Didn't really feel like writing today, but I forced myself to do it. It was one of those days, so I didn't get any time to write until late in the evening. By that time, I just wanted to relax for a while and then go to bed. Instead, I slaved over a hot keyboard until I came up with these beautiful words for you. I hope you appreciate all I do for you.
Anyway, enough of that nonsense. Here's the words. 1,147 of them. Pretty good for not wanting to write at all, I suppose.
Photo provided by: s58y Creative Commons I added the title and border.
II
Despite the weirdness, life went on. In the morning, Oscar had to drag himself out of bed and head off to work, even though he was dog tired after staying up so late the night before due to the fireflies. He turned the water much colder in the shower than he usually did, and he doubled the size of his morning cup of coffee, and managed to sleepwalk through the day. A few years ago, he would have just snorted a line, and been right back on his game, but Simi had made him promise to leave that behind, and so far, he managed to stay true to that promise. Caffeine was now his drug of choice, and he supposed that his heart thanked him for it. After all, it was a much lower strength stimulant.
Oscar was jealous of Simi the whole day through. He struggled to work his magic, selling stock, making trades, and earning commissions, while Simi was able to stay home with the baby. Sure, she’d gone through a whole lot of hell to give birth to Trevon, but she got a nice extended vacation as a reward for it. He was back at work less than a week later, and wasn’t even allowed any chemical help to get through it anymore. Without cocaine, he barely felt like a stock broker anymore.
At least he still had a wife of above average beauty to come home to. Hell, above average didn’t even come close to covering it. She looked like a Bollywood movie star, and as she greeted him in the hallway when he got home that night, he thanked his lucky stars she chose him over all the other options she’d had placed before her.
“Anything weird happen while I was out?” he asked.
“Trevon rolled over, which is huge! But I’m getting the feeling that’s not what you were asking about.”
Oscar looked down at Trevon, who was hanging off Simi’s torso in a sling, and took his face in his hands, “You rolled over!” he squealed at Trevon, “ I can’t believe it! You’re getting so big!” He looked back up at Simi. “Is that normal or early or what? When do babies usually start rolling over?”
Simi had read all the What To Expect books--When You’re Expecting, The First Year, The Second Year--so she was like an encyclopedia of knowledge regarding babies and their development.
“Yeah, it’s normal,” she said, “pretty much right on time.”
“Cool,” Oscar said, “So, nothing weird then? I guess that’s good.”
“Yeah,” she said, “I guess.”
Then they ate dinner, and watched Breaking Bad for a while.
They didn’t know what to think or say about the fireflies and the rainbows. They didn’t know what to do when they were occurring, and they had even fewer ideas about what to do in their aftermath. So, they elected to think, say, and do nothing about them. They did their best to forget that they had ever seen anything like that at all. For a few days afterward, Oscar asked Simi the same question at the door when he came home, and the answer was always negative, so soon he no longer asked. It was probably a silly thing to ask anyway, because if something weird had happened, Oscar would surely have known about it before he got home. It’s not like she had to send word to him by telegram or something.
The occurrences were far enough apart, that they always lulled them back into a sense of complacency before dashing it to pieces on the rocks. So, it was a full three weeks later when Simi called Oscar on his cell phone at midday, hissing, “It’s happening again, Oscar.”
He was on the other line with a client, and he had to jump back over, and make excuses and promise to call back, a very big no no in stock broker-land. He’d probably lose that client for good, but he didn’t give it a second thought. His wife was home alone with another...event. He didn’t know what to call it.
“What’s happening, Simi?” He asked, his voice much more panicked than he expected it would be if he were home with her.
“It’s different again,” she replied, “there’s big, colored shapes floating around the room, and they’re solid this time. That’s how I first noticed them, one of them bumped into me.”
“Do they seem dangerous this time?” Oscar asked.
“I don’t know. They’re freaking me out a lot more. I mean, I can touch them. They can touch me. But they’re just floating randomly. They don’t seem to notice me, or, I mean, they don’t seem like they even could notice me.”
“What about, like, are they getting bigger? What about smothering? Could they get too big and smother you?”
“They’re not changing at all. Just floating around.”
“What about, Trevon. Where’s Trevon?” So panicky, he thought, not much of a strong shoulder to lean on. But he was doing his best to deal with this.
“He’s right here. I put him down for a nap about twenty minutes ago. He’s sleeping in the bassinet,” she said.
“So, you’re in the bedroom? Is there anything out in the hall?”
“I don’t know. Let me see.” After a short pause, she said, “no, it looks like all the shapes are in the bedroom. Is that weird?”
“Simi, what about this isn’t weird?”
“Right.”
Oscar could hear through the phone the sound of a siren approaching.
“Did you call the police?” he asked.
“No,” she responded, “I was going to ask you the same thing, which of course would have been really dumb because when could you have done that?” Another pause, and then, “It’s a firetruck heading down the street. I don’t know where it’s going, maybe one of our neighbors had a heart attack or something. Do you think I should call the poli--”
Suddenly, Oscar could hear Trevon’s wailing cry come bursting it way over the telephone line.
“OH!” Simi gasped.
“What?” Oscar demanded, his heart in his throat.
“They’re gone. The shapes are gone. I wonder if the noise scared them away or something. It woke Trevon up too.”
“Yeah,” Oscar said, “I can hear him.”
“Hey there,” he heard her saying in a soft, high-pitched voice, “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
Oscar sighed deeply. He felt as though he’d been holding his breath the entire time he’d been on the phone with Simi. “So, you’re okay? They’re gone?”
“Yeah,” she said, struggling to be heard over Trevon’s screams.
“Okay,” he said, “then I better get back to work. I think the boss is looking at me. Better get back to making money.”
“That’s fine. I can’t really hear you anyway,” Simi said, nearly drowned out completely by the angry baby who’d had his nap cut way too short.END OF DAY FIVE
3 comments:
More and more interesting, though his past drug use turns me off on liking/relating to him. Not that I expect you to change anything, just giving feedback. (And I expect you to take it as you will, my feelings won't be hurt.)
Interesting. Does it matter what the drug is? Would it be less of a turnoff if it were a more recreational drug like marijuana? Or is any drug a turnoff? What about alcohol? If he were a heavy drinker, and then had to cut back to much less booze because of the kid, does that make him more likable?
It won't hurt my feelings either. I only added it because I felt it would make him seem like a more realistic stock broker. It's not an integral part of his character.
That's an interesting perspective (though not one I share). I assumed you added the drug reference to distance the main character from yourself, not because of the stockbroker thing. But it makes sense in an industry where drug use has to be as much the norm as with musicians and artists.
I wish I had taken drugs in my youth. Sure wish I had some now.
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