Tomorrow Will Come

1.

   Two windows, a combination of the kitchen and living room, laundry space, a miniature bathroom, and a poor excuse of a bedroom is what I call home. It's not much to live by but at least the price was reasonable. One point for me!

   In these conditions, I have been able to change from a self-centered brute to your friendly neighborhood Isaac Williams.Now it didn't take three magical minutes to finally get used to all the "pros" of living in a condominium. Oh goodness no; It took me about two months to finally come to warm-heartedly accept the knocking at my door at five in the morning with a small voice asking if they can borrow some sugar, the upstairs neighbors walking with cinder blocks for shoes, and the fact that I have to jog down two flights of stairs just to check my mailbox.

   But nevertheless, I have passed the trials! How do I know this? The elderly lady downstairs on the second floor smiled at me for the first time in two months. So on my third month here we have "friendly encounters", I would say "hang out" but because of the strange looks she gives me, my vocabulary has changed. Great lady though, also a great person to vent my problems to. At the end of our friendly encounters, we both watch the news with homemade cookies and piano music playing faintly in the background. So all in all, I really did begin to see the pros of living in such a small space.

   The biggest pro that I found while living in a condo would be the moment I heard a high pitched trill ring through my kitchen window at three in the morning. It didn't sound so pleasing the first three or four times but when the tune stopped by the fifth time I realized that I have come too accustomed to yet another annoying situation. I remember when I first began to sit on the kitchen counter, counting down the minutes it took to finally reach 3:25 a.m., to be graced upon by the unknown whistle.

   That was two weeks ago, so here on my third week of listening intently to the mysterious voice, I have caught onto a pattern. Sunday through Thursday: whistling. Wednesday: no whistling. Thursday and Friday: whistling. Saturday: no whistling. It's amusing to know that I have this information marked down on my "Caribbean Paradise" calendar attached to my refrigerator. With the blazing red sun barely kissing the cool blue of the Caribbean Sea marked as March on the lively pages of the schedule, I start off my day with a cold cup of coffee and a sticky glazed doughnut. 

   "Isaac? Open up!" violent knocking on my door disturbed my cool optimism of the cruel morning to something between irritation and exhaustion. Staying positive is a hard thing to do, yes, even the great Isaac Williams has flaws, how wonderful. Chugging the cold Joe down with a mouthful of the pastry I gracefully slid off the bar stool to answer the door. Nobody needs to know about the full details on how I actually tripped on my way to the door, nobody is perfect. "Ew, you look like a chipmunk" 

   "I can always count on you to ruin a perfect morning." This oh-so-wonderful guest is Alex Sharpie; That's right, Alex is the queen of a marker company.

   "Your welcome. Now let me in."

   "Mhm," I manage to grumble out, restraining myself from snapping her tiny pale neck as she whisked past me. "Coffee?"

"Sure, It better not be cold though." With that obvious note in mind, I turn on my bare heels against the chilled tile of the kitchen floor towards the coffeepot resting on the cheap countertop beside my empty mug. Picking it up, sloshing the cold liquid inside, old memories came to mind as I search for a spare cup.

   It was a warm day that afternoon. Sloppy Joe Wednesday to be exact, my favorite day of the week. Nobody served better Sloppy Joe's than Harmon Elementary; Pride of the Hawks. Being the excited nine-year-old I was, I missed the fuming Alex passing in front of me.  (I don't think she liked Sloppy Joe Wednesday). Pride of the Hawks was probably a high expectation the school board was hoping to achieve. I would say a more accurate representation would be clumsy hatchlings. Alex, Sloppy Joe's, and I fell to the ground in a wet mess of ground meat and orange wedges. Boy was she furious! Just about ripped my worried head off my scrawny shoulders. I couldn't stand the glares she gave me across the cafeteria and being the brave child I was, I begged my mom to confront the problem for me with tears running down my cheeks.

   The problem was solved alright, for the adults at least. Me, I was struggling to breathe as Alex gave me a bone crushing hug (she almost succeeded) that was forced upon by the parents. You know that awkward situation you are supposed to do because your parents think it'll solve the problem or because they think it's polite? Alex and I were in that situation exactly. As the parents awed and cooed as we were "making up" Sharpie hissed into my ear causing cold tremors to run through my frail and very breakable body,

   "You better watch your back, Isaac."

   Beautiful memories. Only the good ones give you nightmares. I think I should add in another twenty seconds to the now lukewarm coffee if I value my life.

   "One Santa mug of hot coffee, Miss!", I sing, placing the mug before Alex who looked really bored. Nodding in acknowledgment Alex takes a gently controlled sip of the brew. "Tip?" I held up an open palm.

   "I'm going to bite your fingers off if you don't get your hand out of my face." Now being me, I would keep pestering her. But because I enjoy having my digits intact I withdrew my arm. 

   Awkward silence has found its way between us in the span of five seconds. I hate awkward silences.

   "So care to explain why you're here?" That sounded so much better in my head!

   "Nope." A response worthy of Alex.

I looked up at the clock balanced dangerously on the edge of the bookshelf beside the small flat-screen t.v., 6:47 a.m. This caused me to jolt up and sprint around the counter and corner into my small bedroom. When I say small, I actually mean small. I couldn't fit a t.v. and if I could then I would have to get rid of all the extra clothes that didn't fit into my closet to place the t.v. on my drawer. I may be a slop, but I can't get rid of my clothes; You never know when you might need them!

   Apparently, my rushed behavior startled Alex because after a while she stood leaning against the door frame grumpy as I hastily attempted to pull jeans over my sleeping shorts.

   "I've never heard of this new fashion" she commented sarcastically. For all I cared, I am going to be late if I stay any longer arguing with her that shorts with jeans could be the new fashion statement of the year. 

   "I need to go, feed the goldfish, turn off the lights, lock the door, and don't touch my bathroom cabinet." I order Alex as I pull on my gray coat in too much of a haste to zip it up all the way. Too much in a rush to wonder why Alex came to my small home in the first place. Shouldn't be too concerned right? I got things to do. With jingling keys in my left hand and the right pulling the door shut, the last words I hear come out of Alex Sharpie cause a sharp sting of guilt to course through my body.

   "Your goldfish isn't moving, Isaac!"