Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Excerpt from Damaged...a Novel

Something wasn’t right.
She knew when she was startled awake. There was no noise, no smell, nothing observable as out of sorts.

Yet there was, and it sat in the pit of her stomach.

It was noon as she rolled out of bed. Sleeping in was part of the norm. As life cascaded around her bubble, she had no cares for it.It just was. So be it.

Looking at the mirror mesmerized by the glazed eyes peering back. The face read tired. Screamed of the previous evening’s drug induced reverie, Jim Morrison’s “American Dream” and a pseudo-Russian friend, Popov.

Ugh…wiping her face with a cold wet cloth. More than just seeing, the vodka permeating from her pores wafting into the air.Stale. With interludes of smoke.
The smell and
Who she sees.

Hours later, as she leaves for work a message lays on the table:

“Rob called”
Ugh.Why? What the hell does he want? It has been a year and a few since they last spoke. A year of quiet.

Throwing the paper and the thoughts in the trash.
Existence moves on.
With a sickening feeling still sitting in the bowels.
An uncertainty of it, was it truly the all night escape disguised as fun? Or was there something else? Something ethereal?

She moved through the following months with such a lack of wanting, that her stagnation proclaimed supreme.
No outward exaltations. Nothing.

A year out of College. A year holding, no gripping that degree. And here she sat in a job that lacked luster. Lacked the sparkle that filled her dreams as a little girl.

Slinging pizza as opposed to hash. Although hash, right then, sounded more promising for some strange reason.

For months her dreams were filled with startling hues.Deep colors. Deep mournful shades. Every morning she would awake the same. Her stomach tied around her throat.

Something was not right.

Dancing the life fantastic. Mundane. Drab.

And he crossed her mind.
And he crossed her mind.
Again and again.

His name.His voice.

Something was not right.

In a fit of boredom welled in curiosity, she picked up the phone. One ring. Two.
By the third ring she relived their last moments:

{Graduation morning, she awoke to a vase filled with fifty(yes fifty) daisies, sitting on her desk. A scrawled script in black pen accompanied the arrangement:

“Thank you for everything. These 4 years would not have come to fruition, if I didn’t have you. I should have done this sooner. Love, Mark”

Should have done this sooner? What is that? Theirs was a friendship, unlike no other. A trust. A brutal honesty. Built with a love, platonic, yet love. Of just being and enjoying. Just friends.

However, she would not lie if asked, she loved him. Down to her core. Yet he did not feel that in the same ideal as she. He had his love.

Pomp and circumstance and that , they sat together and shared a bottle of champagne. When all was said and done, and the real world called, she felt a hand upon her elbow, “What?”

His face all serious, “This is it ya know?”
”This is what?”
”Make me a promise” his fingers wrapped around her hand.

She couldn’t help but giggle, “A promise? You have had too much vino.”
”Please”, an urgency filled his voice.

They stood face to face as peers hugged and laughed, some cried all around them. In that space there was silence amongst the chaos.
He held her hands in his,”Promise when we move from this spot, and go to our own ways, You won’t look back. Never.” Confused by his words her heart dropped a mile to the center of the earth, “Promise.”
Leaving with an embrace, that to this day, she can still smell him.

The memory bubble popped by an elderly woman’s voice, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

Back to where she was, “Oh, my hello! It’s me. How are you?” Her pause frightened her, what came forth scared her more, “I have been waiting for this call. It’s taken a few months. I couldn’t find your number and I recall Rob had tried to reach you…”

The room swirled with impending doom.
“Rob should have been more insistent. Mark was in a terrible state. After the accident and all those months…”

“Wait, wait…Hospital? Accident?”

“Yes, dear, he was in a serious car accident. We were trying to find you…”
Terror ripped through, laced with guilt.
Rob called, he did call.

“Oh I don’t mean to alarm you now, Mark is better. Yet for a while there we weren’t sure he would make it or not be permanently damaged. Ya know?”
A silence.
She had no response, just utter shock of hearing these words. Damaged.

The woman continued, “ He was out and living that fast life, crashed his car. He was in a coma for almost two months. It was quite touch and go.”Touch and Go.....To be continued....


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posted by Jod{i} at 3/26/2013 11:29:00 AM, |