Symptoms of Life

“Fuck,” I shrieked, tripping out the front door, and down the porch stairs into a nearby flower bread. The bottle of gin remained safely in my arms as I hit the frozen ground on my side. The snow engulfed me, and I found myself staring up at the stars.

Popping the bottle open I sat up to chug a bit back. With any luck Wes and Liesl would forget all about me and find someone else to bother. I didn’t even care as my head swung back into the snow.

The cold was mild, and as my clothes got wetter I didn’t find myself caring anymore or less. The bass was dull and muffled outside and the gossip of my new found peers wasn’t audible. It was as peaceful as the entire move had gotten.

I hummed lowly to the music, my eyes fluttered close after another long gulp of gin. For once, it felt like I could be miserable, alone, and myself.

I wouldn’t of ever defined Florence Todd as an extrovert. When I wasn’t at practice or stuck at some ad campaign, I was usually wrapped up in a large pair of sweatpants, my favourite stuffed animal, and Netflix. It was for the quiet, always, for the quiet.

Lying down I could feel my cell phone digging into my boob and I quickly removed it from my bra. Maybe I could just leave it in the snow, but my heart caught on all the unopened text messages, and my fingers were sprawling across the glass quicker than lightening.

A door slammed shut, and I could hear the shuffling of feet up the icy walk. They sounded like they were tripping and a part of me laughed quietly. I laid still though, hoping to God that no one would notice my existence until the front door closed and it was safe to finish the rest of my bottle.

“Miss Todd.” Raising my eyes I found myself staring at none other than Mr. Hughes.

“Are you fuckin’ everywhere?” I groaned, slipping back down into my cover of snow, “And it’s fuckin’ Florence.”

“Alright, fuckin’ Florence,” he mocked and I could hear him getting comfy somewhere nearby, “what on Earth are you doing?”

The word ‘escaping’ bubbled out of my mouth thoughtlessly, as I closed my eyes and tried to slip back into my own sanctuary.

Mr. Hughes laughed though, like he always fuckin’ did. “Would you like to do a better job at it?”

I barfed up the word ‘yes’ almost instantaneously and without another word I’d scrambled up to my feet and was clinging onto him for dear life as we made the way down the interlock driveway to his car.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked, as he shut the driver’s side door and started up the engine. He wasn’t wearing his usual black pants and button up shirt, instead he wore an old ripped pair of jeans and some band’s sweatshirt.

“I volunteer with a service that drives drunk people home,” he replied reaching across the car to buckle my seatbelt. His fingers brushed over my body and I wrote the rising heat on my cheeks off to the alcohol, “and outside of school, it’s Graham to you.”

“That’s a good service,” I replied hearing my voice rise up a couple octaves and my eyes pricking a bit.

“Yeah,” Graham replied, reversing down the driveway, and making his way down to the end of the street, “so what do you want to do?” He asked, his hands flicking some buttons on the dash before returning to grip the stick shift.

“Icecream.” I replied easily, relaxing back into the seat that was quickly heating up. My fingers tightened over the aged leather apholstery, as we came to a stop at the street’s end.

“It’s two in the morning, negative fifteen degrees, you’re wearing a wet sweater, and you want icecream?” He asked incredulously. I almost laughed, his eyes were wide with shock and his angular jaw had laxed.

I nodded my head though, and the car was filled with the mixed tunes of the radio and random laughter fits from me as he drove slowly over the crisp icy streets. Within ten minutes, the car was parked infront of a McDonalds, and Graham was digging in the back seat for something.

“Here,” he replied, throwing a sweatshirt and sweatpants into my lap, “I keep extra clothes in case people barf on me.”

“Ew.” I muttered, and Graham leans against the car, facing away to give me some privacy. I slip off Leisl’s sweater and bra, before throwing the oversized sweatshirt of my head. The jean’s are harder to deal with, their stuck to my skin, and I rock all around the car trying to get them back down and over Leggy.

With a huff I give up, and zip the pants back up before rolling out of the car. “I can’t get my pants off.” I shrug at Graham’s bemused expression before making a beeline for the restaurant door.

“Did you actually drink that entire bottle?” He laughs watching as I walk, attempting to keep in line with the marking spaces for the parking spots.

“Yes,” I grit out and he holds the door open for me to the fast food palace, “vanilla,” I tell him as he steps up to the counter, I’m a bit dazed, but I can make out the cashier’s snippy remark.

“It’s winter, so it’s no inservice.” He grunts eyeing the two of us.

“Do you want something else?” Graham asks, turning around to face me.

“No,” I shrug, and in seconds he’s got an arm around my shoulder and we’re wandering back to the car. It’s starting to snow again, but the snow in Kelowna is much wetter than the snow in Quebec. The snow back home was more like ice, it would fall hard on your head and not float quiet as nicely.

“To Walmart,” Graham grins, keying the engine to his car again.

I could hear myself giggling and laughing at basically nothing, every pothole or red light they were the best thing in the world. I couldn’t remember sitting through a car ride with my eyes open and really it was terrifying.

With the liquid courage in my bloodstream I swindled my way up to the automatic doors.

“Go change,” Graham commanded, shoving me and his sweatpants towards the public restroom, “you’ll get sick.”

With an eye roll I go into the bathroom, not sparing a glance in the mirror. Pulling my jeans down to my knees I sat down on the toilet, struggling to free Leggy. The mechanical limb taunts me as I pull it free. I can’t look at it though as I pull the other pair of pants over it. Standing successfully I lean back on the wall of the stall, my breath stills and the dizziness fades for a couple seconds. The couple of seconds is all that I need to realize that it was the first night I hadn’t thought of how much it hurt.

It was in the back of my mind, the pain, I could steel feel it, but it sat like a kid in the back of the classroom where no one would call on it or pay attention to its behavior. Other feelings sat at the forefront, and striding out of the bathroom I hope to leave them behind.

“Careful,” Graham grins, catching me as I falter slightly, he’s already walking towards the frozen goods section, mostly dragging me behind him, “what flavor?” He grins, his smile sitting in its usual lopsided position.

“Umm,” I wonder watching myself on the freshly mopped floors as we explore the isle, “mint chip! Classic,” I smile, opening the door as fast as I can and whipping out a liter of bright green heaven. I slide my way back across the linoleum floor, never bothering to lift my soaking wet Uggs.

“Good choice,” Graham mutters, and I’m soon following him back to the self-checkout. He swipes his card over the pin pad, and we’re back in the snow only minutes later.

He holds the door open for me to his car, and reclines the seat so I’m almost lying down. He’s in the drivers seat seconds later, with his seat reclined, and his hands searching the glove box.

“Spoons!” Graham grins, victorious at last, as he hands me the plastic weapon and I rip open the cardboard box.

“Oh my lanta,” I moan shoving the biggest spoonful of my life into my mouth. Usually when I ate icecream there was a scrupulous process of licking the spoon, but tonight was not the case, “I can’t even tell you the last time I got to eat icecream.”

“Why?” Graham asks, shoving his spoon deep into the box, and pulling out a mountain of green ice cream littered with chocolate chips.

“Dr. Todd won’t let me eat it,” I shrug, stealing his spoon out of his hand and shoving it into my mouth as well, “I’m allergic,” I add, my mouth overly full with dessert.

Graham’s jaw drops, and a new gargle of laughs is falling out of my mouth, “you tell me this now?”

Shrugging, the car falls silent as we dig into the late night delicacy in the middle of the empty-ass Walmart parking lot. I can feel my face glowing red, and my blood stream feels like boiling water moving throughout me, but I’m finally relaxed and staring out the windows of his ratty-ass sedan at the rest of the world.

The moon is orange, but the stars are still bright. A few satelites whirl around us, but that’s just it. We’re alone.

“Why do you live with him?” Graham asks, pulling us from silence just as he steals the last drop of icecream and spoons it into my mouth, he takes the spoons and shoves them in the empty box before ditching it into the waste-land that is the back of his car.

The Gin was clearly still sitting heavily inside me, and I was still utterly carefree, because I answered without a tear or a wince.

“My mother died, and my grandparents are in a nursing home.” I fidget with my hair though, there’s chocolate chips and icecream melting in my split ends.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I sighed, rolling onto my side to face him, “I’m sorry enough for all of us.”

The car’s silent when he reaches across the help pull some of the icecream out my hairstyle Liesl had worked so hard on.

“Do you want me to take you back there?”

“Fuck no.”