Gray Skies

How Dare you!

Chapter 4

How dare you?

Another “close friend” we talk a lot, on the phone mostly. I don’t get to meet her that often, mainly because of her being a girl and even worse, an Asian girl. Restrictions apply.

She’s shorter then me, big hazel eyes, ones you can get lost in. Her hair past her shoulders, straight black hair, not jet black. She’s nice, sincere, sweet, funny, pretty and always knows how to make me laugh. It’s a funny relationship I have with her, we can sit on the phone and do our work, saying one word per minute and it would feel like a full blown intellectual, fulfilling conversation.

I hope my boss doesn’t see my telephone bill, or do I? I’m going to leave anyway soon. But I need to stick to this job till I find another. After all it has been months since you’ve been trying.

I go to my bedroom and call her. The phone rings, 3 bells later she picks up. I notice a hint of hyperness in her voice.

“kaun” (who)

“kyun” (why)

We laugh, as if by saying those two words we have declared that we own and rule the world.

“How are you?” she asks

“I’m ok, don’t know. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I think I’m going to go into hiding for a bit. I can’t deal with things right now, they are really getting to me. ”

She goes onto tell me how everyone in life has problems and I’m not the only one, she assumes she knows what’s wrong with me and gives me her 2 pence worth. True as it maybe, the tone she uses pierces through me and I feel no comfort in what she says. My faith in her ability to pull me from this black hole is lost.

Idiot, She didn’t event bother to understand that what I have on my mind maybe to long to describe in such short time. It’s too complicated!  I can’t just talk to anyone about this, they won’t understand, sure they would give me some sympathy, but I don’t want their pity. They don’t know how I feel, they never will. Only I know the delicate intricacies of the matter and no one can begin to imagine what I’m going through. What does she know? Ppfftt. No one can “help” me. I don’t want “help” anyway. I don’t know what I want.

I tell her I have to leave to do my prayers and will call her later. In my mind, I start to wail and throw my hands in the air, almost to the point where I break down to my knees and beg for a miracle to happen, tears trickling down my cheeks, like those of an elephant leaving a wet trail on its wrinkly million year old leathery skin, same sad eyes, still begging for mercy.

I look through some old pictures of the one I miss, read over the last few texts, a sad song repeating in the background. Desperately trying to work out what it might be that’s caused this, what happened? Why did you leave me so alone?

I miss my father, I think about the time when he cradled my head in his arms, my face grazing against the scar and stitches on his chest from his bypass as I hang on to him, my eyes shut trying to squeeze the last remains of the erratic tear ducts, my cry, that of a child, silent but full of emotion, mouth open and spit escaping, trickling down the middle of his chin. He wipes my tears, smearing it on my forehead, using my hair to dry the residue, repeating “it’s going to be ok”. Something the comfy cushions from IKEA on my bed couldn’t deliver. I decide that I just need to cut away from everyone, keep to myself.

I don’t need anyone, especially those pretentious b4stards who have anything better to do then call me to just make them feel better about themselves or just want some gossip. Why didn’t I realise this before? Am I making this all up, or is this how it really is? Are things clearer to me or am I just being paranoid?

“Users”, that’s what I call them, like remoras, sharks don’t really benefit from them, they just latch on to their bellies and eat the sharks leftovers taking advantage of the undersea buffet and taxi service. Free meal, free transport, what else would they need.

But how would I do that? I have people constantly calling to “talk” about things and till the other day I would jump in excitement when I see the life surging through the screen of my phone, any name flashing on it saying “so and so calling..accept ?” my obvious choice always pressing the small green button mostly on the right hand side of these gadgets.

Instantly, I feel all alone, like a sole survivor from a plane crash on a deserted island, the rest of the bodies drifting away into the sea, lifeless, as they get pulled away by the sea they stare at me with a strange expression of disbelief, as if I’m the one abandoning them.

I’m going to have to start all over again, like the first man, make fire to keep me warm, design the wheel, use sticks and stones to find prey, and this time, I won’t let my bucket fill up.

I turn the tap open so that the murky liquid flows out and I can finally feel a sense of calm and relief, but nothing comes out.

Maybe the liquids turned to goo. I’ll leave the tap running, it’ll start dripping soon. I hope