Starvation

There’s a hollow, empty feeling in my stomach, my head feels dizzy and I can not concentrate. Every task seems too difficult. On top of that, what is the point? It wouldn’t be worth it, not now anyway. So I ignore everything else and grab my bag, swiping my items into it I sling it over my shoulder and leave. They pretend to understand, they act like they do.

But they don’t know the real meaning for my restlessness, they don’t know why I can not stand to be around them. It is not because of what happened. As horrible and heart-breaking as that was for me....she was my sister, he my brother-in-law and I still do not know what happened, not really, I can’t understand it and that’s...that’s where you come in.

Because some how I think you can help, for some reason I feel you, who appeared in my life so suddenly, without warning, on my doorstep with him, both of you asking questions, know more than I do. Know more than anyone else in this stupid town.

Something happened to me when we met, and I wonder if you maybe felt it too. Most likely not. I’m just another person, right? To grill and question and draw information from. You’re not a cop, that much I know. Detective. As if. I’ve never met a pair of detectives who look more like brothers; and I’ve never met cops who drive around in an Impala either.

What happened to my sister, ‘Detective’? What created that horrible, vomit inducting scene?

Why did I feel frozen outside the door, what made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up?

You, I believe, have the answer; the only answer. You hold the truth and I need to find you, talk to you.

In the office, they gaze at me with pitying eyes, thinking it is grief for my sister that causes me to rush out, my head bowed. It is not this grief, it is the hollow, empty feeling when I am away from you.

I found myself leaning against the bar, slowly smoking a cigarette before my shift started. Those at the office had sympathy for me, excused my no-show days and early absences. They would for a little while longer. But here, here my boss and friend would not hold with me having more than a week off.

“You need to keep your head up kid,” he told me on my first day back “you need to stay in the game. I can’t let you wallow in grief at home.”

I preferred being at the bar to the office anyway. The guys here didn’t gaze at me with pity, they didn’t ask “how are you” with that strange head tilt. No, they just laughed and carried on as normal, barking orders at me if I was being too slow, criticising me if I wasn’t paying attention.

I pushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and made my way to the other side of the bar. Loping my hair back and a bobble through my brown strands, I approached my first customer of the night.

A couple of hours later and I move quickly up and down the bar, taking drink orders and passing the glasses to them within seconds. Money exchanges hands, my fingers move skilfully in and out of the till even as I take the next order. The bar tonight is busy, just how I like it at the moment, distracting with so many people around.

You ever see the movie Coyote Ugly?

My job is nothing like that. We don’t have girls dancing on the bar, we don’t have a stupid hose every time someone asks for water. If anything, we encourage people to drink it – if they need to.

“Next.” I lifted my head, and found myself staring straight into those eyes that had been haunting my mind for the last three days. As he asked for two beers, I stumbled over my words before composing myself and nodding, fixing a smile to my face before I whirled around and went to the fridge that stored the bottles.

And that’s another thing. What kind of detective wears a beat-up leather jacket?

As I lean down for the beers that feeling returns; it feels like something is clutching at my stomach. I feel hungry and full at the same time. The first time I felt it was when I laid eyes on you, and it hasn’t gone away since. Now it’s back in full force; it had been pushed away as the bar got busier, but as our eyes locked it came back.

I placed the bottles on the top of the bar, forcing myself to smile happily at him despite the fact that I could feel my cheeks burning. I gave him the price, and waited for the money. Our fingers brushed and a jolt of electricity rushed through my hand, up my arm and down my spine. He looked up, eyes narrowed and staring intently at me.

“Paige, right?”

“Uh huh.” I slipped my hand in the till, withdrawing his change. “Nice to see you again, Detective...”

“Walker.”

“Of course.” How could I forget? Though I had a feeling it wasn’t his real name. “How’s the case going?”

He frowned at this, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll have some answers for you soon, Miss Walsh.”

A buzz of happiness flows through me. I’ve never liked my name more than when you say it. It sounds stupid, strange, but its true.

“Paige, please. Just Paige.”

“Of course.” He smiled then, and just then, if possible, he became even more handsome. The broody, thoughtful look suited him, but so did the happy go lucky smile he had on now.

“Dean, we’ve got a lead.”

Both of us turned to the tall man who had pushed his way through the crowd. He gripped Detective Walker’s arm, his eyes wide.

“Detective James.” I nodded at the man, who glanced at me and frowned. I knew he was trying to place me, to remember who I was.

“Paige Walsh. Susie’s sister.”

“Of course.” He nodded, turned back to his partner. “Dean, I need to talk to you.”

“Paige! Come on!” I glanced over to see Danny staring hard at me, gesturing to the waiting crowd.

“I’d...better get back to work.” I muttered lamely, glancing once more at Dean as Detective James pulled him backwards.

“Me too. See you around Paige.”

And like that I was back taking orders, now unable to ignore that feeling in my stomach.

I’ve had boyfriends before, I’ve been on dates and had that nervous butterfly feeling that fills you, that shakes you and makes you bite your lips, lick your teeth, the feeling that brings out all those nervous ticks.

But I’ve never felt like this.

I’ve never wanted to be with someone this much.

I’d settle even just for a platonic friendship, just to be around you.

What is it about you, Dean Walker, that makes me feel like this?

I felt like I should eat, felt like I needed to cook something, anything to rid myself of the hollowness I felt. Maybe that was all it was, hunger. I had hardly eaten since my sister’s gruesome death, had been unable to force myself to cook or eat at the bar.

Too many times I had gone through periods of not feeling like eating. Mostly they were related to break-ups and bad news. But Susie had always known when I would be feeling like this, and she’d be round my small flat, shopping in her hands. She’d push past me and take over my kitchen, cook me up something delicious. She was a great cook, especially when it came to my favourite. I had never been able to resist her chicken dinners.

It had been the reason, I guess, I had found them. Susie had called me at work, at the office, asking if I was working that night. When I’d said no, she’d invited me around for dinner. “I’ve got some amazing news for you, little sister.”

Knowing Susie, this news could be anything. From the knowledge that her husband’s cute friend had recently become single, to having three tickets to Europe in the summer.

Whatever it had been, I was excited as I left the office and strolled towards their small two-storey house. As soon as I reached the driveway though, I knew something was wrong. The house was in total darkness, which was very unlike Susie and her husband. They liked the make the house as welcoming as possible.

”Please Miss Walsh, we need as much information as possible.”

“Of course. And I’m trying to remember.”

I stared at the floor, refusing to look at you or him. I could tell he was the softer one, the tone of his voice was one intended to be soothing, kind. Both of you lingered in the living room, standing around and casting glances at each other. When I looked up you had wondered over to the shelf, reaching out and fingering a frame.

“Is that your sister, Miss Walsh?” You had asked, staring hard at the photo of me and Susie, taken when we were teenagers, getting ready for a night out.

“Yes. That’s Susie. And please, I prefer Paige.”

“Paige...” I heard the sigh from you, before you turned and looked around the rest of the room. I don’t think you looked at me, not properly. But for some reason I could not take my eyes off you, I could not help but watch you as you moved around, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

“I stopped in the driveway. The day was sunny. But outside the door I felt...I felt cold. Something made me stop. Like I knew something was wrong.”

“How could you have known that?” The words slipped out and I knew they had because you looked surprised at yourself, you turned quickly away.

“Detective...” His voice was low, hissing – a warning. He was younger, that much I could tell. A year or so younger than me, I guessed, but I knew he was pulling rank, so to speak. He had looked at me. “I’m sorry for his behaviour, Miss Walsh. What happened then?”

It had been quiet, silent when I reached forward and rang the bell. The sound echoed through the whole house, and for some reason, despite the normality of it I had shuddered. I had turned the handle, expecting to find it locked.

Coldness ran down my spine as the door swung open at my touch. Pushing myself forward I had gone in, stepping into the house. It was freezing – Susie’s husband, the sweet guy, couldn’t stand the cold.

“Susie?” My voice sounded too loud in the quiet, and I found myself moving in the dark, too scared to turn the lights on. I yelled her name again as I went into their living room, their kitchen, their den. Nothing. A paperback book lay face down on the kitchen table, pots of vegetables sat uncooked on the hob.

Suddenly, panic flooded my body and I fled up the stairs.

Something bad had happened that day, Detective Walker. I’d known it, I think, as soon as I woke up after falling asleep after work. I’d felt not too great, hungry and hollow (though not like I do away from you) before sleeping. But after? I woke up fine, the hollow feeling gone. Though now something nagged at the back of my mind as I got ready to see my sister. She was lovely, like you would never believe. So kind and full of life. She’d always looked after me. I’d fallen over a lot as a kid, a clumsy child, and she was always there to pick me up and make me feel better.

Have you got any siblings?

I still doubt you are a real detective, still maybe think there is something lurking beneath your calm surface. And if that is true, is James your brother?

Do you look after him like my sister looked after me?

I hope so, because we had a good bond, my sister and I. I always felt pity for those only-children, those kids with no siblings. Now that bond is gone, ripped away from me and it hurts, it hurts so much but not as much as this feeling, this hungry feeling that makes my head pulse and my whole body ache.