Inferno

twenty one | the night out

I  furiously stare at the screen, as though that will make his faded silhouette pop out of the mobile screen somehow and save me confrontation for when we conveniently run into each other again, the air around us stiff and mystique. I wouldn't lie that there's a naive, naive part of me that's still tugging on to the possibility of it not being cruelly harsh and dissolving with him holding a cheeky smile and me not believing my damned stars on how there's a plan out of my reach and capability that draws up a path back to him every time I try to scratch it out.

How could I not see this coming? It's  the place he grew up in, I knew that, but it's only now that I'm questioning my sub conscious over leaning towards and entertaining the thought of Vancouver in the first place. It's too late to sprint back to routine habits, pack my bags and escape once again, or I'll end up being that person; the one hit wonder who's on streets now, lurking in libraries to convince people to buy copies of the shit show she once wrote. I need this job and actual poltergeists can haunt me for all I care, but the bottom line is that I've got to suck it and show up at the office, Monday morning.

The oncoming weekend doesn't look all that sunny, now that I'm even reluctant to leave the house in broad day light. The dawn's not going to hover above until at least two hours, so I pull my running shoes out of one of the trolley bags and tip toe out of the house with my hood over the messy hair bun and ear phones wadded in the pocket. The left over chicken tahini we had for dinner is sitting on the stove in a China bowl and next to it an uncorked white wine, the bottle seeming like I've seen it before.

It's surprisingly humid outside for late October, yet I am not feeling up to the risk of pulling the zipper down on my jacket. It appears to be a safe neighbourhood and if not, I'm not entirely closed off to the idea of getting shipped to a place far away by a bunch of captors. Anywhere that's clean of my blitzed past and of guilt fragrant in the air.

Sticking to a country songs pre mix, I mindlessly jog through the empty streets, noting the banners and boards of the shops on my sides to keep occupant and not delve over my uneven breathing. There's a creamery, a furniture store, a scrap selling basement from the looks of it, and a 24/7 chemist with lights so flashy you wouldn't miss it from a mile away. Although, that's the point I guess.

There's not a single soul to be seen and yet I stammer on the pavement, observing the roads before crossing over to head inside the shop. Once inside, I pull the thick material off my head, taking a breather while I scout the poorly organised shelves for a strawberry gum. I grab a bunch out of the plastic container filled to the rim and as loud as the table fan running by the counter is, I don't miss on the snicker from an aisle ahead; more of a feminine giggle if I'm to go by the light crimson curly top visible from where I'm standing and stalking. My hunch is confirmed once I spot her at the cash register, her bag full of funny coloured pill bottles. "It's 250, ma'am," the billing person says, earning a mellow curse out of her as she sorts through her clutch and empties some crinkle bills out, still short apparently.

"Can't you just put the 15 on my account? I'll definitely come back tomorrow to clear the bill."

"Sorry, ma'am, we have a strict no credit policy."

"Of course, you do," sighing, she hunches forward and picks up the bottles to verify the prices of each one, clumsily putting her round framed spectacles up before she does so.

"I'll take her tab," I slide forward my credit card, and subtly along the gums with the loud pink wrappers. "It's okay, 15 bucks is not a huge amount." I shrug, cutting the procedural 'no, you don't have to, 'let me," interaction short when she begins saying something, for I'm not entirely in possession of the energy to go through that. Although, it doesn't seem the end of it as we step outside together, the neon lights of the banner now switched off in the wake of the slipping dark in the sky, and she keeps staring my way in a manner that I'd feel like a bitch to walk off without a word.