Gabrielle’s Story
Part 4 of 4
She turned her television on with the sound down low. An episode of Law and Order played in the background, the snowy picture warbled on the ancient television. She turned on her clock radio which she kept tuned to the classic rock station; “Smoke On The Water” by Deep Purple played, the display blinked twelve.
She made her way into the kitchen. She unpacked her food basket she received earlier in the day: soup, pasta, a bottle of apple juice, a loaf of bread. She discovered a pamphlet for Narcotics Anonymous in-between a box of crackers and a jar of spaghetti sauce - the little extra something from Father Michael, she thought. She stared at the front of the pamphlet for a moment, The letters NA were in a large circle branded on the front, underneath it she read, Welcome to Narcotics anonymous. She opened it and was immediately assaulted by words - lot of them. She tries to read more but she’s never been much good at reading, but tries none the less:
Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous
Welcome to your first NA meeting. NA offers addicts a way to live drug free. If you are not sure you’re an addict, don’t worry about it; just keep coming to our meetings. You will have all the time….
She closed the pamphlet, took another look at the NA logo branded on the cover and then tossed into her overflowing trash can.
Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” began to play. Gabrielle flopped onto her bed and stared at the silent episode of Law and Order for a few minutes while she listened to the song. Eventually, she started to pray but it didn’t last very long before she gave up. She wasn’t in the mood for God tonight. Her eyes eventually shut involuntarily and she fell asleep.
It’s was a restless sleep. She tossed and turned as the radio continued to play. She was awoken by a commercial for a car dealership. An anonymous announcer shouted, “NO CREDIT! BAD CRDIT! WE DON’T CARE! EVERYBODY IS APPROVED!”
She groaned and looked over at the television which was now just static. The lifeless glow of the television engulfed her as she lied in her bed. She closed her eyes again, a song she couldn’t identify began to play. She started to cough again and she knew this time it was going to be bad. She sat up on the edge of her bed and continued to cough until the phlegm rose up into her mouth. She got up, slipped on her flip-flops and made her way to the bathroom.
She knelt on the grimy linoleum in front of the toilet and spat up the phlegm. She tried to focus on the song that came from the radio but it was no use, she couldn’t identify it. She rested her head on the rim of the seat and tired to sleep but the coughing and spitting continued. She thought to herself, What is that song?
She remained that way, passing the time by trying to name the various songs that came onto the radio until eventually, she lost track of time as well as the songs. Again she contemplated prayer but once more chose not to. At some point the coughing stopped and she felt good enough to return to bed.
She flushed the toilet and made her way back to her fold out bed in the middle of the living room. She thought about how she wanted a cigarette and watched the eerie glow from the television for a while as it surround the room. The DJ from the radio spoke of a ticket give away. She looked at the overflowing trash can and the NA pamphlet on top. She walked over, picked it up out of the trash and slide it into the kitchen drawer landing upon another pamphlet that was exactly the same, except for the color of the paper it was printed on (the new one was white while the old one was yellow). She closed the drawer and paused with her hand on it for a moment as if she had thought of something - something she had never thought of before. Then she removed her hand from the drawer and returned to bed.
“More Then a Feeling” by Boston started to play. She lied in the unnatural glow of the television static, before long, her eyes began to shut as she felt another wave of sleep begin to take over. She remained awake just long enough to have heard Boston’s Brad Delp recite, “I close my eyes and she slips away,” before Gabrielle successfully surrendered to sleep for the remainder of the night.
The End
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
BLOG 10 - Gabrielle’s Story (Part Three)
Part 3 of 4
Manny lived in a first floor apartment three blocks from City View Apartments, called Stellar Vista - it was a shit hole. Due to the heavy drug trafficking and prostitution nobody was suppose to receive visitors at Stellar Vista unless they first showed ID at security desk upon arrival. Manny dealt with this by having his clients climb in through a broken window in his bathroom - leading to an occasional awkward moment.
Manny was an old man - he was asleep in his room. Out in his living room various people were scattered about passed out on his furniture. Across one wall, located above the dinning room table, the word “fuck” was written in large thick black magic marker. An occasional cockroach and other unidentified bugs crawled across the sleeping occupants on Manny’s furniture. The windows were blocked up with towels or laundry - a black haze and rotted smell hung over the entire dwelling.
It was about three in the afternoon and Gabrielle came to smoke some crack. She walked into Manny’s room. The room was empty except a borua which was covered in miscellaneous crap - shoelaces, broken wristwatch, bus pass, an empty beer can. A cockroach crawled across the top and then slipped into the top drawer. A picture of the Virgin Marry hung on the wall opposite the borough above his bed. He slept on a grimy twin bed with out any sheets. The mattress stained from the bed bug infestation. He wore a pair of boxers. His bare back covered in bed bug bites. Gabrielle sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Papa,” she said quietly. “Papa it’s me, Gabby.”
Everybody called Manny Papa. He was old and weak. He allowed the crack dealers to use his place and they kept him in drugs. He rolled over and faced Gabrielle. He had a pale gaunt face with sunken eyes. His hair was shaved close to the scalp and his face unshaven. He was a little over sixty but his appearance said more like eighty.
Gabrielle lied down upon the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and they slept for a while. Eventually, she went down on him but he was unable to come. So she just kept it up until he lost his erection and pulled her off of him and lied back down. This was how it usually went.
“Top drawer,” he said. “I want some too.”
She went to the borough and pulled out his crack pipe, another cockroach scurried out from under it as she picked it up. She went back over to the bed and sat down. She helped Manny sit up and the two of them smoked crack from the pipe. For a short time they both felt good.
They slept some more. The people in the other room began to stir and Gabrielle was awoken by their voices. She gently got herself of the bed, careful not to awaken Manny, and made her way to the living room. Two of the visitors had awaken, one half sat/half reclined on the couch, with a worn out comforter around his shoulders. The other sat in broken recliner, with the back pushed all the way back. They were arguing about breakfast. Gabrielle stood in the doorway, half asleep and weak, watching them until she started a coughing fit which interrupted them. She walked over to the kitchen sink which was filled with dirty dishes and spat into it, unsuccessfully missing the dishes. She cleared her throat and spat up some more.
“You want some breakfast?” The one on the couch asked her.
She ran some water trying to dilute the phlegm which clung to the edge of a dish. The phlegm seemed to be fighting back. “We got anything?”
“Nah,” said the one on the recliner, “just dreaming.”
Gabrielle increased the water from the facet and watched the phlegm detach itself from the dish and make it’s way into the sink and slip underneath a mug; disturbing a cockroach in the process which scurried it’s way out of the sink and under a crack in the counter. She shut the water off and sat in a chair at the table - the one with the word “fuck” written above it on the wall.
Another person slept across from her their head on the table. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or a women. Another, a bearded male who appeared to be in his forties, was curled up on the other side of the couch that had comforter man dreaming about breakfast on the other end.
“Sausages…Hmm,” said the man in the recliner to nobody in particular.
“Home fries,” replied comforter man.
Gabrielle asked to the room if anybody had a cigarette. Comforter man tossed her one from his nest on the couch. She lit it, inhaled, and wished she was somewhere else.
Later she sat on the steps of the Public Library and smoked the cigarette Father Michael gave her. She watched the people come and go as they picked up and dropped off their books. She wondered about their lives - senior citizens, students, kids, all from another world then hers. It got dark. She went home.
To be continued…
Manny lived in a first floor apartment three blocks from City View Apartments, called Stellar Vista - it was a shit hole. Due to the heavy drug trafficking and prostitution nobody was suppose to receive visitors at Stellar Vista unless they first showed ID at security desk upon arrival. Manny dealt with this by having his clients climb in through a broken window in his bathroom - leading to an occasional awkward moment.
Manny was an old man - he was asleep in his room. Out in his living room various people were scattered about passed out on his furniture. Across one wall, located above the dinning room table, the word “fuck” was written in large thick black magic marker. An occasional cockroach and other unidentified bugs crawled across the sleeping occupants on Manny’s furniture. The windows were blocked up with towels or laundry - a black haze and rotted smell hung over the entire dwelling.
It was about three in the afternoon and Gabrielle came to smoke some crack. She walked into Manny’s room. The room was empty except a borua which was covered in miscellaneous crap - shoelaces, broken wristwatch, bus pass, an empty beer can. A cockroach crawled across the top and then slipped into the top drawer. A picture of the Virgin Marry hung on the wall opposite the borough above his bed. He slept on a grimy twin bed with out any sheets. The mattress stained from the bed bug infestation. He wore a pair of boxers. His bare back covered in bed bug bites. Gabrielle sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Papa,” she said quietly. “Papa it’s me, Gabby.”
Everybody called Manny Papa. He was old and weak. He allowed the crack dealers to use his place and they kept him in drugs. He rolled over and faced Gabrielle. He had a pale gaunt face with sunken eyes. His hair was shaved close to the scalp and his face unshaven. He was a little over sixty but his appearance said more like eighty.
Gabrielle lied down upon the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and they slept for a while. Eventually, she went down on him but he was unable to come. So she just kept it up until he lost his erection and pulled her off of him and lied back down. This was how it usually went.
“Top drawer,” he said. “I want some too.”
She went to the borough and pulled out his crack pipe, another cockroach scurried out from under it as she picked it up. She went back over to the bed and sat down. She helped Manny sit up and the two of them smoked crack from the pipe. For a short time they both felt good.
They slept some more. The people in the other room began to stir and Gabrielle was awoken by their voices. She gently got herself of the bed, careful not to awaken Manny, and made her way to the living room. Two of the visitors had awaken, one half sat/half reclined on the couch, with a worn out comforter around his shoulders. The other sat in broken recliner, with the back pushed all the way back. They were arguing about breakfast. Gabrielle stood in the doorway, half asleep and weak, watching them until she started a coughing fit which interrupted them. She walked over to the kitchen sink which was filled with dirty dishes and spat into it, unsuccessfully missing the dishes. She cleared her throat and spat up some more.
“You want some breakfast?” The one on the couch asked her.
She ran some water trying to dilute the phlegm which clung to the edge of a dish. The phlegm seemed to be fighting back. “We got anything?”
“Nah,” said the one on the recliner, “just dreaming.”
Gabrielle increased the water from the facet and watched the phlegm detach itself from the dish and make it’s way into the sink and slip underneath a mug; disturbing a cockroach in the process which scurried it’s way out of the sink and under a crack in the counter. She shut the water off and sat in a chair at the table - the one with the word “fuck” written above it on the wall.
Another person slept across from her their head on the table. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or a women. Another, a bearded male who appeared to be in his forties, was curled up on the other side of the couch that had comforter man dreaming about breakfast on the other end.
“Sausages…Hmm,” said the man in the recliner to nobody in particular.
“Home fries,” replied comforter man.
Gabrielle asked to the room if anybody had a cigarette. Comforter man tossed her one from his nest on the couch. She lit it, inhaled, and wished she was somewhere else.
Later she sat on the steps of the Public Library and smoked the cigarette Father Michael gave her. She watched the people come and go as they picked up and dropped off their books. She wondered about their lives - senior citizens, students, kids, all from another world then hers. It got dark. She went home.
To be continued…
BLOG 9 - The Adventures of David and Lea Part Three
Part Three - Mind Trip
The impression of weeds gently blowing in the breeze lingered in her mind. She brought herself there, to that mental image of the field that seemed to always be calling her. She liked it there. The sky was always a perfect shade of blue and the sun hovered deep within in the idyllic setting. She waded her way through the green up to her waist in the grass. She wore a short plaid skirt that flared out, an indecent length if not for the black tights she wore underneath. A lime green sweater and a pair of non-matching high top Chuck Taylor’s on her feet completed her somewhat absurd look, yet somehow on her it looked just about right. The breeze blew from her back and pushed her naturally messy hair forward, she did not bother to fix it choosing to let it fall where it may. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.
Her thoughts slowly swirled about, wrapping themselves around her, as she stood motionless in the grassy field of her mind. A kind of fluidity took over and she was safely transported further away from reality choosing instead to travel deeper within her. The breeze picked up a bit pushing her slightly forward causing her to spread her arms apart while planting her Chuck Taylor’s firmly in the ground. She let out a sigh.
She thought of David and smiled. They had been friends for five years. Without him she would never have been able to reach this place within her. She thought of the dark corners she had lingered before he came; places she still finds and visits but her stays are shorter and less destructive now that she is able to find her way back to the field, the weeds, and the breeze.
She opened her eyes slightly. A rabbit stood a few yards away; maneuvered itself onto its hind legs, as if to get a better look at her. Rabbits represent fear, she thought. She tried to dismiss the idea from her mind but before she could she felt herself slip away for a bit. The sun dimed slightly as another rabbit appeared.
Her mind lurched as it pulled away. She thought about her fears; the dark, crowds, men, intimacy, sex – She attempted to push them back, to stop her mind from going further down its dark path. The sun grew small and cold. The sky grew dark. Yet another rabbit appeared
She felt the temperature drop. The two rabbit’s ears perked up at the exact same time and she began to feel anxious. The sun continued to shrink, she felt cold, and the light continued to fade. She tried to run but realized she could not move her legs. Yet another rabbit appeared.
She thinks about the pills her doctor gave her, the ones that would create a bridge to lead her out of the dark spots, the pills she thought she didn’t need. Again she tried to push the fear away. She thought about David and thought she felt the sky grow a shade brighter but again her mind lurched. She thought about school, boys, teasing, isolation – she again pushed back. She so wanted the bridge out of here, even if it was a pill. Yet another rabbit appeared.
Her shrink would listen. She would speak. He would say, “Tell me more about that.” And she would. In her first session she said nothing. The two sat in the antiseptic room for one hour exactly in complete silence. She remembered how she could hear the hum of the digital clock riding on top of the silence in the room, it glided on top like a rock skipping upon a wave.
She sat on a worn orangish couch, and clutched a matching pillow. He sat in a matching arm chair with a notebook in his hand. Behind him stood an expensive antique looking bookshelf with an AM radio on it. The bookshelf looked like it belonged in somebody’s grandparent’s parlor. An AM radio, she thought, how strange. Who has just an AM radio now a days? The shelves were lined with an assortment of books on mental illness, a DMS Four, a book on medication and an assortment of books on the field by authors with many initials after their names. Squeezed in-between them was a worn Star Trek paperback novel called The Ghost Ship. She had a sudden vision of her shrink reading only science fiction novels based on cancelled television shows instead of something more scholarly, something with the latest innovations in the field of psychiatry. Suddenly the other books on the shelves were just for show. This bothered her a great deal and she spent a lot of time ruminating about it.
An M.C. Escher print, Relativity, hung on the wall in a cheap frame. It was one the one with all the staircases leading into each other and going every which way, and she thought it was a bit too obvious for a psychiatrist’s office. She stared at the print and thought of herself as a cliché.
Five minutes before the end of the session, after sitting through an hour were neither spoke to each other, besides the initial greeting, the shrink made another appointment with her for the following week. He leaned forward with the card and she took it into her hand and rose from her seat and exited the office. Outside in the waiting room she wondered what had just happened and felt herself begin to shake. A young man, slightly overweight in need of a shave and a haircut, looked up from his magazine and at her. She met his stare before he returned his gaze back to his magazine, making her vanish from his perspective in the process. She remembered that he was reading People and Rosie O’Donnell was on the cover. She remembered thinking, what’s wrong with him? And that seemed to lighten her mood a bit.
She thought of David and smiled. The rabbits were losing interest, vanishing one by one. She returned to the field, the sky, and the breeze. Things were a bit better. She stood in the field undisturbed enjoying the breeze, focusing on it feeling the tips of the grass brush up against her hands. She lost track of time and just was. Leah stood in the field of her mind and was at ease - at rest.
Until she opened her eyes and returned.
The impression of weeds gently blowing in the breeze lingered in her mind. She brought herself there, to that mental image of the field that seemed to always be calling her. She liked it there. The sky was always a perfect shade of blue and the sun hovered deep within in the idyllic setting. She waded her way through the green up to her waist in the grass. She wore a short plaid skirt that flared out, an indecent length if not for the black tights she wore underneath. A lime green sweater and a pair of non-matching high top Chuck Taylor’s on her feet completed her somewhat absurd look, yet somehow on her it looked just about right. The breeze blew from her back and pushed her naturally messy hair forward, she did not bother to fix it choosing to let it fall where it may. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.
Her thoughts slowly swirled about, wrapping themselves around her, as she stood motionless in the grassy field of her mind. A kind of fluidity took over and she was safely transported further away from reality choosing instead to travel deeper within her. The breeze picked up a bit pushing her slightly forward causing her to spread her arms apart while planting her Chuck Taylor’s firmly in the ground. She let out a sigh.
She thought of David and smiled. They had been friends for five years. Without him she would never have been able to reach this place within her. She thought of the dark corners she had lingered before he came; places she still finds and visits but her stays are shorter and less destructive now that she is able to find her way back to the field, the weeds, and the breeze.
She opened her eyes slightly. A rabbit stood a few yards away; maneuvered itself onto its hind legs, as if to get a better look at her. Rabbits represent fear, she thought. She tried to dismiss the idea from her mind but before she could she felt herself slip away for a bit. The sun dimed slightly as another rabbit appeared.
Her mind lurched as it pulled away. She thought about her fears; the dark, crowds, men, intimacy, sex – She attempted to push them back, to stop her mind from going further down its dark path. The sun grew small and cold. The sky grew dark. Yet another rabbit appeared
She felt the temperature drop. The two rabbit’s ears perked up at the exact same time and she began to feel anxious. The sun continued to shrink, she felt cold, and the light continued to fade. She tried to run but realized she could not move her legs. Yet another rabbit appeared.
She thinks about the pills her doctor gave her, the ones that would create a bridge to lead her out of the dark spots, the pills she thought she didn’t need. Again she tried to push the fear away. She thought about David and thought she felt the sky grow a shade brighter but again her mind lurched. She thought about school, boys, teasing, isolation – she again pushed back. She so wanted the bridge out of here, even if it was a pill. Yet another rabbit appeared.
Her shrink would listen. She would speak. He would say, “Tell me more about that.” And she would. In her first session she said nothing. The two sat in the antiseptic room for one hour exactly in complete silence. She remembered how she could hear the hum of the digital clock riding on top of the silence in the room, it glided on top like a rock skipping upon a wave.
She sat on a worn orangish couch, and clutched a matching pillow. He sat in a matching arm chair with a notebook in his hand. Behind him stood an expensive antique looking bookshelf with an AM radio on it. The bookshelf looked like it belonged in somebody’s grandparent’s parlor. An AM radio, she thought, how strange. Who has just an AM radio now a days? The shelves were lined with an assortment of books on mental illness, a DMS Four, a book on medication and an assortment of books on the field by authors with many initials after their names. Squeezed in-between them was a worn Star Trek paperback novel called The Ghost Ship. She had a sudden vision of her shrink reading only science fiction novels based on cancelled television shows instead of something more scholarly, something with the latest innovations in the field of psychiatry. Suddenly the other books on the shelves were just for show. This bothered her a great deal and she spent a lot of time ruminating about it.
An M.C. Escher print, Relativity, hung on the wall in a cheap frame. It was one the one with all the staircases leading into each other and going every which way, and she thought it was a bit too obvious for a psychiatrist’s office. She stared at the print and thought of herself as a cliché.
Five minutes before the end of the session, after sitting through an hour were neither spoke to each other, besides the initial greeting, the shrink made another appointment with her for the following week. He leaned forward with the card and she took it into her hand and rose from her seat and exited the office. Outside in the waiting room she wondered what had just happened and felt herself begin to shake. A young man, slightly overweight in need of a shave and a haircut, looked up from his magazine and at her. She met his stare before he returned his gaze back to his magazine, making her vanish from his perspective in the process. She remembered that he was reading People and Rosie O’Donnell was on the cover. She remembered thinking, what’s wrong with him? And that seemed to lighten her mood a bit.
She thought of David and smiled. The rabbits were losing interest, vanishing one by one. She returned to the field, the sky, and the breeze. Things were a bit better. She stood in the field undisturbed enjoying the breeze, focusing on it feeling the tips of the grass brush up against her hands. She lost track of time and just was. Leah stood in the field of her mind and was at ease - at rest.
Until she opened her eyes and returned.
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