constance

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constance sat hunched over on on the edge of the bed, body aching. "fuck..." moshe and ash whimpered, resting their heads on her lap and licking at her fingertips. "it's okay, guys. momma is fine." she leaned over the bed and snatched up a a pair of bottles. zofram and dilaudid. first came the zofram which dissolved on her tongue and kept her from throwing up the pain medicine that came next. even when she moved, the dogs refused to leave her be. they had taken to keeping close to the fragile cellist.

"let's go find lucian, puppies. i need him now." she felt like she could possibly die that very moment, paranoia setting in she needed to profess her adoration for the cinderella soot boy. she gathered up the leashes and stumbled for the door, braving the could and a four block walk to go to his work. but the dogs behaved and stayed at her flank, making the walk more bearable. while she tried to stay strong, she broke in to tears block three and they never stopped flowing.

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"Do not fear death so much, but rather the inadequate life."
- Bertolt Brecht

"What is this," she hissed through clenched teeth when eyes dropped to the gutter and the crushed glass mosiac that had been assembled from broken beer bottles and crushed syringes. Constance swallowed the skeleton of stillborn words with a mouthful of cheap vodka and sutured thick lips together in a frown. The wardrum throb of her heart and woodwind of blackened lungs created a brilliant symphony of life with each movement she made. Long legs fell into stride with the ghosts of businessmen who hours before had rushed the sidewalk in a mass exodus of steel castles. The metal skyline heaven was cast a glance; God lived in a penthouse. Sharp-toothed shadows chomped at her heels, urging her to move faster still. Angry arms of darkness dragged her through the spiderweb tangle of city streets, but she was not one with them. Tonight she was a blur of color that streaked across the grim background of the asphalt purgatory. A phoenix amongst the ashes and ruin of an once upon a time life. Constance held no fear of the demons that dwelled just out of sight. Where there was blood in the gutter and sin in the street, she was at home. The inksplashed goddess watched the world through a looking glass, not experiencing only observing the trials and tribulations of others. "It's my turn to be brave," she murmured into the hollow curve of a gloved hand. "It's my turn to survive." Grimeslick lines ran lines down her face into the quarry of her mouth where teeth split the stitch of her lips as they were drawn out wide. The night would be hers, if only for the fleeting hours when the moon queen held firm her reign over the sky. She would lay beside her king and watch him breathe, fingers tripwalking the length of his chest to feel the throb of his heart.

"I'm going to beat this."

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"i had a dream last night," constance caught the rest of her words on the tip of her tongue to leave the mess of a girl in suspense. she shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfort zone in between a slouch and sprawl. veruca was carving out shapes in her cheek.

"oh yeah? about what?"

"i died."

veruca sat in silence across from the cellist, drawing her knees up into her chest. she found the words to say but they lost all meaning in the static between her ears, so she sat in silence and waited for a further response.

"but that wasn't the part that upset me. i couldn't remember his face."

"whose face?"

"lucian's."

"oh.."

"what?" constance's brows knit together and her eyes sought out an explanation in her eyes.

"i dunno, it's just-- do you love him?"

"yes."

"why?"

"because he's beautiful."

"what kind of fuckin' medicine do they have you on, pocahontas?"

and they both laughed and laughed trying to decipher the meaning of their smiles.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ January 13, 2007 10:39 PM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

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"miss duke?" doctor wainwright sat on the small stool staring up at the inkfouled cellist, trying to decipher her facial expressions after delivering the news. the flood of emotion made it hard to pick out what exactly constance was feeling, but the tears that flushed from green eyes made it easier to decide. "constance?"

"y-yeah?" she pryed her scarf from her head, displaying sprouting brown hair that refused to give into the chemotherapy, something the rest of her body had forgotten through the constant influx of drugs.

"are you alright to drive home?" a hand outstretched to gently pat her knee, feeling every jut of bone beneath the paper thin skin. her eyes tracked the intricate design of ink from her wrists to her shoulders and down her chest. she had seen it so many times before but still, she found something new everytime she tried to search. "is that a new tattoo?" her fingers motioned toward the scrawl of black ink over her chest. a name; lucian.

"lucian? heh, yeah. i haven't shown him yet, he'll probably slap me."

"you really love that kid, huh?" her smile was small, but genuine. a woman like constance deserved to be in love, to know how wonderful it was to be alive.

"yeah, i do. i should probably get going, i need to call and tell him." she tugged her shirt over her head and grabbed her bag. "thanks for everything you've done for me, doc."

"i'll talk to you soon, constance." she offered what comfort she could in a squeeze to the woman's shoulder before releasing her.

the willowy cellist cut a path to the door and out the clinic's front doors, carefully craddling her phone between her shoulder and ear as she fumbled through her bags for the keys. the ringing on the other end ceased when she heard lucian's hello.

"the cancer is in remission." in her mind, it was better than hello.

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october 2006


"what is it like?" jamal warren was one of the students that made working at the inner city school worth it. bright and eager to learn, he excelled on the violin and constance was determined to get him into julliard like he had dreamed of for so long.

"what is what like, jamal?" she peered at him from over her desk, pausing her paper grading to give him her full attention.

"dying?"

his question caught constance off guard and it showed when her jaw went slack and eyes widened slightly. lips cut into a frown, lower lip getting sucked into her mouth and pinned by her top row of teeth. fingers rubbed along the curve of her jaw before opening into a craddle to rest her chin. "well, it's only dying if you give up, jamal. i haven't given up yet, so i don't consider it dying. i'm struggling to survive, but i sure as hell am not dying yet." her frown faded into a small smile, eyes cutting from her student toward the door and back.

"oh."

"why did you wanna know, kiddo?" she dropped her hand and folded it into the other on top of half graded papers. "is everything alright?" worry ran in avenues along sunstained skin, furrowing brows and downturning lips.

"i was just wondering, you've gotten so skinny. you just look so sick. i just wanted to know what it felt like." his shoulders hitched up in a shrug as she draped the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. his violin case was hoisted up and he made no hesitation in heading for the door for a quick exit.

"i know i do. but i'm not dy-- catch ya later kiddo!" her words trailed after him, cut off when the door clicked into its frame. she dragged a hand down her face, smearing lines of grime and blue ink down sunsmeared skin. despite the cancer that coursed through black tar veins, constance refused to believe she was dying. no, constance duke would never admit defeat to a disease. she was going to survive this.

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sleep ached against the stretch of bonework beneath skin, while the rest of her body ached for movement. "mmph, have a good day, baby," a garbled farewell as she buried her face back into the belly of her pillow. sweat stained bedsheets were tangled around her like a spiderweb, holding her down, keeping her safe. it was only after she heard the door click shut that his absence finally registered in the dormant synapses. "bye!" she called after him, not fully realizing it was too late until yelping dogs came barrelling into the bedroom and sniffing at the edges of the bed.

"hey guys," she murmured, reluctantly sitting up to scratch behind the ear of the mutts. "goood morning boys, I'll take you guy for a walk in a..." words trailed off as her fingertips grazed paper beneath her pillow, "minute." carefully she pulled it away from the sandwich between her pillow and the bed.

she thumbed it open and wiped the sleep from her eyes so she could focus. sinking back into the bed, her breath caught in her throat and her vocal chords asphyxiated; constance was silent. a swell of tears ( which she would always blame on her medicine ) dripped at the corners of her eyes only to be smeared away the back of her palm. constance broke into laughter, suddenly enough to startle the dogs, and made no attempt to try and smother her laughter.

"oh god, boys, this is wonderful. so wonderful." the dogs look startled, because it was so rare they saw constance smile and laugh these days. "i'm gonna get dressed and do something with this..." hands waved around her head and the brown hairs sprouting from her skull. "ahaha, maybe i'll wear a barrette. i don't thing my hair is long enough for that shit." and ancient bones did not groan in resistance this morning when constance crawled from her blanket casket. "c'mon, i'm gonna put bows on you guys, make you look dashing."

this morning constance woke up with a smile on her face.

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<center>

dream me, oh dreamer!
down to the floor,
open my hands and let them
weave onto yours.
feel me, completer
down to my core
open my heart and let it
bleed onto yours.</center>

tv on the radio "wolf like me"

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the wind piped the perfect ballad for the waltz of rose red fabric around the bow of her knees. it was on the days when the weather was unseasonably warm that constance shed the second skin of stolen clothes and resurrected the ghost gowns of summertime. tulips crowded the dip of her chin, framing her face in a myriad of brilliant colors until her hands dropped the bouquet down to the cut of sharp hips. inkfouled fingers tripwalked the curve of her skull where hair now sprouted in rebellion before dropping off at the junction of her neck.

for the first time in weeks constance was free of sniffling, yelping dogs and found herself at a loss in direction without being tugged at the high end of a leash. she smothered a sigh with the butt of a cigarette, long since neglected by needy lips. lungs burned with black tar but her veins pulsed with some small measure of pleasure over the sudden spur of nicotine. swallowed by the city, constance navigated the spiderweb tangle of side streets and back alleys through the veins in the back of her hand.

and it was on those days when the city swallowed constance and the sun leaked into her smile, that she swore she could feel the tickle of god's fingers along the traintrack of her spine.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ January 13, 2007 10:38 PM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

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hold your glass up, hold it in
never betray the way you've always known it is.
one day i'll be wondering how
i got so old just wondering how
i never got cold wearing nothing in the snow.


constance awoke to the shins bleeding through the speakers in the catalina and the lick of morning breath against the swan's slope of her neck. fingers fanned out across the curve of lucian's jaw, tripwalking down his neck and over the mountain range of his collarbone. sun splintered through the fogged back windshield, keeping the cold at bay. buried beneath layers of clothing from previous camping trips in the middle of nowhere, the winter chill was bearable against exposed skin.

she brushed a kiss to the corner of his lips, body stretching out in a leonine sprawl before sinking into his again. in the early morning hours, when he was still swallowed by street and asphyxiated by dreams, that constance wished she could keep him like this... so peaceful.

"just stay with me, just a little longer."

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she breeched the hollowed halls of saint catherine's catholic church just as the sun had staked his claim on the noon sky. splintering through the stained glass windows, light painted the worn pews a myriad of brilliant shades; greens, blues, reds. constance duke was the daughter of a catholic prostitute who had attended sunday mass every week. she, however, hadn't stepped inside of a church for twelve years, but it was here between the cherry oak pews that she found solace. comfort in a god she couldn't bring herself to believe in up until two weeks prior. down on her knees, hands clasped together with a mind bloated with prayer.

"i've never seen you here before," said the priest from the end of the pew while he slid into a sitting position. her eyes cut to their corners, watching him lazily before closing her eyes and returning to her silent prayer. "i didn't mean to interrupt, i apologize, i just try to get to know the parishioners." his voice leaked into her consciousness a moment later as she eased up onto her feet and turned to face him.

"i'm not part of your parish, father," it was a quiet reply as she side shuffled toward the aisle.

"oh, i'm sorry to hear that."

"it's just--" she began before silencing herself abruptly, continuing her shuffle toward the end of the pew's length.

"it's just what?"

"i've never had many reasons to believe in god, father."

"why is that, my de--"

"constance, my name is constance."

"sorry, why is that, constance?"

"a lot of reasons."

the father sat silent for a moment, rubbing the sprouting stubble at the bottom of his chin. his browline distorted briefly and he sunk into thought before waving away the ghosts of advice with a shake of his head. "will you come speak to me about it, sometime? tomorrow i won't be busy for most of the day..."

"i don't know, i feel like a whiner if i say all my reasons."

"i pass no judgement, constance, i just want to better understand your lack of faith."

her shoulders lifted in defeat, shrugging off the burden of hesitation. her head dipped in a nod as she finally slipped passed the priest into the aisle. fingers smoothed down the ruined jeans, trying to make them look somewhat presentable. "how is four?"

"that is fine, i'll be waiting."

"wonderful, have a good day." with a wave of her hand in a mock salute, she cut a line toward the door with the priest's goodbyes and god bless chomping on her heels.