Author's Commentary
Here's the parts 4 through 7. I wrote each of these on binder paper, and writing always comes out shorter than you thought when you transfer it into a text document. So I put four parts together for you guys. Plus, I think I might be gone for a week, so this is kind of to make up for that.
Again, any grammatical/spelling errors are going unacknowledged at the point. I'm looking more for things make the writing better, advance the plot, etc.
[4]
My shift passed with a series of reruns playing in my head. I saw her, again and again, sitting at the bus stop, wrapped in a towel, draped in my clothing. I replayed the short scenes of her cigarette shrinking in her fingers and mouth, a spoon rising to her lips, the way she choreographed her face. By the time I was on the bus home, I had exhausted the projection screen in my mind, and started glancing through an album of mental photographs. I felt awkward on a few instances, smiling quietly to myself on a bus filled with strangers.
When I got through my door, she was standing at an open window, blowing smoke. She hadn’t changed, still in my sagging t-shirt, with her hair dry, brown locks dangling around her shoulders. A cigarette was in her right hand, and a book of matches laid next to her left. She turned her head, exposing to me her profile, as I walked in. Another photograph.
“Hi,” she said, not looking me in the eye. I could tell by counting the burnt filters on my windowsill that she was on her fourth cigarette. I repeated her greeting in response, and proceeded to pull of my shoes and relax. I watched for several minutes as she smoked, until the tobacco had burned away, and she flicked the butt out the window. Maybe she smoked more than four.
Realizing I didn’t have the materials or talent to make a meal for two, I made the obvious and simple choice.
“Fine with pizza?”
“Sure”
I thanked the delivery man when he came. Katelyn had closed the window, and was sitting on the couch. I carried our dinner over and sat down, placing the box between us. We ate in silence.
I mentally noted that a large size was an overestimate, as I placed half a pizza on the counter. I felt strange not talking to her, after reliving her words all day in my head, almost like a conversation.
“Staying tonight?” I tried to come off friendly, hoping I didn’t sound pushy.
“If it’s okay with you.”
“As long as you want,” I reiterated from that morning. We didn’t talk again until we went to bed.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” she echoed.
[5]
I woke up half past nine, happy to catch a few missed hours of sleep. I grabbed some clean clothes, and headed to the bathroom. I noticed, on the way, how Katelyn seemed untroubled when she slept, unlike when worry and discomfort discreetly haunted her features in waking hours. I noticed that I had stopped to stare at her.
As I stood in the warm waters of the shower, rinsing away yesterday’s dirt, I smiled to myself. It seemed somehow invigorating knowing a female had recently used this shower, for the first time in a long while. As I toweled off, I wiped away the fog from my mirror, and picked up a hairbrush from by the sink.
Amongst the bristles of the brush, a few long brown threads were woven in. It was enticing to see the foreign hair in my brush. And though they were a rich, dark auburn, those tangled strands, nestled within my own black ones, shone vibrantly against the tedium and familiarity of my grooming routine. The mirror was clouded again by the time I looked up.
She was still asleep when I walked out of the bathroom. I quietly pulled on my shoes, and picked up a slice of cold pizza from the counter, for a breakfast to go. I returned a minute later, and left a clean shirt and pair of boxers next to the box. I closed my door as quietly as possible on the way out. I liked the small variables, however insignificant, a guest brought to my lonesome home.
When I returned from my shift, I was alone. The clothes I had given her were on the couch, on top of the rumpled blanket, while hers were gone and those that I had laid out that morning were untouched. The pizza, however, had disappeared. On the table, was a small piece of paper.
[6]
I had a late shift the next day. When I got off, around eleven, I decided to head to a bar before heading home. I didn’t make up my mind to get an after-work drink at that point, actually. I made that decision when I woke up.
It was a Tuesday night, and the bar wasn’t very busy. I ordered a beer, and winced as I took a big sip. By the time I got halfway through the tall glass, it was at least tolerable. The beer inside me was lonely, so I ordered it a companion.
As the barwoman poured me more alcohol, I reached into my pocket for a folded piece of paper. I opened it, as the waitress put down a second glass in front of me.
“Number two,” she said casually.
“Two’s a party.” I wasn’t sure what I was talking about. I felt disinterested in the amber liquid in front of me, and I looked down at the slip of paper.
From the two, penciled words, I could tell Katelyn’s penmanship was odd for a girl. Most females I had known articulated the written word smoothly and clearly, often with large, round lettering. Hers was nearly illegible, with small, course, uneven letters. “You” sank downward, as she had finished the thought, and “thank” looked like “thunk” with a floating ‘n’. I chugged my beer, trying to avoid the bitter flavor as much as possible, and ordered another.
“You shouldn’t drink too much if you’re going to drive.”
“I’m on foot.” She shrugged, and poured me a third from the tap.
“Three’s a crowd.” She just smiled, and I still had no idea what I was saying.
I walked home, the “crowd” hazing my vision.
[7]
It took me a few moments to figure out what the lump near my building’s door was. A little more harshly than I intended, I shook Katelyn’s shoulder to wake her up. I don’t know how long she had waited there, but it was almost one in the morning. She opened her mouth, but I cut her off.
“Come on up.” She followed me inside, and up the stairs, as I grasped the rail. She stood near the couch in my apartment, but I walked straight to the sink. After a glass of water, I headed straight to my bed, not meeting her eyes.
Alcohol mellowed the enthusiasm I’m sure I normally would have felt. I would feel the relief of having her again near me in the morning, I thought to myself.
“Two’s a party,” I whispered aloud, before I passed out. I still didn’t know.
Digg
del.icio.us
Stumbleupon
Reddit
Furl
Facebook
