HOPES AND NIGHTMARES: An Ongezellig Fanfiction. Chapter 1.1: A Part to Play
it was such a good dream. She Stood there, guitar in hand, as they screamed her name. For once in her life. She was appreciated for the things she did; loved by hundreds, if not thousands of people who idolised every living moment of her existence. The Rush was something that could not be described, any word would be little more than an understatement to the magnitude of how it felt. Her heart thumped faster and faster as the chanting got louder and louder, coming to an explosive conclusion when she finally finished the song. The crowd somehow got even louder, erupting in applause, chants, screams, and whatever else they could do to show their appreciation for her. It was perfect. And then, she woke up. Vera was wrecked. Judging by the cheap wine and whiskey bottles along the side of her Crusty bed, the TV that was still blaring some strange cartoon and the fact that she felt like her throat was on fire, her brain managed to fire off enough to remember what had happened last night.It started off small, only a few shots of watered-down wine, as she usually did to keep her self satiated. But then, a call from her mother interrupted her pouring the last shot she was going to have for the night. Begrudgingly, she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Vera. I was supposed to get the money you agreed to give me last week. Where is it?"
"Look, I don't have money right now. I'll get it for you at the end of this month."
"Isn't this what you said last week? And the week before? And the one before that?
What have I told you about lying? And to your mother, no less?"
"It's not my fault Im not paid enough. You have a pension anyway, so why do you keep calling me about money?"
"I am your mother. I gave birth to you. you realise i am entitled to compensation for bringing you up. did you know how long it took me to give birth to yo-"
Yeah. I know. 3 days. Look, I'm not in the mood right now. Just call me later or something."
"Your father would be disappointed in you. What kind of daughter ignores her mother's needs like this? You should be ashamed of yoursel-"
Vera hung up. She had heard it all before and had learned long ago that guilt tripping wasn't something that worked on her. Nonetheless, her mother still tried it on her. She always called her about something, be it money or something she needed to be done despite her being on the other side of the country. Sometimes, she just called her to remind her what a failure she was. She missed her dad. More than anything. Her eyes wetted at the thought of it. Nothing that a drink wouldn't fix, she thought as she took a bottle from under the bed. About a quarter had already been drunk from the last "special occasion" that she had. Half of it was gone before the thought about her father had crossed her mind again. It was even worse this time. Now she remembered his face. She couldn't get it out of her head. Maybe he really would be disappointed in her. She layed there and stared at the dingy ceiling of her bedroom, pained with memories of her father. She surmised that she needed something a bit stronger, but all that she had was that cheap wine that she had bought from a friend's recommendation. She couldn't be bothered to go out and get herself anything stronger either. It wasn't like she could get anything at this time of night; Unless she wanted to go to a nightclub, which was out of the question due to past experiences of having to deal with drunk morons throw up on her. She thought for a bit, before remembering that she had a small cabinet full of whiskey and other assorted spirits.
Maybe she had gone a bit too far on the drinking; Lifting up one of the bottles from the side of her bed, she noticed it had a horrifically high alcohol percentage. This was probably the reason why she couldn't remember anything past the first bottle that she had. She didn't really regret it though. At least that awful feeling in her head stopped. However, it only seemed to manifest again physically, as now her whole body felt as stiff as a rock. Her joints ached just about every time she made even the slightest movement, and her throat felt like it was on fire.The pain bugged her relentlessly; it felt almost taunting with how bad it was. Nonetheless, she still got up and got ready for the day. She missed out on a few of the usual things she did for her morning routine, such as:
• brushing her teeth;
• Washing her hair;
• Having a drink;
• Drinking coffee;
She Instead, only did 2 things: wash her hair and drink coffee. With that done, she left her dingy apartment to go and grab her car.
Vera's car was a scrap pile on wheels. She had bought it for an astonishingly low price from a car sale a few years back, and looking back on it, she could see why. The years hadn't been kind to either of them. The paint was worn out and dull, rust was visible from a few sides, one of the headlights were somehow dimmer than the other one, the windshield had a small crack from when a pigeon flew straight into it (Vera had nearly gotten into a car crash because of that particular incident, and only made the car look like it wanted to be put out of its misery even more) and the rear view mirror was cracked. It was almost comical how awful it looked. She got in and tried to start the car, which took a few tries before she managed to start it up with less of the expected roar and more of a strangled yelp. It eventually fully started up and let Vera drive to school.
Despite the escapades of last night, the traffic jam on the way and her cars ability to defy death, Vera was surprisingly early. So early, in fact, that not even the janitors had shown up yet. The front doors were still unlocked, which was slightly worrying, but it made it all the more easier for her to get to her classroom and set up for the day. Friday was not exactly Vera's favourite day. It was the end of the week, and because of this, it was the most stress inducing. Most of her classes were full of people who could be classified as a danger to society with how many problems they caused. Throwing chairs, getting into fights and playing that God-awful "Penis game" (supposedly, one of the American exchange students had taught them how to play) which she had the displeasure of having to deal with last week. None of them seemed to outright hate her, though. Maybe the subject, but not her. It was confusing to her as much as it was to the other teachers that she had some of the worst people the school had ever seen, and yet they all treated her somewhat fairly.
By the time people started showing up, Vera had managed to get everything set up for the day and was ready to start off her lessons. Thank god it wasn't too busy. Otherwise, she might have collapsed from exhaustion. The events of last night hung over her throughout the day. She tried to speak as little as possible and to just let everyone do the work without bothering her. Her headache got worse if anyone decided to speak even slightly above a whisper. It bugged her to shout at people, so most of the time, she just let it slide; Up until the last lesson of the day.
The headache had varied in pain over the course of the day, and during her lunch break she fell asleep at her desk before being woken up by the bell rather suddenly an hour later, which disorientated her. This lesson, from what she could remember, was quiet. If anyone did something stupid, that would usually cause some sort of distraction, which she would have to deal with. She made it through at least 35 minutes of the lesson until something happened, and it was barely even noteworthy, either; it was nust maya trying to fall asleep again. The first time, she told her to keep her head up, which made her jump up and expose her face. It was a sight to behold. It was like she hadn't slept in months. It made her feel worse when people began to laugh at her. She scolded them and got back to her computer. She began to think about maya a bit more as she worked. All the time, that girl seems to look consistently awful, like she's been through something unspeakable. She kind of reminded her of when she was at school; constantly afraid of everyone and everything. Well, maybe she wasn't exactly like Vera, but still pretty close.
The last few minutes of the lesson almost seemed to drag on for an eternity. It was always the last 5 minutes that bugged her the most. It bugged the students even more. She would let them out early, but the last time she did that, she got a call from the head teacher who threatened her job. And wait, didn't she set homework?She checked whether or not anyone had done it, to the look of a resounding no. The only people who had done it were coco and tryn, who were both surprisingly consistent with homework, despite them both not exactly being the brightest, as far as Vera had observed. With the headache of having to deal with this homework on top of the hangover, she decided to let it slide until Friday. The bell rang as everyone rushed out, and Vera relaxed for a bit, letting herself slump over and hit her desk like a sack of bricks.Vera had a strange dream as she was knocked out at her desk. The silhouette of a strange, thin man watched her from the distance as she walked down some sort of alleyway. She woke up before she could get a good look at him, which was caused by one of the cleaners poking her with a broom handle. She promptly apologised before gathering her things in a haste and leaving rather embarrassed. Her drive back home was quiet, her car not making any of the usual obnoxious sputtering sounds that it usually would. She wished that the dream from yesterday would have lasted. It felt like some form of torture, having to be ripped away from something like that, and so abruptly. Why couldn't it have been real? Why did it have to be like this? And why was she working this damn teaching job?
The events of the day seemed to fade and disappear as she got dressed into her regular clothes and lounged around her apartment for a few hours. She practised a little bit on her guitar, which made her forget almost completely about the hangover, her mom, and everything else that made her feel worthless. With the guitar, she felt like she could do anything. An hour of practising with it, and Vera was in a much better mood. A much better mood than anybody would see her in when she was in public. Such a good mood, in fact, that she cleaned up the mess from yesterday and cleaned her bed so it didn't look like it came from a hostel. Finishing up for the day, she decided to watch something on her TV while she was in bed. The warmth of her freshly made bed, along with the TV actually playing something good for once ( a flim called "starship troopers"), let her actually get good sleep for once. She drifted off as the film wrapped up, leaving her snoring peacefully as the credits rolled.