Saturday, 28 February 2015

'Angel' Megan Turner

As I’m preparing salads in the kitchen, Jamie tells me that he went fishing with this girl the other evening, but assured it ‘wasn’t like that’ and asks me if was okay with it. I reply, questioning why that should matter to me.                                                                                                                                                             The face goes from smile to sinister as the atmosphere changes from awkward to unbearable. He pushes past me and goes to sit outside to have a cigarette. Eerie silence is sometimes better than hopeless talk. I question at times whether this is normal or not.
I’m offered a moody lift home by him after the shift but I walk instead. I’ve always preferred walking.                                                                                                                                                       I stumble through the front door and up the stairs shaking, feeling blood flood around my body. My mind rushes uncontrollably, along with my heart which races at the speed of lightening, zapping me perpetually. I can barely breathe. I sit on my bed rocking myself backwards and forwards feeling trapped inside of my body. I run about my room like a headless chicken, unable to keep myself still. Ghostly wails murmuring gibberish. Frustration ran through me like waves crashing, tearing at my every limb as I shake with an outer-body experience of helpless bewilderment.                                                                                                    I resume back to the same position on my bed. Remaining that way until morning. I’m surprised the lodgers never heard my screams. But then again, they never seemed to notice before.
My alarms go off startling me from a drained yet wired daze and I set off again for another shift, still dressed in my work clothes. I ponder on my way, as I look out to sea, imagining what it would be like to board one of the ships and just keep sailing. The day hasn’t seemed so bad. The others are working too as it’s the weekend and the restaurant is always hectically busy, so there was barely a second to spare for talk. But we always found the time to give each other a little smile along the way. Even Jamie.

‘I care about you’. Those constant words ring in my head. I am perplexed by his overall actions and intentions.

Everybody left me and Joavan to end the shift. As Jamie left, he told me that he’d come back in a couple of hours when we were done and take me out. I was propelled to confide in somebody. So I spoke to Joavan. To my relieved surprise he seemed to faintly understand. He told me that Jamie had been a bit curious with somebody else before. Confused, I pried him for answers but got nothing. Until just as we’d finished up, he told me her name. Mabbie.                                                                                                                         
I needed to speak with her.

It was my day off, I ignore the candlestick ringing as I leave the house. He’s not going to be best pleased tomorrow. I wonder if I do not already see him enough anyway.                                                                   I arranged to meet Mabbie at the beach. I feel scared. After a while I eased enough to confront her.            Somehow, after chatting a while, comparing, we found our scenarios almost too similar to be real. And then…we formed a plan like no other.

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