"Shit! I've got to get the fuck out of here." Steph's warm body slides out from under the blankets. "Fuck its cold." She covers her chest with her arms and like a chicken pecks her clothes off the floor.
The pre dawn world creates an insular atmosphere. It's cold, dark and quite. The windows are black, the night tide suck's the light out of the air leaving the small room gray. I sit up in bed, she went to the bathroom. It feels as if my apartment is in orbit around this small coastal town, the drama cocoons in this small vessel protected for a few more moments from the coldness of space. There are two other satellites in orbit around this story.
Two other astronauts in a similar capsules drift in this black sea. Sitting up in bed my minds eye scans across this town, down the foggy streets, past the town common with its flag pole, past the strip mall with the Safeway and Longs Drugs, over the small houses to the divided highway that stretch the nine miles, around the cold foggy bay, to the small city of E; continueing past old hotels, gas stations, banks and bakeries. Now up the hill, past dark houses and the high school, through an old redwood grove, across a fern covered stream, out of the woods upon an old small house, more of a cottage, darkened except the blue glow of a TV. Here our friends Sarah and Steve are snuggled in a warm narcotic blanket, smoking watching a horror movie on TV.
The other satellite is Steph's, her boyfriend paces its wooden halls waiting for the lost shuttle craft to dock. I don't want to think about that right now.
Stephanie exits the bathroom. She's wearing her socks, panties and bra. She throws her blouse on the bed and starts to struggle into her jeans.
Watching lovers dress fascinates me. She hurries tonight because she's cold, late, and self conscience, but she knows I like to watch and this will be the last time. She said it excites her now. She gives me a smile.
"I'm in so much fucking trouble." Her breasts bounce slightly in red lace as she tosses her head back and ties her brown hair back. She sits on the edge of my bed and pulls on cowboy boots.
The coldness creeps under the covers. I wonder if her boyfriend likes to watch her get dressed. I wonder why she puts her self in such insane situations. The euphoria starts to receded and I get up to put on some pants.
"You don't have to get up."
"You want some coffee?" I ask.
"I don't have time, besides I want to be awake for this train wreck." She looks innocent most of the time, her black framed glasses make her look almost bookish, but she's too calculated to be innocent. She buttons her shirt and then pulls a burgundy wool sweater over her head. "I know he's up waiting for me, Sarah texted and said he called twice." She opens her purse, takes out her pill bottle and walks past me into the kitchen. I searched my closet for a pair of warm socks.
The apartment contracts in the emptiness of space. I felt the heaviness of the event now, the end is minutes away. Throughout the evening we tried to avoid the subject, we never let on that our end was just hours away. We funneled our frustrations through sighs, long looks, to much wine and finally through sex; slowly at first savoring every taste and texture, then furiously hurling ourselves towards the inevitable coming conclusion. I said things to the contrary but I was relieved in most respects that our affair was ending. I felt sad for her and thought she would have a harder time dealing with the situation.
"I left you something on the kitchen table." She smiles quickly flashing me the pink pill between her teeth then chases it down with a glass of OJ.
"I'm going to miss you baby." I say putting on a pout face. I got embarrassed because it came out lame; I started feeling nervous to, like I didn't know her or what to say next. She looked like a stranger. I wanted to either get back in bed with her or for her to leave.
Steph starts to cry, "I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have put you through this. It wasn't fair. I 'm a loser, why do I always fuck shit up so bad. I feel so over the top you know. Fuck it's the night before I'm leaving and I spend the night with you I'm such a bad person, He's home waiting. Oh fuck its like four thirty in the morning." Her skinny hands start waving around her head like she was just hit with the realty of what she has been doing for the past three months. Then she stops and steps back like the wind has been knocked out of her, a wave of pharmaceutical euphoria. "Wow, shit. I don't usually take two of those."
"Well I guess this is a special occasion" I say half joking.
She's gone. For the next ten minuets I talk to a frantic happy robot who can't look me in the eye. She says things which she thinks are witty, but because they are half true they come off sad. She goes over the top on how much she'll miss me, Sarah and work.
"You gonna be all right to drive?" I ask.
"Ohh, I'm so fucking sorry baby, I'm so fucking sorry, I shouldn't have put you through all this." She says trying to not laugh.
"Girl you are a fucking mess." I had to laugh.
She gets so fucked up you have to take care of her. She makes you exasperated then falls at your feet helpless like a baby bird falling out of its nest. As you pick up the baby bird to return it to its nest it tries to bite you with its frail beak. My fingers are calloused now and feel only a pinch.
We hugged and she walked down the hallway, her hand on the wall. She turned trying to be dramatic and gave me a sad look before she descended down the stairway. I went to the window waited for her to appear. I was nervous; would she be able to drive? Or would she end up in a ditch somewhere. She finally arrived out on the sidewalk smoking and running to her car. She was quick, unlocked the car got in and drove off without a hitch.
She left me three bars of zanax in an envelope with her friends address so I could write her without her boyfriend knowing. I took one of the pills with her left over OJ. I wondered if she will ever tell anyone the whole truth. I wondered for any given situation how many different versions of the truth there were; one for the boyfriend, one for the lover, the friend ,the girlfriend, the boss, the dealer, the parents, people she just met and so on and so on. I felt the zanax kick in and laid down. I smelt her peach body lotion on my warm sheets. (Now a pang of lonliness and her guilty smile smeel like peaches.)
"Stephanie Anne Reily...Stephennie Anne Reily...Stephennie Anne Reily" She repeated the mantra all the way home. The rocky coast line barely visible through the darkness. She was sent to a psychologist in high school, her first psychologist only used drugs as a last resort, a trend that is passé. She had a tendency to become so overwhelmed with anxiety she mentally split herself into pieces and learned to adopt different roles to act through each situation. Although this situationaly worked, because she was playing different roles for different situations, her "self" was shattered.
She used her mantra like a bull horn in her head drowning out all other thoughts, not so much focusing on herself like she was suppose to , just blocking everything else out. It was hard to keep this process successful for any length of time and soon the screams of the situation at hand became harder and harder to drowned out. Leaving the warmth of her lover, to succumb to her boyfriends anger. The black ocean was a mirage of the oblivion she craved.
As she approached her drive way she throws his phone number out the window. As she does she thinks about him, then she gets scared and doubts everything and wants to turn the car around and... "Stephanie Anne fucking Reily, Stephanie fucking Anne Riely, her eyes well up with tears as parks the car. 'I just have to get out of this town and away from these people and Jeff will take care of me and I'll work and just come home and, tomorrow I'll start tomorrow. Ill try to be good. Steph we'll be good won't we. Jesus please let us be good." She chews a sleeping pill as she walks up the lighted stairs. The morning dew was thick and she could hear the TV. Maybe ten minutes of hell before oblivion sweeps through.
The pre dawn world creates an insular atmosphere. It's cold, dark and quite. The windows are black, the night tide suck's the light out of the air leaving the small room gray. I sit up in bed, she went to the bathroom. It feels as if my apartment is in orbit around this small coastal town, the drama cocoons in this small vessel protected for a few more moments from the coldness of space. There are two other satellites in orbit around this story.
Two other astronauts in a similar capsules drift in this black sea. Sitting up in bed my minds eye scans across this town, down the foggy streets, past the town common with its flag pole, past the strip mall with the Safeway and Longs Drugs, over the small houses to the divided highway that stretch the nine miles, around the cold foggy bay, to the small city of E; continueing past old hotels, gas stations, banks and bakeries. Now up the hill, past dark houses and the high school, through an old redwood grove, across a fern covered stream, out of the woods upon an old small house, more of a cottage, darkened except the blue glow of a TV. Here our friends Sarah and Steve are snuggled in a warm narcotic blanket, smoking watching a horror movie on TV.
The other satellite is Steph's, her boyfriend paces its wooden halls waiting for the lost shuttle craft to dock. I don't want to think about that right now.
Stephanie exits the bathroom. She's wearing her socks, panties and bra. She throws her blouse on the bed and starts to struggle into her jeans.
Watching lovers dress fascinates me. She hurries tonight because she's cold, late, and self conscience, but she knows I like to watch and this will be the last time. She said it excites her now. She gives me a smile.
"I'm in so much fucking trouble." Her breasts bounce slightly in red lace as she tosses her head back and ties her brown hair back. She sits on the edge of my bed and pulls on cowboy boots.
The coldness creeps under the covers. I wonder if her boyfriend likes to watch her get dressed. I wonder why she puts her self in such insane situations. The euphoria starts to receded and I get up to put on some pants.
"You don't have to get up."
"You want some coffee?" I ask.
"I don't have time, besides I want to be awake for this train wreck." She looks innocent most of the time, her black framed glasses make her look almost bookish, but she's too calculated to be innocent. She buttons her shirt and then pulls a burgundy wool sweater over her head. "I know he's up waiting for me, Sarah texted and said he called twice." She opens her purse, takes out her pill bottle and walks past me into the kitchen. I searched my closet for a pair of warm socks.
The apartment contracts in the emptiness of space. I felt the heaviness of the event now, the end is minutes away. Throughout the evening we tried to avoid the subject, we never let on that our end was just hours away. We funneled our frustrations through sighs, long looks, to much wine and finally through sex; slowly at first savoring every taste and texture, then furiously hurling ourselves towards the inevitable coming conclusion. I said things to the contrary but I was relieved in most respects that our affair was ending. I felt sad for her and thought she would have a harder time dealing with the situation.
"I left you something on the kitchen table." She smiles quickly flashing me the pink pill between her teeth then chases it down with a glass of OJ.
"I'm going to miss you baby." I say putting on a pout face. I got embarrassed because it came out lame; I started feeling nervous to, like I didn't know her or what to say next. She looked like a stranger. I wanted to either get back in bed with her or for her to leave.
Steph starts to cry, "I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have put you through this. It wasn't fair. I 'm a loser, why do I always fuck shit up so bad. I feel so over the top you know. Fuck it's the night before I'm leaving and I spend the night with you I'm such a bad person, He's home waiting. Oh fuck its like four thirty in the morning." Her skinny hands start waving around her head like she was just hit with the realty of what she has been doing for the past three months. Then she stops and steps back like the wind has been knocked out of her, a wave of pharmaceutical euphoria. "Wow, shit. I don't usually take two of those."
"Well I guess this is a special occasion" I say half joking.
She's gone. For the next ten minuets I talk to a frantic happy robot who can't look me in the eye. She says things which she thinks are witty, but because they are half true they come off sad. She goes over the top on how much she'll miss me, Sarah and work.
"You gonna be all right to drive?" I ask.
"Ohh, I'm so fucking sorry baby, I'm so fucking sorry, I shouldn't have put you through all this." She says trying to not laugh.
"Girl you are a fucking mess." I had to laugh.
She gets so fucked up you have to take care of her. She makes you exasperated then falls at your feet helpless like a baby bird falling out of its nest. As you pick up the baby bird to return it to its nest it tries to bite you with its frail beak. My fingers are calloused now and feel only a pinch.
We hugged and she walked down the hallway, her hand on the wall. She turned trying to be dramatic and gave me a sad look before she descended down the stairway. I went to the window waited for her to appear. I was nervous; would she be able to drive? Or would she end up in a ditch somewhere. She finally arrived out on the sidewalk smoking and running to her car. She was quick, unlocked the car got in and drove off without a hitch.
She left me three bars of zanax in an envelope with her friends address so I could write her without her boyfriend knowing. I took one of the pills with her left over OJ. I wondered if she will ever tell anyone the whole truth. I wondered for any given situation how many different versions of the truth there were; one for the boyfriend, one for the lover, the friend ,the girlfriend, the boss, the dealer, the parents, people she just met and so on and so on. I felt the zanax kick in and laid down. I smelt her peach body lotion on my warm sheets. (Now a pang of lonliness and her guilty smile smeel like peaches.)
"Stephanie Anne Reily...Stephennie Anne Reily...Stephennie Anne Reily" She repeated the mantra all the way home. The rocky coast line barely visible through the darkness. She was sent to a psychologist in high school, her first psychologist only used drugs as a last resort, a trend that is passé. She had a tendency to become so overwhelmed with anxiety she mentally split herself into pieces and learned to adopt different roles to act through each situation. Although this situationaly worked, because she was playing different roles for different situations, her "self" was shattered.
She used her mantra like a bull horn in her head drowning out all other thoughts, not so much focusing on herself like she was suppose to , just blocking everything else out. It was hard to keep this process successful for any length of time and soon the screams of the situation at hand became harder and harder to drowned out. Leaving the warmth of her lover, to succumb to her boyfriends anger. The black ocean was a mirage of the oblivion she craved.
As she approached her drive way she throws his phone number out the window. As she does she thinks about him, then she gets scared and doubts everything and wants to turn the car around and... "Stephanie Anne fucking Reily, Stephanie fucking Anne Riely, her eyes well up with tears as parks the car. 'I just have to get out of this town and away from these people and Jeff will take care of me and I'll work and just come home and, tomorrow I'll start tomorrow. Ill try to be good. Steph we'll be good won't we. Jesus please let us be good." She chews a sleeping pill as she walks up the lighted stairs. The morning dew was thick and she could hear the TV. Maybe ten minutes of hell before oblivion sweeps through.
