Disclaimer: I do not live in New Orleans, or work as a bar musician so no offense is meant.
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The windows were thrown open, letting in the damp summer nights air. The mindless fan going around and around the ceiling. The first specks of light were poking through the clouds in the east. The coffee dribbling into the pot, right on schedule.
In bed, it was hot. The covers were thrown about and clung to my body like an insistent child clinging to its mother. During the summertime, I slept in slips, the one I wore to bed last night tossed aside off my body as the heat became unbearable late into the night.
Opening my eyes, I looked out the window at the now light-streaked clouds. Sunrises in summer were well worth the heat, I concluded, even though I wasn't a massive fan of the humid, damp heat. Planting my feet on the ground, I pushed myself up. The wooden floorboards were sticky to the touch. Looking around the floor, I spotted my rouge-colored nightgown from the night before and slipped it back over my head onto my body. The nightgown was cool to the touch, for now, after being off my body for so long. The morning was just beginning, and somehow I was already sweating.
The coffee beeped, informing me that it was done brewing. Walking over, I poured myself a cup. My mug was one of my favorites, it had chubby cats of all different breeds covering it, and at the top, it said "London" in big, bold letters. I have never been to London but had been given this mug by my friend, Lena, who had been two summers ago with her boyfriend at the time. I took my coffee black and cup in hand, walked over to my sofa.
My apartment in New Orleans was small but classy, with enough space for just me. I lived in the french quarter of New Orleans; I was on the edge of this area for easy walking distance to the regular city. I was grateful for the more solitude here; my windows showcased trees planted on the sidewalks. The morning sun filtering through the leaves gave off a green tinge, instilling calm in me. I was not one of the lucky few who got a balcony, but my building was quint in size. Housing only four occupants, it had long vines growing up much of the building, giving it an "I-could-crumble-to-the-ground-at-any-moment" feel. The street was tucked away and affordable, so I was grateful.
Looking out the window while drinking my coffee, I felt a pang of loneliness. I knew it was bizarre to say this, but sometimes I wished someone was here in these moments only I share. Someone to talk to about how I slept, felt, and to just laugh with. I have never been in a relationship, unless you counted the squirrel I always fed sunflower seeds a relationship, and I wish I didn't feel like I was missing out on this crucial part of my life that all my friends had. Guys have asked me out before, but I just never thought about commitment with anyone. The more I thought about regretted opportunities, the more lonely I became.
Shaking myself out of my trance down memory lane, I noticed I had finished my coffee and went to put my mug in the sink. I would get to the dishes another time. Maybe.
For breakfast, I looked in the cupboards and fridge, deciding. I recently drank my coffee while watching the sunrise, full-on morning now coming in through my window, and then having a bite to eat. Or, in my case, a full-blown meal. Deciding on a bowl of cereal and fruit, I got out the Life cereal, milk, and orange I picked up from the grocer yesterday. Breakfast went by in a lull of clinks on the side of my bowl caused by my spoon and clumsy, awkward hands. Peaceful calmness, that's what morning gave way to me. I liked mornings because it was before the cars in the French quarter began moving. A slower pace for when I am just waking up.
After breakfast, I turned the water to cold in the shower and stripped off my clothes. The water ran over my sweaty body, cooling me down in a sudden and electric second. I basked in it, utterly content with being in this water for the day, but I knew that wasn't realistic. So, turning off the water, I stepped out of the shower and into the newly dawned day.
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Knocking on my door interrupts me from beginning to wash my dishes. 'Oh well,' I think, 'I guess not today.' I had got dressed in a pale yellow summer dress with flowers on it, not doing anything with my frizzy locks, or putting on any makeup or shoes. Getting to the door, I open it and am greeted with a friendly face.
"Hey Ellie," my neighbor, Mrs. Kellianne, says.
I immediately noticed the bundled-up kitten in her arms and make a start, "Aww, the cutie. Is everything alright?" I ask, returning my attention to her and remembering my manners.
"Oh, yes, quite alright, dearie," she replies, " I don't mean to burden you, but I have adopted this poor fellow here from the shelter just yesterday. He is quite skinny, you see, and I am afraid to leave him alone while I go get some kitten food for him. Do ya think you could watch him for, oh I'd say, only but an hour? If it would not be too much trouble."
"No trouble at all," I promptly reply, "What's his name?"
"Scotty," Mrs. Kellianne replies while handing the kitty over into my arms.
"You are an angel sent from above, I must say, Ms. Ellie, now all be back now.", and with that, she turns on her heel and is gone.
Standing in the doorway, I nudged the door closed with my foot and set to look after Scotty. He looked like an orange tabby cat, and I was relieved to realize he was sleeping. 'Looking after this one will be easy as pie,' I thought. Snuggling into my couch, I placed Mr. Scotty on my lap, wrapped in the blanket, and turned the TV on. I knew the exact movie I would put on, 101 Dalmatians, my comfort movie. Settling into the couch, I began to relax.
It wasn't long into the movie that Scotty began to cry out, in piercing screeches, impressive coming from such a little thing. Unaware of what to do, I frantically hoped Mrs. Kellianne would return soon or risk a neighbor thinking me a kitten abuser. As the screeches got louder, the little kitten struggled out of his wrapping and got to his feet, wobbling.
Now is a good time to mention that I wasn't all that capable in strenuous, demanding situations, so in this one, I did the best I could think of.
'Milk,' I decided, 'the kitten needed milk.'
"Fuck" I said out loud. I used all the milk in my cereal.
I hurriedly wrapped Scotty back in his blankets and placed him in my only wooden basket. Then, for myself, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and went out the door.
I walked at a fast past down my block to the corner street market I knew carried milk; if I could make this trip in 10 minutes, Mrs. Kellianne might never know of this. Once I reached the market, I swung open the door that made a slight tinkle sound to show my arrival. I didn't glance once at the counter, intent on what I came here for and the screaming bundle in my basket.
Reaching the milk aisle, I opened the refrigerator that carried the milk and took out one jug of whole milk. Then making my way back down the aisle towards the cashier, I skimmed the shelves for anything I might need. 'Tampons,' I thought, 'I need tampons.' Grabbing the first one I could see, I made my way to the cashier, trying the soothe Scotty with my hands full.
Reaching the counter, I put my items up, and looking up at the cashier for the first time, promptly almost pissed myself.
I curse myself mentally. 'Why me?' I asked the world, 'why fucking me?'
With naturally blond curls, and a cigarette propped in his mouth, as if he was about to light it, he smirked at me. Me, on the other hand, with a crying kitten on my arm, hair like a lion's mane around my face, and tampons on the counter set before him, gaped at him.
He cleared his throat, and, startled, I said the first thing I could think of.
"Oh, sorry," I coughed, "just those items."
I quickly pulled myself together and looked back down at Scotty to not be looking at the cashier. No, he wasn't at all a cashier. A cashier was usually an old man or a college kid that played video games in his mother's basement. This guy, whoever the fuck he was, was not a cashier. He looks like a genuine bad boy who seduced the young innocent girls in the movies.
I heard the click of the scanner on the items and rummaged in my purse for some spare cash.
"$7.39," he said.
Looking up at him then, I gave him a ten-dollar bill while keeping my gaze on his features.
He gazed right back with an intensity that startled me. Then, breaking eye contact, he took the bill, stuffed it into the drawer, and pulled out my change.
I put out my palm in reflex, and he, matching my palm, turned his upside down to cup over mine. As his hand came down, dropping the change into my palm, his middle finger gently touched my wrist, right where my veins split into separate paths. Unflinching at his movement, he lifted his hand back up, and while doing so, traced his finger up my hand. I pulled back now, feeling the line his finger lead.
"Thanks," I murmured and, taking my items, began to leave.
Back at the apartment, I was glad to see that Mrs. Kellianne had not come back yet. Getting the kitten situated, I was annoyed to see that after all that trouble, little Scotty had calmed down on his own. I placed him back on the couch in his basket and sat back on the sofa, as well, to finish watching the movie. It was now 10:30 am, and the experience with the cashier had shaken me. There was something about him; he seemed oddly familiar. I just couldn't really put my finger on it.
Knocking at the door retrieved me from my thoughts, and I quickly got it, relieved to see Mrs. Kellianne at the door.
We traded pleasant farewells, and I closed the door behind her, promising her that we would catch up soon.
'What a lie,' I thought cynically.
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"Uh-huh," I say through my phone, "yes, I heard you, 6:30 at Woldenberg Park."
"Good girl, Ellie," Lena says through the phone, trying to annoy me by talking to me like a dog.
"I'm hanging up now, Lena," and with that, I end the call listening to Lena's cackling laugh in return. I smile to myself despite it.
Woldenberg Park was one of Lena and I's favorite places. There was water, greenery, and it was right up against the central city front; good to have a night in town afterward. It was a Thursday afternoon, and I didn't have any work tonight. The usual bar I played at on Thursdays was closed temporarily for renovations, and I had no other commitments. Other than, of course, having fun and possibly getting rip-roaring drunk, which I only felt comfortable doing when Lena was around.
Sure, I had drinks at work, but I never let myself get that out of control. It was nice to lose control sometimes, but only when someone else was with you. Maybe that was how I lived my life, controlled myself when I was alone but with others, let myself go for a bit. I think I do this because I know people I trust can pull me back in. With myself, I am not so sure.
Being a bar musician has its perks, the first of which being getting paid, mostly, under the table. The second being that you work at a bar, you get free drinks and aren't expected not to get drunk. The third and final being the freedom of it all. This is what I wouldn't trade for the world.
So I say to hell with responsibility, for tonight, what could possibly go wrong?
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Ellie you are a cool bean, I already love you😂😅
If you liked the first chapter please stick around, and share it with others.
ps my drawing skills will improve, i promise
