The Aftermath Of You

Chapter One

Toni's cell phone jumped to life, playing an extroverted jungle tune, which deeply disagreed with its surroundings.  

Her stomach lurched. Was it him?  

Grasping her phone in a sweaty palm, Toni stared down at the number on the screen for a small eternity before answering in despair.

"It's your mother."

"I know." Toni sighed.

"How?" Lulu Handcock demanded.

"Your voice is very ... distinctive."

"I just got you The Herald and The Lakes Weekly Bulletin. I'll be around shortly to drop them off."

"I'm not home." I don't need a bloody job; I need you to leave me alone!

"Not at home?" Lulu barked with laughter. "Over my dead body, you're not at home! Lying on the couch, pretending to be scared of leaving the house, like all those people you see on the News."

"I've told you before Mother, I'm not an Agoraphobic."

Lulu hissed in frustration. "I never said you were scared of aggressive people, I said you were scared of going outside!"

"It isn't 'Aggro' phobic-"

"Where are you?"

"Um ... just out."

"Impossible. You're never out, you're always lurking around in that gloomy house of yours."

"It's not gloomy," Toni asserted feebly. "It's light, and tranquil."

She looked around her house for reassurance, at the blindingly white walls.  So white that all she needed were a few stretchers, a couple of sweaty-palmed relatives and a coffee machine to have patients queuing at the door in no time. She had meant to paint over them, but Toni had found that when one lost the will to live, wielding paint brushes no longer held any kind of fascination.

"Tranquil? I really don't see anything tranquil about being attacked by a pile of festering Turkish rugs."

Toni stared bleakly at the floor. "They're not all Turkish." Mats of every color and origin submerged her floorboards, keeping the polished wood beneath them a distant and foggy memory. They kept the chill from penetrating her small and delicate feet. And secretly (like the walls) Toni had become quite fond of them.

Lulu's voice hit a menacing note. "Where are you?"

"Not at home," Toni repeated in desperation. "I'm at a – at a job interview."

"A job interview?" Lulu's voice shot up a few more notches, "Well, that's great news. We should meet in town to buy you a new outfit so that you look professional."

"Oh no." Toni choked. "Impossible. Job interview is now."

Silence.

"Mother, are you ok?"

"Now?" Her mother's voice had become hoarse. "But what are you wearing?"

Toni looked down at her ensemble: a white summer dress worn to the point of indecency, and her only pair of black vinyl shoes which had started talking years before. "My tailored suit."

"You don't own a tailored suit!"

True. A decade had passed since Toni had spent any money on clothes.

"I do now. I'd better get going, here's the boss now ... oh, hello Mr -!" Sifting around on the floor she found a battered magazine that her grandmother had left for her. "Mr. Pitt. Yes, I'm Toni Handcock!"

"Well, I'll just drop these papers by just in case."

"Some other time," Toni told her firmly and disconnected the call.

Toni peered out of her window.  Looking out across the sleepy township she could see wood smoke unfurl lazily from chimney tops into the sky, and rise towards the statuesque mountains covered in white powdery snow. Below the snow line stood a ragged bunch of trees, without a leaf in sight; the branches pointed their fingers up towards the sky. They looked lonely and bare. Just like me. Toni thought sadly. Do they feel this awful? Do they wish they had something to smile about?

"Of course they don't," she said out loud. "Now can I finish my masterpiece?"

She adjusted her laptop and stared at the cursor key blinking maddeningly in front of her.

It had become a mandatory part of her day over the last nine months as Toni struggled to write something – heck, anything – but naught had surfaced from the dark depths below, except for the very obvious "Once Upon a Time ..." which she'd typed out thirteen times and deleted twelve. Toni had huffed, puffed and dragged lumps of hair from her scalp, and secretly worried that if the frustration continued she'd have to adopt a new hairdo, forced to comb her hair across her head like an elderly man to cover the gleaming hairless scalp. It didn't seem to matter how frustrated she got, no other words had sprung forward.

All because of him.  Pain shot through her heart.  

Sighing, Toni sank deeper into her couch. It was the only thing in the living room that didn't scream 'intensive care' - large and overstuffed in a feminine rose color. And matching armchairs. If her nose got too close to the fabric it had a rather heady effect due to an unfortunate mishap with a bottle of champagne. She liked to think that the couch shone like a beacon of hope, although she was well aware that the 'shining' was possibly just the alcohol fumes that rose from it. The couch offered a spongy tranquility that she couldn't find anywhere else; it eased the aches and pains from her heart and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Her eyelids were just beginning to droop when the front door was nearly ripped from its hinges. Toni shot up into a sitting position, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She didn't know who to expect. 

Could it be ... Was it ..?

Note from the Author:  I've renamed this book for the month at least... To see if a less anatomical title gets more reads.