that my disdain wasn’t showing on my face, “Is it, uhm, ever a good time?” Said that too sarcastically. Should not have said that.
“Cut it short,” she clipped, “you’re teaching that girl the wrong kind of manners, Summers.” She looked over to Samantha and gave the fakest, most put on smile I’d seen her do in weeks.
I cleared my throat and internally cursed, getting up from the table, “Alright,” I managed to say without moving my jaw. It was the only way to hide my annoyance, or rather, the bulk of it. I turned to Sam, “I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nodded her head so very understandingly, “Promise?”
“Promise,” I smiled, watching her walk away.
When Passagaego saw that the child was on her way, she gave a warning glare and went back to making her rounds.