Modern Darling

4

Tabitha was sitting with her toes curled against the frame of her window. She breathed a puff of smoke out of her lungs like fire and listened to the motorcycle rev his engine for what she was sure was an unnecessarily long period of time.

She shut her eyes tight and replayed the ginger boys mumbling in her ears. Tabitha wondered if she might ever see him again. That was the thing about working at a grocery store. Like it or not. You saw everyone again.

Her mind couldn't help but wonder back to the last time someone had rammed into her with a shopping cart. It had been her Father and his two step kids from hell. It wasn't really they're fault they were hell-ish. Niki and Boomer just happened to come out of Lisa's womb, and Lisa was Satan herself.

Tabitha hadn't seen her Father since she sat in a courtroom and watched her parents argue over custody of her. Surprising honestly, because neither of them really wanted her. Tabitha's childhood was laced with neglect. By the age of eight she knew to keep dinner on the stove, and to not bother waiting for them to come home.

She lived close enough to the school that when she was given a cellphone for her ninth birthday they didn't even bother walking her in the mornings. They'd give her extravagant gifts on holidays and sing her praises when they saw her classmates' parents, but Tabitha had always known the truth.

Her parents were artists.

Meaning simply: they were driven mad by their own brains.

Her Mother had opened a gallery the day after Tabitha moved out. It was beautiful and Tabitha was happy for her Mother, but she also recognized that she was jealous of the four walls and the art that hung there. Her Mother had never loved her the way she loved that place.

Her Father on the other hand was an actor. D-list at best and now semi-retired. He spent his days in the Podcast studio he had built with residual cheques off his guest appearance on Grey's Anatomy. Lisa was his thirty-two year old partner who loved shirts that said things like "Don't Bother Me I Haven't Had My Coffee Yet!" and held the barbaric value that a woman's purpose was to take care of a man.

Tabitha's Father loved her fiercely and openly. He loved his life, and often had Niki and Boomer in the commercial segments of his podcast. They seemed like a happy, well adjusted family. So it was easier for Tabitha to just pretend that they were satanic.

She tried not to think about these things often, how alone she was because everytime she did her feelings came out as ugly snotty sobs. Which were only amplified by the mixture of lavender and marajuana in her system. She cried heavily, unable to steady her breathing and taking large gasps of air as if her lungs were filling with water.

"Stop it! Stop it!" She shouted angrily, shoving her fist into the wall. Sometimes pain helped to numb the pain. "Please," she cried out, unsure if she was bargaining with herself or the universe. Tabitha sank slowly down into her bed and kicked off the basketball shorts she was wearing.

"Uh you okay over there?" The wall- Eric she presumed asked. His voice was so low she could barely be certain that's what she had heard.

"Are you- are you talking to me?" Tabitha replied using the back of her hand to wipe away the snot hanging out of her nose.

"Yeah... I guess? There's nothing good on TV and you seem to be crying."

That made Tabitha smile, she liked the idea that her sobs could be more entertaining than Keeping Up With The Kardashians. In fact she found it oddly comforting.

"Do you ever just start crying about a repressed trauma?" She asked the stranger, focusing her eyes on the popcorn ceiling. There was silence for a moment and Tabitha mentally cursed herself for confiding in the neighbour whose sex often disterbed her REM cycle.

"No. Sorry."

"Oh." Tabitha couldn't blame him for the frank reply. In fact she appreciated his honesty. Lilac was honest like that. Sure she'd sit with her and braid her hair and rub circles in her palms when she was sad. But she also never let Tabitha feel sorry for herself for too long.

"But sometimes when I'm sad I like to hit walls too."

Tabitha laughed aloud, then scolded herself for it.

"Yeah sorry about that,"

"Are you really?" He asked.

"No. Not really."

She wasn't at all in fact. It felt like well deserved payback for the constant sex and happiness her neighbours radiated. She'd do it again for the comfort of another person's voice.

"Didn't think so." He said, and Tabitha swore she could hear a smile in there somewhere. She wondered momentarily where his partner was. If she was curled into his side while he talked to the mad women they shared a wall with. Or maybe, just maybe he knew what it felt like to be alone too.

"Goodnight neighbour." The wall concluded. Tabitha imagined his eyelids drooping, and him taking a deep breath of air before relaxing into his silk sheets. She wondered for a moment what colour they would be.

Blue, cream, red.

"Goodnight Eric." She whispered, testing the name on her lips.