Future Days

Home

It's been about 48 hours since I've been back in my concrete hell of a home. No Chris. No Rooster. Im hating myself for feeling so weak. I survived for 23 years on my own, so why can't I now? I haven't slept. I haven't eaten, because that means I'd have to go down to the currently closed cafe kitchen to find myself food and I can't bring myself to walk down those steps into a dark empty shop. Chris has called and texted me a few times but I'm still so mortified I embarrassed myself so badly in front of him that I haven't answered other than a simple "I'm fine."

Through my barred windows I could see the sky twist into a symphony of warm colors, the clouds rolling in thick and heavy with the promise of rain. A creak in the walls sent unwelcome shiver down my spine.

This is an old as shit building Sydney, it's gonna make some noises. Get your shit together you erratic bitch.
Still, the uneasy feeling stayed put in my gut. I can't spend another night alone in this pit of despair. I picked up my phone and sent a text that I probably shouldn't have.

Sydney: I believe I was promised a date?

Eddie: I'll pick you up at 8, darlin'. 🖤

I looked to the clock that read 6:45. Just enough time to make myself look at least a little bit alive. I put a Fleetwood Mac vinyl on and turned it up loud enough to drown the anxiety shrilling voices in my head to a dull roar. I hoped a steaming hot shower would ease my mind and rigid muscles, at the very least wash the stench of rejection and self pity off of me for the evening. I got dressed in a rust brown cable knit sweater, and paired it with some matching boots and dark wash skinny jeans. I took notice to how loose fitting the outfit had become and made a mental note to try and eat more. I stared at my reflection in my bathroom vanity. I wish I could say the girl looking back at me was unrecognizable, but she wasn't. She's the version of me I thought I had killed when I met Mrs. J. She looks exhausted, the bags under her dark green eyes giving that away. Her eyes themselves speak of vulnerability, and trepidation. She had a mauve colored scare over her left cheekbone, a constant unwelcome reminder of her darkest memories.

I placed some concealer under the bags, and added some light blush to bring some color to my dulled pale skin. A little mascara and a deep burgundy liquid lipstick to hide my chewed on lips. A habit of mine I tend to do when I'm nervous. So basically, all the time.

A knock at the door nearly had me jumping out of my own skin. In my head I knew it was just Eddie but I stood frozen in fear watching the door handle begin to wiggle and spin.

"Syd? Sweetheart? It's me." Eddies deep baritone set my worries to the side for the time being, at least long enough for me to open the door.

"Hi, Eddie." I shot him a shy smile my eyes reverting to the floor.

"You look.." he trailed off leaving myself to fill in the blanks for him. Sick? Dead? Terrified?

All completely plausible.

"You look gorgeous, Sydney. That's a lovely color on you." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to my cheek.

He's lying. I should've changed. I haven't even left yet and I'm already embarrassing myself. This is going to be a long night.

———————————————-

Eddie had taken me to a beautiful restaurant, in the heart of downtown. Every table lined with extravagant white linens that nicely complemented the elegant candles burning upon them. We were escorted to a table for two by a floor to ceiling window. The lights and hustle and bustle of the city cohesively preparing for the upcoming holidays played through the window panes like a Hallmark movie. A massive, extravagantly decorated Fir tree illuminated the faces of pedestrians as they navigated through the city sidewalks. Christmas lights were reflecting off of the blankets of snow clinging to the earths surface with subtle glistens of warm lights displayed about the picturesque view. With all that's been going on I hadn't even realized Christmas is in just a few days.