Sanity now and beyond me - Violence Undone

[khaoticbliss]

Know what I did on Beltane?

I cleaned.

I cleaned like a lightning bolt from the christian god himself had been ram-rodded straight down my spine, like I was expecting the second coming and trying to look busy. I cleaned for eighteen hours straight until there was nothing left to clean, and then I cleaned the cleanliness just to make sure.

Why? Because what the fuck else is a heathen like me supposed to do on May Day alone in her house by herself?

I give up. I quit. I'm done. It's over. Enough.

Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck it. Fuck off.

I'm so over this.

No more.

[khaoticbliss]

Two days. It was the golden rule, the unspoken promise, the wordless contract one person made with another whenever phone numbers were exchanged. Whatever the circumstances, wherever you fell on the drunk to sober continuum, no matter how nice or neat or sick or desperate or lonely. Two days. A pact made between whispering souls in the glances exchanged between two mechanical animal bodies.

One day was reserved for the desperate lonelies. The crazies, the obsessives, the haven't-gotten-laid in seven years-es, the stalkers, the murderers, the wannabes. One day said I have absolutely nothing better to do. It screamed you're the only person dumb enough to give me your number and I intend to abuse it mercilessly. It reeked of no life, no plans, no aspirations, no goals. It said you're the only thing I've got going, which is only romantic if you've known someone for decades. One day was out.

Three days was similarly excluded, but for different reasons. Three days was too long. Three days made you an afterthought, a second best, a consolation prize. Three days said This was the earliest opportunity when my significant other was out of range long enough to call you. Or worse, no one else I called has called me back and you're the last number I've got. Three days meant too much to do to pay attention to you, whether it included other people or not. It meant you weren't important enough to merit the illustrious second day.

But second day... see, the second day was just the perfect length. The careful balance. The golden mean in architecture. Second day said I've got a lot going on but I wanted to talk to you. It oozed easy, smiling confidence; casual social grace. It said let's get together this weekend, but only if you don't already have other plans. Second day wasn't pushy and begging, and it wasn't nonchalant and arrogant either. It meant I really want to see you and you're too important to string along, but I don't want to crowd your space. The second day was perfect. The second day was obligatory. The second day said it all.

So it was the second day, not the first or the third, that Loki was pulling a crumpled napkin ink-blotch stained in someone else's pilfered sharpie marker from underneath the coffin magnet pressed dead center on the icebox. She reread the name to herself, scarcely believing what it said. A glance afforded in the general direction of the living room, where an eight year old boy with equally striking eyes had a black cat in a death grip as he watched Shrek Two for the seventh time. She offered the poor bedraggled feline a consolatory smile as she reached for the portable phone, matching number to number to connect herself into the line.

Pacing her kitchen now, which is pretty much all she ever did in there anyway, black plastic wireless receiver pinned between a tilted head and an emaciated shoulder so pale it was livid in its whiteness, listening to the distant ringing. One. Two. Three. Not home. Checking the clock, girl chose not to consider the fact that even though she was calling on that, the most optimal of days, the legendary second day, she'd still chosen to make that call at an hour of the day she was quite positive he wouldn't answer.

Answering machine. Strange eyes closed, lashes tangling themselves in shades of oblivion as she listened to a voice so familiar it stung. Chest seized as heart muscle trip hammered, stumbling over itself awkwardly inside its scrawny cage. Swallowing roughly, girl took a deep breath and waited for the proverbial beep.

"... Hey. It's me. It occurs to me that you're probably at school or whatever, but I wanted to tell you that it was...really good to see you the other night. Hope you're doing well. Good luck fighting off all the teenagers. We should.. do it again sometime. Anyway -- here's my number..." Rattling off a series of digits that hadn't changed in years, no matter how many times she moved, "...call me if you want." Click.

Well. That was that. She'd done her part, terminating the connection as she set the phone back on its receiver with a sigh of relief. Now it was up to him, his call to make, his play on the board. Alleviating herself of first move responsibility, Loki walked into the living room to sit beside her son on the floor, to point and laugh at Puss N' Boots, to make faces at Donkey, and pretend for all the world she wasn't holding her breath.

[khaoticbliss]

Destiny's towing your car...