Tired n' Lonely
15
I sat alone on he couch in the back room of my store, with a lit cigarette in my hand and Little Shop of Horrors playing on the TV. I stared at the breezeblock wall as "Suddenly Seymour" rang out loud and clear.
The wall was out of focus, and the jovial tone of the film was out of place with my emotions. I had a lot to think about right now, and not only did I have to think about my future, but I was concerned about Joey now, too.
The smoke from the cigarette rose up infront of my face in a gentle plume and hung in the air around me, and I silently resolved that I would try to give up. It was more of a nervous habit than an addiction, but it was still an unhealthy one.
I stubbed the cigarette out and chucked it half heartedly into the overflowing ashtray which was next to the couch, standing up and going through to the shop to open up again after my short but necessary lunch break.
I smiled at a roup of young men as they entered the store, though my eyes robably betrayed the insincerity of the gesture.
"Can I help you at all?"
"Just seeing what you've got." I took this as permission to ignore them and get on with reshuffling the mess of fliers on the counter into some semblance of order. They left without making a purchase and I closed the shop 4 hours later without so much as another customer entering the store.
I locked the door with a heavy heart that night. I knew that the business couldn't last much longer, but I didn't know anything else. This job was my life, and it was the only freedom I had. To make matters worse my children loved to help me in the store to earn extra money - Craig especially. He probably expected me to hand the store over to him when he was old enough.
I felt a knot in my stomach - it seemed like I was betraying my father by giving up on the store, but there was nothing I could do. Downloads, and free music, had killed my shop years ago, I had been slipping downhill to the inevitable decision to close the shop down for a long time now.
My thoughts returned to the time I had spent at the shop with Joey back in the early nineties, and I suddenly remembered I had left the television on.
"Feed me, Seymour. Feed me."
I sank down onto the couch, head in hands. I didn't want to turn the television off - this place would seem dead if it was silent, and dark.
Like a prison, instead of my sanctuary. I suppose that is what it was. For all the happy times I had spent there, it was still my prison. With a job and a home here I wasn't free to move - without those certainties I would probably have moved my family away from here long ago.
I lit another cigarette, then remembering my resolution I left it to burn out on the side of the ashtray and pulled out my phone instead. Who would I call? Who could I call? I had no one... except Joey.
The film - it reminded me... Audrey, Audrey 2...... and Audrey 3 - Threesie....
The first time I met Wednesday he was not "Wednesday" or "Joe" or "Joseph" he was "Audrey 3" his onstage female alter ego, and like Audrey 2, the plant, was known as "Two-sie" I jokingly called him "Threesie". I rang him, half expecting to get no answer, but he did pick up.
We spoke for a short while, I think he knew I just needed a friendly voice. After ten minutes or so the unmistakable bleeting signalling "call waiting" led us to say our goodbyes.
"Shit, sorry... I think that's my daughter, she's probably wondering why I'm not home."
"Ok well... you keep well, and remember you can call me anytime."
"Thanks. You too."
Suddenly "Hello" whoever it was lept in before I could say a word...
"Hi?"
"I...." silence. The single syllable had been choked out.
"Joey?"
More silence.
"I....need you with me, Veronica."
"Oh, Joey I can't I..."
"... Please. I need you. I don't know what to do."
I thought it through, trying to establish a way I could drop everything for him. It seemed impossible.
"Look... give me an hour... I do want to come... I just need to work some things out."
"Thank you." A dead line.
I flicked the TV off, locking the shop up again and making my way home, hating the fact I was stuck with my own thoughts for the journey back. The door swung open before my key reached the latch.
"Craig?"
"Mom.... Joey rang here." I entered the house as he coninued to speak. " I know we were harsh to you the other day, but we only did it because we care for you and he hurt you before and... listen, Jade and me know what happened, and we know that youre never going to forgive yourself if you don't go, so... this isn't for HIM, OK? It's for you. So you don't get upset."
"What are you talking about?"
"Jade's going to run the shop during the day and she can take me to school, and I can help at the shop at the weekends and... look.... if you don't go you'll never forgive yourself so... this is for you, not for him."
"I love you two so much. I can't think what I did to deserve you." I wrapped my hands around him. He was looking more like his father as the years moved by.
I could finally be there for him. I only wished it wasn't because of ... this.
The wall was out of focus, and the jovial tone of the film was out of place with my emotions. I had a lot to think about right now, and not only did I have to think about my future, but I was concerned about Joey now, too.
The smoke from the cigarette rose up infront of my face in a gentle plume and hung in the air around me, and I silently resolved that I would try to give up. It was more of a nervous habit than an addiction, but it was still an unhealthy one.
I stubbed the cigarette out and chucked it half heartedly into the overflowing ashtray which was next to the couch, standing up and going through to the shop to open up again after my short but necessary lunch break.
I smiled at a roup of young men as they entered the store, though my eyes robably betrayed the insincerity of the gesture.
"Can I help you at all?"
"Just seeing what you've got." I took this as permission to ignore them and get on with reshuffling the mess of fliers on the counter into some semblance of order. They left without making a purchase and I closed the shop 4 hours later without so much as another customer entering the store.
I locked the door with a heavy heart that night. I knew that the business couldn't last much longer, but I didn't know anything else. This job was my life, and it was the only freedom I had. To make matters worse my children loved to help me in the store to earn extra money - Craig especially. He probably expected me to hand the store over to him when he was old enough.
I felt a knot in my stomach - it seemed like I was betraying my father by giving up on the store, but there was nothing I could do. Downloads, and free music, had killed my shop years ago, I had been slipping downhill to the inevitable decision to close the shop down for a long time now.
My thoughts returned to the time I had spent at the shop with Joey back in the early nineties, and I suddenly remembered I had left the television on.
"Feed me, Seymour. Feed me."
I sank down onto the couch, head in hands. I didn't want to turn the television off - this place would seem dead if it was silent, and dark.
Like a prison, instead of my sanctuary. I suppose that is what it was. For all the happy times I had spent there, it was still my prison. With a job and a home here I wasn't free to move - without those certainties I would probably have moved my family away from here long ago.
I lit another cigarette, then remembering my resolution I left it to burn out on the side of the ashtray and pulled out my phone instead. Who would I call? Who could I call? I had no one... except Joey.
The film - it reminded me... Audrey, Audrey 2...... and Audrey 3 - Threesie....
The first time I met Wednesday he was not "Wednesday" or "Joe" or "Joseph" he was "Audrey 3" his onstage female alter ego, and like Audrey 2, the plant, was known as "Two-sie" I jokingly called him "Threesie". I rang him, half expecting to get no answer, but he did pick up.
We spoke for a short while, I think he knew I just needed a friendly voice. After ten minutes or so the unmistakable bleeting signalling "call waiting" led us to say our goodbyes.
"Shit, sorry... I think that's my daughter, she's probably wondering why I'm not home."
"Ok well... you keep well, and remember you can call me anytime."
"Thanks. You too."
Suddenly "Hello" whoever it was lept in before I could say a word...
"Hi?"
"I...." silence. The single syllable had been choked out.
"Joey?"
More silence.
"I....need you with me, Veronica."
"Oh, Joey I can't I..."
"... Please. I need you. I don't know what to do."
I thought it through, trying to establish a way I could drop everything for him. It seemed impossible.
"Look... give me an hour... I do want to come... I just need to work some things out."
"Thank you." A dead line.
I flicked the TV off, locking the shop up again and making my way home, hating the fact I was stuck with my own thoughts for the journey back. The door swung open before my key reached the latch.
"Craig?"
"Mom.... Joey rang here." I entered the house as he coninued to speak. " I know we were harsh to you the other day, but we only did it because we care for you and he hurt you before and... listen, Jade and me know what happened, and we know that youre never going to forgive yourself if you don't go, so... this isn't for HIM, OK? It's for you. So you don't get upset."
"What are you talking about?"
"Jade's going to run the shop during the day and she can take me to school, and I can help at the shop at the weekends and... look.... if you don't go you'll never forgive yourself so... this is for you, not for him."
"I love you two so much. I can't think what I did to deserve you." I wrapped my hands around him. He was looking more like his father as the years moved by.
I could finally be there for him. I only wished it wasn't because of ... this.