Traces of Scars
Author's Note: Sorry for the llllooonnnnnnnggggggggggg wait, everybody (even though I sincerely doubt that anyone is out there reading this…) this chapter was written in a 'sixpence none the richer' state, so please excuse my musings….
Oh! Thank you to Renee (I wish you had signed in, so that I could review you back!), Steelsings (let us commit a Polyam….hee hee!), Nauti Dolphin (where did you go?), MandELLA (so much for reviewing this story, eh??) and YourWinter06 (why have you stopped reading this??? Please explain) I value your reviews (whether new or old) very much… finally, the language in this and the next chapter will be somewhat stronger than the previous chapters, because the subject material is a bit coarser…
Disclaimer: yeah, yeah, I don't own the characters or the song 'Lines of My Earth' by Sixpence None The Richer…
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Chapter Seven: The Well Has Gone Dry
Woof. After that ordeal I needed some ice water. I pulled the Brita water filter out of the quickly emptying fridge. Damn, I would have to go to the A&P…again. I'd go the next day, who cares if it's open late, I'm too tired to go out again. Absolutely wiped. When my head hit the pillow I was already asleep.
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The next morning came with a vengeance. My wrist was throbbing like a woodpecker digging into the flesh of the tree's bark. But what is a little pain in the long run? I had relief, escape, and if pain was the price to pay, so be it.
The prospect of going out grocery shopping was about as appealing as a sardine milkshake, but I knew that if I didn't go to the A&P, my fridge would only get emptier. Damn eating. Damn it to hell. I wish I didn't need to eat at all, it would be so much easier.
I pulled the pillow over my head, begging it for a few more morsels of sheep. It ignored my pleas and instead sent a demon to knock on my door. It was my landlord. I opened the door and groggily peeked out.
"Yes, Norman, what is it?" I asked him blearily
"Where's Violet?" God, what do I say???
"My mum's at work. She left early."
"When will she be back?" damn you, Norman.
"Well, she's going to visit her great aunt after work." Great, my lies are going to catch up with me someday, but I might as well put it off for as long as I possibly can.
"Where does this great aunt live?" Norman started to poke his bald head through the door frame, snooping around with his eyes.
"Norman, what do you want, I can tell my mum later."
"Missy, your mum hasn't paid any of her bills since May." May. Prom night, to be exact.
"And you guys have till the end of the month to pay." Today was the 23rd. I had a week to get the money. Damn you too, mum.
"I don't want to evict you. Your mum is always great to me…yeah, she cut my hair for free." Norman shifted his hips suggestively, making me wonder if perhaps my mum had done more for Norman than cut his hair. My mother can be such a dirty whore.
The tips of Norman's generously proportioned ears glowed pink as he left, reminding me that I had till the 30th to get the money in. But maybe mum would be back by then. 'Right, Mandella, and precious William is going to give up Anne Hathaway for you.' I had to laugh at my own ludicrous thoughts and ideas.
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Twenty-five dollars to use. It wouldn't be enough to appease the grotesque landlord, but it would be enough to buy groceries. It would stave off starvation, but not imminent eviction. Damn.
I pulled my vintage Victorian lace shirt on and a pair of faded jeans. Good enough for the A&P crowd.
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I took a light jog on the way to the massive grocery store. It was a very light jog, as I don't like to run while wearing lace, but still, I wanted to get there quicker. The words of the last song I heard on my radio kept repeating in my head.
'The lines of my earth
So brittle and fertile and ready to die
I need a drink
But the well has gone dry.'
'Shut up, Mandella. Those are the words of people who don't know thirst, and neither do you, so shut up.'
The A&P was bustling with the hubbub of mothers pushing carts with screaming children in the front trough, and teenage boys standing at the checkout, trying to get the cashier to believe that they were old enough to buy ciggies. Ignorant fools. I decided to stock up on food: Kraft Dinner, Alphagetties, Campbell's Tomato Soup, crackers and yogurt. Oh, and chocolate, I needed a simple pleasure. I could drink water, I wasn't destitute yet. Yet.
I looked up from People magazine at the checkout to see how many people were behind me.
"Hello, Mandella." Startled, I jumped.
"Cameron, you scared the hell out of my. I swear that you must follow me here! We must stop meeting like this!" I hoped that my joking would shove off all suspicions of anything being wrong. I was interrupted by the robotic voice of the cashier.
"27 dollars and 53 cents, please." Damn those two dollars and 53 cents.
"Cameron, I really hate to ask this, but could you spot me three bucks?" I felt so wretchedly embarrassed. He pulled a fiver out of his black jeans pocket and told me I could pay him back later.
"Thanks, Cameron, you're a life saver."
"I know. No problem. Hey, are you alright, you know, with Michael leaving for Germany on Thursday and everything?" Cameron could tell that something was up, luckily he was wrong about what my problem was.
"Oh, we broke it off. It just wasn't working out."
"Mandella, I'm sorry, I didn't know." God, if Cameron wasn't so obsessed with prissy Bianca, I probably could have fallen in love with his sweetness. But no, that was never going to happen. I jammed the groceries into my knapsack and trudged home.
After I slammed the front door closed, locked it and chucked my groceries on the counter, I went over to the sink to wash my hands. No water.
'I need a drink
But the well has gone dry…'
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A.N. well, so the story continues…only about two or three more chapters to go! Eek, how sad! But I won't ever know how you feel about this story unless you leave a REVIEW! So go on, review…I know you want to *grins evilly*