s e v e n t e e n
Dogs are always on their toes.
No, really. It’s not a phrase or something. They really are. They only balance their weight on their whole foot when they sit down on their haunches. Their paws are only the bit with the toes. And then at the end they have these little heels, but they never touch the ground till they sit. It sounds exhausting, but it’s not really. Only for us it is because we’re not supposed to walk around on tiptoes all day. That’s why high heels fuck you up. They’re unnatural and painful.
Silliman has tiny golden heels. They’re actually very cute.
He’s sitting next to me right now, his nose buried in my stomach. He’d been scratching at the door so I’d let him in. He licked me all over first, on my face and all, then when I sat back down on the floor he sort of lay all over me and started grunting and got comfortable. He’s very heavy and I’m not very comfortable, but that’s alright. And I can’t move him anyway.
The typewriter shut up after a while, you know. It sort of had this huge black yawning mouth out of which all those words were coming but then it closed up. Now it’s just a typewriter, sitting there on the table. Not saying a word. People think only human beings can say stuff. That’s not true, you know. Anything can say things to you. Nobody hears it, but things are always talking. All things. You either don’t understand what they’re saying or you’re just not listening. People who listen too hard – now those are the people who go mad. Our brain can only handle so much, you know? Try walking around the world with everything whispering at you. I bet you’d go mad in a week, tops. Maybe less.
They scream to drown out the noise. And it doesn’t always work.
There’s no noise now, though. For me, at least. It’s all quiet. Very quiet. Maybe it’s because of my meds. I took a double dose. I mean, I just sort of shook the bottle and shoved two in my mouth but like a thousand of the goddamn pills fell out and I couldn’t even pick them up because my hands were shaking like crazy. They’re all lying there still, on the floor like goddamn Tic-Tacs. They were crawling around for a while, but then they stopped, probably when the ones inside me kicked in.
There’s a noise. I’m not sure if it actually happens, so I don’t respond. Silliman does, though. He sort of looks up and points his ears up and his tail starts wagging. Then there’s another knock.
“Evianna? Evianna, are you in there?”
She doesn’t try to open the door. She’s just knocking.
Silliman barks a little.
“Evianna, there’s someone here for you.”
What the fuck? I don’t get goddamn visitors. They must be confused.
“Tell them to go away.”
“It’s a boy. He says his name is Dexter. He’s got another young man with him too.”
Boy. She just fucking called Dexter a boy. How mad is that?
I stand up. It hurts a little. When I walk past the typewriter my heart sort of lurches a little, like when you walk out of a dark room and you think something’s gonna grab you from behind or appear in front of you or something. But nothing happens.
I open the door. Aunt Evelyn’s standing there, blinking at me. She doesn’t look very scared, but just a little.
“They’re – they’re at the door,” she says, very quietly. Silliman comes out and goes with me to the door. I wonder what the time is. It could be six pm or it could be lunchtime. I have no idea, really.
