Stop The Rain
There’s frantic knocking I go to the door pulling on jeans grabbing my HK .45, shoving it the small holster belt the small of my back.
I shout” coming!” If they have a warrant they’re going to come in. I am holding but not much and they’ll never find it. I open the door expecting anything but this. I see Beth my good friend crying she has blood on her as the sultry night air hits me I pull her inside bolt the door behind her
“Who did this” Was it Andrew?! I demand. “I’ll I stop as Beth ‘s eyes plead.
She looks at me wordlessly sobbing, shaking, grabbing my arm clinging to me shaking a bit pale. “Andrews dead “ she chokes out sobbing.
“I can make a few calls. fuck it I ‘l take them out.” I haven’t slept in 3 days I am running on coke a dizzying array of pills, and raw nerve, and my best at times only friend. Beth looks NFL cheerleader she was in her early 20’s. Blonde Tan busty (naturally) green eyes full of soul that I would kill for literally. She has an easy sense of style. She’s not thrilled that; I deal coke but accept me as I am. We’re friends, not lovers. Lovers come and go lovers but we go on through it all. Someone, I can tell I love, without it being used against me, or feel make me like an idiot. Andrew was her Boyfriend. They lived together he hated me. To him, I was all nightmares and menace
“He killed himself!” She says clutching my arm seemingly climbing up my arm I feel her hugging my her teary check on mine she sobs, “I had to clean up the blood and bits of brain, bone, and skin. “ She is sobbing hysterically shaking. Heaving against me.
Gasping for breath.
Let's get you cleaned “ I say guiding her to the loo. She’s had a few too many. When we were clubbing. I have cleaned her up and put her to bed I; before this isn’t anything but affection she needs the blood from her. I adjust water the water putting my .45 on the basin stepping out of jeans. I lather her hair as she cries. Rinse her hair she washes I direct. , The shower massage then turn off the taps wrapping her in a towel carrying her to my bed I tuck her in and start to leave the room
“Hey, asshole, come back here I am too tired scared, angry too sleep. Let's just talk. ” Beth says in a southern drawl.
I am getting you a screwdriver and dressed I will be right back. I say over my shoulder. I take the vodka from the freezer pour a couple of shots take a long drink from the bottle. Light a Gitane’s putting on the exhaust fan. This should keep me until breakfast. I grab a few Valium from fridge dry mouth a couple before I start to tweak. I’ll step her down so she can sleep put her screwdriver on saucer pills beside it. I stop for the .45 and go to the bedroom. I set her drink on the nightstand
“It’s cold, could I borrow a T to sleep in. Won’t I OD? Beth said. Watching as I place my .45 under my pillow. “You can sleep like you always do my sister, several friends told me you sleep and the new girl at work with told me you sleep nude. I grab a clean T from the closet and toss it to her click off the light and slide next to her,
Beth starts talking and lies against me, with head on my chest. I listen to her she needs to talk even on 2 Valium she transmits at a rapid pace
I listen, that ‘s what she needs from me. The rhythm starts to slow down and is replaced by rhythmic breathing. I drift for the first time in days. I wake up realizing that I have slept 10 hours at least my hand is on Beth’s breast, not unpleasant, just not what she wants needs. I extract myself from bed go to the kitchen start coffee pull on jeans go to the patio to smoke, do a bump go back in pour coffee and look up to see Beth walking n my T in. “My hair is scary. I know I went to bed with it wet, you know you had your hand was on my tit all night,” she giggles. Reaching for a cup of coffee in my hand hitting me with that great big smile.
“I m sorry” I start.
“No, no it made me feel safe, you stopped the rain,” she says with a smile. sips some coffee, and says “I gotta get dressed go home and get dressed, and disappears into the bedroom comes out in one of my T’s
“You could have stolen a clean one. “I said laughing.
“I know I wanted your smell, right now you make it quit raining, you’ll get it back,” Beth says sarcastically.
“Roxy Thursday?”I ask of her back wouldn’t miss it.” Beth answers
“Happy hour, dancing
Ongoing sporadic journal of the overeducated, and underemployed. The title derived from Coupland’s description of cubicle land; the corporate ghetto. Random photos and thoughts. Left the ghetto, never happier. This still a work in progress
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