Dirt

An Uninhabitable State of Decay

    The incident was soon forgotten, or rather repressed. Neither of us said a word to each other; I had my shower, Trevor cracked open a beer, and the day was now able to begin without a hitch. Despite this I still had a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach that refused to leave me.
    I changed into an outfit that was less suited for a homeless person and even bothered to apply some mascara, not that I believed I needed to impress anyone. I took the time to coordinate an outfit and pretended that I was in my own bedroom when in actuality I was idling by my lonesome in Trevor’s  hand-crafted garage.
    When I returned to the trailer Trevor had more or less returned to his natural state of sarcasm and general good humour and the fact that he immediately mocked my appearance made me feel incredibly relieved.
    He was lying on his bed, gazing upon the television screen until finally looking directly at me with some scrutiny once I was 2 feet away from him, “Well look at you, all dolled up. We going to a party tonight or something, so I can meet some more of your douche bag friends?” He cackled, “But seriously what’s with all this?” At ‘this’ he gestured to my dress, which I had up until now believed to be incredibly casual.
    “Hey, I don’t tell you what to wear.” I laughed, “Plus, I don’t wear what I do to please you.” I grinned at him, I was getting rather good at it if I did say so myself. I sat on the bed with a small hop, causing the mattress to groan in protest and tremble in all directions.
    Trevor grinned back at me, grins had now seemed to become our form of non-verbal communication. “I’m just teasing, sugar. If you want to look like a high class hooker that’s totally up to you.” Then he patted the empty side of the bed where I belonged, gesturing for me to lie down alongside him, which I did while trying to control my laughter.
    Without a word we watched day-time soap operas and ate left-over cheeseburgers for breakfast. I felt as though we were growing ever closer to the vision I had had in m dream, which both amused and disturbed me immensely.
    Trevor cleared his throat, startling me slightly after almost an hour of brain-dead television viewing, “Um, I wanted to say that, um…” He fumbled with his diction trying to properly express himself, “What I wanted to say, I guess is that… well, thanks for not freaking out, you know, when I was freaking out- or, what I mean is, for putting up with me. I know I’m fucking insane.” He laughed almost nervously.
    His insecurities would always fascinate me, I could have never imagined I’d know them so well. The way he looked off to the ceiling as he spoke, the sudden blanks drawn from a usually well spoken tongue, the search for particular words, they all caused my heart to flutter as if I were watching tiny rabbits frolicking in a field.
    “Just look at me for a second,” I had always found that the best arguments were made whilst looking your opponent in the eyes, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not putting up with you, I’m not tolerating you, believe it or not I actually enjoy your company. I have a keen ear for sincerity and I know not to take most things to heart, so honestly, don’t feel bad, I’ve taken a lot more crap in my lifetime than a few nasty words someone didn’t really mean.”
    We were now facing each other, and I hoped that I had gotten my point across without sounding too pathetic. I felt strangely maternal at this moment, as inappropriate as that may sound; I simply wanted to make whatever was eating him go away and lie to him, saying that everything would somehow get better.
    Before I knew it he had lunged forward and kissed me, something which I was now becoming rather used to. This was probably the greatest form of therapy for the two of us, a display of our appreciation for one another that words simply could not fulfill. He pulled me towards him forcefully though no force was in fact necessary, a mannerism I quite liked.
    It was at this moment that an electronic tune accompanied by a loud buzz cut our displays of affection short. Trevor immediately pulled away from me, leaving me with a thirst for him not yet quenched and an abundance of love with no one to receive it.
    He reached into his pant pocket for a phone; up until now I had assumed Trevor had no need for any means of communication with the outside world, an unrealistic assumption assuming he did in fact run a large business. He let out a sigh as he observed the number appearing on his cellphone, “Excuse me for a minute will you sugar?”
    Trevor sat up from the indent made permanent in his bed before answering; I curled my torso around his back as he made brief conversation, “What do you want now?… Yes… Yes… No… Do I have to do fucking everything around here?… Yeah, yeah… Okay I’ll be there in a bit, you lazy fuck.” The very prospect of him leaving produced moths in my stomach.
    I felt my heart pounding as he got out of bed and told me, “I have to take care of some stuff, alright? The incompetent pricks I hired can’t seem to get anything done without me.” The anguish I was feeling must have been apparent on my face because he quickly added, “Don’t worry about it though, I’ll be back later today. You’ve just got to promise me one thing-“ At this his voice grew somber with dramatic effect, “Don’t open the door to anyone, alright?”
    “I’m not 10 years old you know.” I replied, feeling as though I were indeed 10 years old.
    Trevor chuckled, “Well you do look pretty fucking close to it. Just don’t answer the door, is that too much to ask? I’ve got enough problems on my hands without having someone kidnap you and hold you for ransom.” He leaned towards me and kissed the top of my head as you would a teddy bear, “There’s beer in the fridge, I think I’ve got some vodka lying around and uh… You’ve got enough burgers to last you a week so, I’d say you’re good.”
    I wanted to cling to him and beg him not to leave me but my desire to keep whatever dignity Trevor still believed I had triumphed. To show my concern I decided a simple touch of the hand to his would be enough, not too indifferent, not too dependent. I smiled at him, “The fact that you trust me with your alcohol means a lot to me.”
    He grinned at me before turning away; I waited until I heard the door shut before burying my face in my hands and trying not to hyperventilate. I knew very well that I was overreacting but the rationality of my mind was having difficulty quieting my bodily reaction.
    It was clear to me that I was a fool, and I wondered to myself if this what what love inevitably entailed, being a fool. I found myself pinching at my arms to draw my attention away from the slight panic I was experiencing, but when the anxiety did not subside I decided a beer was in order, a foolproof tactic.
    I took to my feet and found myself a beer in a fridge filled with unknown lifeforms and unidentifiable smells. Thankfully beer is impervious to all outside contagions when properly sealed and I had always been a huge fan of neat sanitized packaging.
    After a well needed and might I add, large sip of beer the idea suddenly occurred to me, as most great ideas do occur when one drinks beer. What I needed to preoccupy myself was surrounding me; it was the uninhabitable state of decay in which Trevor lived his everyday life.
    Cleaning had always been an escape from stress for me, given that no one was pressuring me to clean, which would undoubtably ruin the fun of it immediately. It was a simple way to clear my mind and methodically scrub, sweep and wipe away every insignificant prickling insecurity that dwelled within my mind.
    The challenge of this task would evidently be finding the means to clean things since I highly doubted Trevor possessed any sort of cleaning products. This was why I began my mission by picking up trash; old newspapers, broken bottles, empty boxes and pill bottles that were scattered around the entire trailer.
    I strategically used the abundance of crumpled plastic bags I found hiding amongst the wreckage to dispose of the junk until everything had been neatly placed in a single pile of tiny bags. During my collection of garbage I had found a number of pieces of cloth which I then proceeded to use to wipe down the disturbingly discoloured table and countertops, using some vodka as a sterilizing agent.
    Then I made my way to the walls and floors on which I used yet another vodka soaked rag to scrub at as best I could. Through all this I did not stop for a moment except to decide what my next task might be, and I silently took note of the shifts in sunlight through the shades of the small rounded windows.
    Every time I heard a car engine nearby I would ever so slightly avert my attention from cleaning to carefully listening for the approaching heavy footsteps of the man I awaited. It had been a number of hours before I heard the distinguished booted steps I had been waiting for, though I had lost count or exactly how many hours it had been.
    I felt my chest pound with excitement as I heard his steps approaching and I turned halfway around to face the door in a manner that would appear as though I had simply been turning towards it by chance and not because I was eagerly awaiting his return.
    The door flew open abruptly leaving me rather stunned. I didn’t know what exactly I had expected from him, but his appearance left me awestricken, covered in blood spatters that I had no hopes in guessing were his or another’s.