Remembering Sunday

One

A heavy weight makes my chest buckle and my eyes fly open from an oxymoronically too long and not long enough slumber. The nightmares were gone, thank God, but so was any feeling of rest I may have had. I slept all day but was still thoroughly exhausted.

     But I didn't mind, just this once. My beloved dog, Jellybean, had elected herself as my new alarm clock, waking me with slobbery, dog food scented kisses and eager, loud barks.

"Ugh, Jesus, dog, I'm up. I'm up." I rub at my heavy eyes and squint at my too bright phone screen to check the time.

2:13 a.m... Awesome.

"Jellybean, what the fuck could you possibly need this early in the morning?" I asked my brown and white-spotted pit bull, as though she'd answer me. She barks loudly in reply and jumps off the bed, her feet making a soft, fast pitter-patter as they sprinted across the cold, messy hardwood floors.

I kick aside the nearly empty vodka bottles that littered the floor beside my bed and was just getting up to follow Jellybean when she returned, her long purple leash dangling from her mouth. I roll my eyes and glare at her, asking, "Really? You want to go in a walk now?" The leash falls to the floor as she barks excitedly, her whole body wriggling with glee and her light brown eyes full of a light I hadn't seen in myself since... oh, who even knows anymore?

I sigh dramatically and say, "Fine, only cos you're cute." I rub at my throbbing temples as I drag myself out of bed and slide on my slippers. My mouth is desert dry and every inch of my body aches, but it's nothing I'm not accustomed to now. As soon as I'm on my feet, Jellybean bolts to the door and I'm out in the world for the first time in at least a week.

The street lights are harsh with their off-white brightness, and I have to brace myself when I pass beneath their glow. I can hear little outside of the chirping of crickets and Jellybean panting as she walks, straining against the leash, eager to run. I try not to focus on the sound of my own footsteps, but on any that could be around me.

I've always been this way. Guarded. Overly cautious. Anticipating attack. Why?

Don't ask.

     I stop in my tracks when I hear some faint, fast footsteps coming towards me. My heart begins to race, and the painful throbbing in my head intensifies. Jellybean's barking tears through the silence of the night and she pulls hard on her leash, making me stumble forward as she chases down the source of the sound.

     When I hear more barking, I recognize it as belonging to another dog. Who the fuck else is dumb enough to be walking their dog out at 2 in the morning? I find out when I collide with her and we both are sent flying to the sidewalk beneath us.

     "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I - "

     My words catch in my throat when I see her. I brace my eyes for the brightness of the street light that we'd fallen under and look up to see who I'd hit. Her shoulder length curled hair, dyed the same dark red color as the blood now emerging from underneath her skin from catching her fall, is covering her face as she inspects her wounds. Blondish-brown roots peek out from beneath the red.

     "Fuck," I hear her mutter to herself. "Shit, that hurts. Just my fucking luck, huh?" She looks up to me and my eyes widen at the face I'm greeted with.

     She's pale, and the street light makes it seem that her skin is glowing. Had she ever been outside? Fuck, she's paler than I am, and I've lost track of the time that's passed since I've seen the sun. I at least have my Brazilian blood to give me some melanin, but it's clear that she isn't that lucky. I couldn't look her in the eye long enough to decipher their color, but I think they're green. Or blue? Grey? Hazel? Shit, I don't know, something light and bland and almost exclusive to white people. She'd been wearing some kind of makeup, but it was smudged and it showed clear evidence that she had been crying.

     "I'm so sorry," she said quietly, her voice shaking a little as she stands and wipes at her eyes, unknowingly smearing her face with a bit of blood as she does. "I wasn't watching where I was going, plus Sunday started pulling on his leash like you wouldn't believe when he saw your dog."

     She crouches down and lowers her free hand to Jellybean, who sniffs at it quizzically and immediately licks it, her tail wagging with delight. She then extends that same hand to me and says, "Here, let me help you. Again, I'm so sorry about that. Blame the dog."

     I knew better than to take her hand. I stood on my own and backed a couple steps away before shrugging my shoulders and replying, "It's whatever. Sorry for bumping in to you. You okay?" I wasn't genuinely concerned, the question just came out unwittingly. The girl nods, her loose curls bouncing a bit as she did.

     I might not know, like, or even care about this girl, but she was fucking hot. My eyes scanned her body slowly and definitely liked what they saw. So she was bloody and dirty from the fall, had fucked up makeup, super thick, black framed glasses, and a blotchy face from crying. I could ignore all of that for a body like hers.

     She pulled gently on her golden retriever's leash, cooing, "Come on, Sunday, lets stop bothering this boy and get home, okay?" Sunday trots happily away from Jellybean and is at her side immediately. She looks back up at me, saying, "I'm Celestine, by the way. It'd have been nice to meet under better circumstances, but I guess this will do."

     I've turned away from her now, not wanting her to look at me any longer. My reply is short and monotonous. "Christopher."

     "Christopher. I like that name. Is there a number to go with it?"

     Okay, that was actually really smooth. I want to crack a smile, but I don't.

     "Nope."

     "Okay. I'll be on my way, then. Come on, Sunday." She brushes past me, and the smells of coconut and blood linger in the air around me as she walks away. I feel as if I've become one with the cement beneath me as I watch her go, but Jellybean breaks me out of my place, yanking me back in reality and in Celestine's direction. I roll my eyes at Jellybean and say, "Alright, alright, I can take a hint." Then I call to Celestine, saying, "Wait! Not so fast."

     She turns back to me, her brows furrowed in curious confusion. I ask her for a pen and she removes a green floral backpack that I hadn't noticed from her shoulders, unzipping a pocket and handing me a blue pen. Every part of me tells me not to, but I take her hand and scribble my phone number on to the back of it. Her skin is soft, but rough with little scratches and scabs. She winces a little as I write, and I only notice then the ugly yellow and purple bruises underneath the ink.

     Is it pity that makes me want her hand to linger in mine a little longer? Is it lust? Loneliness? Touching another person for the first time in months? What is it?

     Whatever it is, I don't know if I like it.

     I drop Celestine's hand as fast as politely possible, look her in her bloodshot, empty eyes, give her my best Mona Lisa smile, and walk away without another word to her.

     Her eyes are green.