String Bridge by Jessica Bell

Author:Jessica Bell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

I walk into the office almost two hours late—worn out. I head straight for the coffee station for a double dose with my bag still hanging over my shoulder. I open the cupboard above the sink to pull out the jar of Nescafé. But there’s only decaf.

Okay. Percolated.

No filters left.

Shit. I need coffee!

Just as I think things can’t get any worse, I look down at my feet—and there it is—the almost reality of the turn-up-at-school-naked dream. I’m wearing two different shoes—one flip flop and one sandal. Not the most embarrassing combination in the world, but noticeable. If I didn’t manage to coordinate shoes this morning, I dread to look at my face in the mirror. I didn’t even wash off my make-up from last night.

I’m about to run back to my car to see if I have any shoes in my boot when my mobile rings. It’s Heather.

“I’m in the coffee station,” I say, leaning against the counter. I hit my head on the corner of the cupboard I left open. “Ouch!”

“What was that? What are you doing in the coffee station? How long have you been here? Why are you so late?” Heather speeds through the questions as if on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire and she’s using the call-a-friend lifeline.

“Um …” I close the cupboard. “Hit my head. Trying to find some coffee. About two minutes. Long story,” I answer in much the same fashion.

“There’s no coffee,” says Heather.

“Uh … duh!”

Duh? How old are you?

“What?” Heather asks, probably thinking the same thing. “Well, meet me on the lawn. I brought in a thermos of Jarrah’s coffee.”

“Really? Where did you get it? I thought they didn’t sell it here.”

“Long story. Come. Lawn. Now. Desperate.” Heather hangs up.

I run back to my car to seek out a matching pair of shoes. Thankfully, I have an old pair of sandals in the boot from the island.

“Thank you thank you thank you, whoever is out there, thank you,” I whisper.

I catch a glimpse of my wrinkly shirt in the rear view mirror. I freeze.

Don’t do it. Don’t look at your face.

I bend down toward the mirror—my eyes clenched shut.

Okay, do it like the Band Aid trick. Open quickly and it’ll all be over.

I open my eyes. Oh. Mascara a bit runny. Nothing that a bit of saliva can’t fix. I lick my two forefingers and rub away the smudges. Not too bad. I smile at myself. But then I remember.

“There’s nothing to be smiling about, Melody.”

I look toward the tuft of trees at the end of the street. Anesthetized in this semi-humid, pre-summer atmosphere. Stagnant — numb — the way I should feel inside. But I don’t even feel that. I’m beyond numbness. I’ve been through numbness, emptiness, nothingness. What I am, is detached.

You can’t pretend everything is alright forever.

I cough away a swell in my throat as I push the side-view mirror in. The flick resonates through my fingers; the snap through my ears. I kick the car door. Dent it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.