The shutters keep the room real dark, even when the sun comes up. I like that. I like wakin’ up in a dark room. Not that I don’t like the sun, I do, but I like to wake up kinda slow if I can.
I do that this morning. I lay there and just look at the room, at my orange wall and the shadows and the newness of everything. There’s still a waxy smell in the air from all the candles. Took me forever to get them out, and I never did manage with that damn fire in the living room, it just burned itself out on its own. God, it all looked so nice when I got home yesterday. And now it still looks nice. Even in this half dark, shadowy light.
I hear Siobhan in the kitchen and close my eyes.
I dreamed about her last night. Nothin’ special, just that she was here, in the house. And maybe it wasn’t a dream, maybe it wasn’t last night. Maybe I heard her in my sleep when she came in this morning, and then I just thought it was a dream when it was really real. Only, no, it was a dream ‘cause I was in the kitchen, too, and I was just watchin’ her, like I do sometimes. I was followin’ her as she did all the things she does every morning. Watched her make the coffee, take out the pans, the eggs. She made me cheesy eggs. I like that, a lot of cheese in a bunch of scrambled eggs, all on buttered toast.
And the whole time she didn’t even know I was watchin’ her, and that’s when I knew I was dreamin’.
Weird.
Now I’m just listening to her. She turns on the sound system, low. Probably thinks I’m upstairs. Doesn’t matter, it’s not disturbing me at all. It’s nice. I hear the coffee start to gurgle through the machine. Smell it. I should get up but I don’t wanna move. I’m warm and comfortable.
I’m home.
I don’t know why that’s so important to me. I’m never home much. Not until the past year or so. I’ve had other homes. But once Backstreet took off, I was never there. It became like a once in a while thing to be home, and then, home was usually my grandparent’s place. My mom and I didn’t get our own house for a long time, and then the career thing really broke loose, and I wasn’t there much, either.
I’ve never needed a home, I guess. Hotels. Motels. Other people’s places.
I liked my house in Florida, but it wasn’t really like a home, if I think about it. It was a place I lived in, and I had my girl and my dogs and shit, but I wasn’t there a lot and when I was it wasn’t always relaxing. I partied a lot then, and it was a party house. Hell, I even did this dumbass thing for MTV, or VH1, or one of those stations, where they come into your house, and I couldn’t remember which rooms were which and how the fuckin’ doors opened. ‘Course I was stoned off my ass when they filmed it, so I’m sure that had a lot to do with it.
I don’t look at that stuff anymore. One, I don’t like to see myself high. Two, I don’t like to see myself with Amanda, because it still hurts like hell that I’m not with her anymore. Three, I don’t even own that house any more and it seems like ancient history, and I never liked history much.
Fuck it.
But this place, even with all the drama and bullshit, this place is startin’ to feel like home. And my home, too. MINE. No one else’s. I snuggle down under this blanket. It’s so friggin’ soft, its like not even havin’ it on, but it’s been keepin’ me warm all night.
I hear footsteps. I hear Shi comin’ down the hall, into the living room. She does something in the fireplace, I hear her move the screen and the scrape of metal on stone. Ashes. She’s gettin’ rid of the ashes. Then I hear her put the shovel and screen back and come across the hall. I keep my eyes closed and think to myself, for one real quick second, that I’m invisible as long as my eyes are closed. Like a kid would think. And I have to try hard not to laugh or move.
I peek at her from eyes that I keep like slits.
More new clothes. I’ve never seen that skirt, that top. Nice. Thin cotton skirt in a deep green, a white, flimsy top, and that belt on her hips again. She’s closin’ up the doors on the entertainment center, shakin’ her head to herself. I know what she’s thinkin’. She’s thinkin’ that I’m too pathetic to even close up after myself. To put out a fire and shove the ashes outta the way. She’d be just about right.
She bends over a little to pick up a DVD I left on the floor and I see the dangle of the necklace. She’s wearin’ it. Seein’ it gives me an incredible thrill. Stupid. Stupid me. I’m NOT goin’ there. I’m not, not, not goin’ there and fuckin’ it up and, and I’m just not.
But I like that she’s wearin’ it. I can’t stop likin’ that.
“’Morning,” I say. Ever see anyone jump? It’s pretty funny. Gettin’ a DVD case thrown at me is NOT funny, well, hell, yeah, that’s pretty funny, too.
“DON’T DO THAT!” she shouts. Her hands reach up and hold her face. Damn. So pretty when she’s flustered. Damn.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, but I’m not. Not really. It was funny, and she gets all flushed when I scare her like that. I like that, the pink in her face and the way her eyes go all big and wide. I think that’s why I tiptoe around here. Just to see her jump.
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“I will exact revenge on you the next time you do that,” I tell him. My heart’s going a mile a minute and he’s laying there on the sofa laughing. Well, trying NOT to laugh, but he is on the inside, I can tell.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and I know he’s not sorry at all. In fact, he didn’t mean it the first time he said it. He was probably just waiting for me to come into the den so he could frighten me. I make a mental note to get a pair of moccasins so I can creep around the house and scare the living wits out of him myself.
“YOU, are a very bad liar. I suppose you expect me to make you breakfast now, right? Well,” and I lift my hand and splay my fingers towards him, “poof! You’re breakfast.”
“Cheese eggs, please?” And he bats his baby browns at me, trying to look contrite, trying to look sorry, and it’s not working, but it doesn’t matter.
“Cheese eggs.”
“Please?” More batting. It’s a crime for a man to have eyelashes longer than your average woman’s. A crime.
“Fine,” I say and I turn on my heel and leave him there. Then I back up and stick my head through the door. “By the way, the bill for that blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself is in the upper four figures. It’s one-of-a-kind, and it’s fragile. It’s a burial blanket. Thought it would make an interesting dinner conversation topic.”
I enjoy his look of horror as he flings the blanket off.
“Wait, no, the one on the wall is the burial blanket. The one you’re using is a saddle blanket, I think. You know, one they’d put on an ass.” I smile. “Cheese eggs, right? Right.”
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“What’s up with dinner?” I ask Shi over my plate of eggs.
“Just a barbecue. The usual. I didn’t have time to do up anything fancy, so it’s plain old hamburgers and hot dogs.”
“That’s cool.”
“There’s plenty and I can get more if you want to add to the guest list,” she says.
“No, I just wanted to know what we were havin’.”
“Didn’t they feed you out there? Or were you so busy that you just forgot to eat?” she asks, a laugh in her voice.
“I ate. Wasn’t that great.”
“Shame,” she says. “I’m going to sort your laundry. Is ANYTHING clean in those bags?”
“Nope.”
“Did you take your medication last night?”
“Yup. The box is still in the den.”
“Fine. Is there anything special you want for tomorrow? I’m going to be around and I’ll be cooking if you’re interested.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Steak? A big one?”
“Steak, a big one. I just happen to have one with your name on it in the fridge.” She smiles that smile, that smile that lets me know that she’s light years ahead of me. Then she winks and leaves the kitchen for the laundry room, hummin’ under her breath the way she does.
Small things.
My life for the past ten years or more has pretty much revolved around big things. Big events. Big money. The big time. Big. And I’ve always had these big things to look forward to. And there were big disappointments all mixed in with it. Big equals big.
Now I have small things to look forward to. Like clean sheets, scrambled eggs with cheese, a coupla people droppin’ in for burgers, and a steak. Okay, the steak is big, but, it’s small, too. It’s kinda nice for a change, this small stuff instead of big stuff. Makes me think that if I take things in little steps, I can do things.
Vegas was an ‘almost’ mistake. The last night there made it better, made it okay, ‘cause I got to a point where I could understand something. I don’t think I’ll be goin’ back there any time soon. I’ve had my fill of it. I can’t party anymore. I partied plenty in Vegas and it not only reminds me of things I can’t do, it reminds me of things I DID do, and why I did them. None of it is what I would call ‘good’.
I got regrets.
Plenty of them.
I just can’t keep makin’ my regrets the end all, be all of my life. I still have a life I need to live. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it; that’s almost too scary to think about right now. But I can’t keep goin’ back and trying to see if I can make things feel and work the old way. They don’t. I got it. I finally got that. Too bad it took so long. Too bad I fucked up so much along the way. But I can’t change a lot of that, either.
“Alex, are you okay?” Shi is standing in the door to the laundry, talking to me. I didn’t even hear her, or see her.
“I’m okay.” People were askin’ me that all last week. ‘Are you okay? Are you okay?’ I’m okay. I think I’m okay. I feel okay, about all of it. Not great. Okay.
Some days that’s the most I can ask for.
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
