Enigma.
After The Glitter Fades.
Rowan woke up before the sun came up, and she couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. She tossed and turned until the first tinges of gold appeared on the horizon. She got out of bed and tiptoed past Poppy towards the kitchen.
At the moment, they shared a small messy bedroom. Two mattresses were pushed against either side of the wall, between them was a basket of clothes and random objects were scattered about. Poppy promised that it was a temporary situation, but Rowan didn’t mind it much. The first couple of nights she was there she had a hard time sleeping without the sound of nurses and orderlies pushing carts past her door. After two restless nights, and slowly becoming more comfortable with her current living situation, she found that she slept better in that small room with Poppy than she had slept in three years.
In the kitchen, she rummaged through the cupboards for something to cook for breakfast. Their cupboards mostly consisted of alcohol, instant noodles, and junk food, all of which would make for a heaping headache. She settled on instant noodles, prepared in Bourbon since their landlord, Clive, had turned off the water until they paid the other half of the rent, and a Twinkie. She’d chase that down with Vodka and call it a start on the day. It wasn’t a very satisfying breakfast, but it was all she had.
By the time she finished her breakfast, the sun had fully risen. She was aching to start the day, but knew she couldn’t until Poppy woke up. So, she read A Clockwork Orange for the next three hours. She was halfway through the book when Poppy stumbled into the kitchen. She went to the sink and tried to turn the faucet on. She lets out an agitated moan when the sink failed to release any water.
“Why does the arsehole always cut off our water?” Poppy’s Irish accent pierced the quiet.
“Because we’ve not paid the rent,” Rowan says blandly, trying to come out of her book induced trance and join Poppy in reality.
Another agitated moan escapes Poppy. Rowan could tell this was going to be one of those days in which Poppy acted like a whiny baby. Despite having been on her own for a year, Poppy wasn’t used to being broke.
“We haven’t got the money.”
“We had the money. But someone spent it all at SEX.”
“That’s what happened to my money, but what happened to the money you got paid for your first gig?”
Rowan sits up on the sofa and glares at Poppy.
“Let me see here,” she begins to tally up the expenses she had paid on her fingers, “I had to pay 30 pounds for the shit that you bought at SEX, then I spent 20 pounds on what little food we have, and then I had to give 50 pounds to pay half the rent to Clive so he wouldn’t throw us out! Which, by the way, we have to pay him the other half by Tuesday or else he’s going to throw us out on our arses!”
Poppy plops on the raggedy chair across the room, and presses her palm against her forehead.
“I am so fucking close to going back to Dublin,” she whines. “I can’t handle being broke anymore. Since I lost my job, life has been rough.”
“I know, but we’ll get through this. Sometimes it just happens. The band is picking up slowly, and maybe we’ll get a steady flow of money soon. Until we figure everything out, let’s not make any rash decisions.”
Rowan was trying to be positive, but it felt like Poppy was purposely trying to put a damper on her spirits. With the way things were right now, it was easier to be down than up. At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel that Poppy was being melodramatic and it was taking a ton of effort not to say so.
“Do you think I should try to get a job at SEX?”
“It’s worth a shot.”
At the moment, they shared a small messy bedroom. Two mattresses were pushed against either side of the wall, between them was a basket of clothes and random objects were scattered about. Poppy promised that it was a temporary situation, but Rowan didn’t mind it much. The first couple of nights she was there she had a hard time sleeping without the sound of nurses and orderlies pushing carts past her door. After two restless nights, and slowly becoming more comfortable with her current living situation, she found that she slept better in that small room with Poppy than she had slept in three years.
In the kitchen, she rummaged through the cupboards for something to cook for breakfast. Their cupboards mostly consisted of alcohol, instant noodles, and junk food, all of which would make for a heaping headache. She settled on instant noodles, prepared in Bourbon since their landlord, Clive, had turned off the water until they paid the other half of the rent, and a Twinkie. She’d chase that down with Vodka and call it a start on the day. It wasn’t a very satisfying breakfast, but it was all she had.
By the time she finished her breakfast, the sun had fully risen. She was aching to start the day, but knew she couldn’t until Poppy woke up. So, she read A Clockwork Orange for the next three hours. She was halfway through the book when Poppy stumbled into the kitchen. She went to the sink and tried to turn the faucet on. She lets out an agitated moan when the sink failed to release any water.
“Why does the arsehole always cut off our water?” Poppy’s Irish accent pierced the quiet.
“Because we’ve not paid the rent,” Rowan says blandly, trying to come out of her book induced trance and join Poppy in reality.
Another agitated moan escapes Poppy. Rowan could tell this was going to be one of those days in which Poppy acted like a whiny baby. Despite having been on her own for a year, Poppy wasn’t used to being broke.
“We haven’t got the money.”
“We had the money. But someone spent it all at SEX.”
“That’s what happened to my money, but what happened to the money you got paid for your first gig?”
Rowan sits up on the sofa and glares at Poppy.
“Let me see here,” she begins to tally up the expenses she had paid on her fingers, “I had to pay 30 pounds for the shit that you bought at SEX, then I spent 20 pounds on what little food we have, and then I had to give 50 pounds to pay half the rent to Clive so he wouldn’t throw us out! Which, by the way, we have to pay him the other half by Tuesday or else he’s going to throw us out on our arses!”
Poppy plops on the raggedy chair across the room, and presses her palm against her forehead.
“I am so fucking close to going back to Dublin,” she whines. “I can’t handle being broke anymore. Since I lost my job, life has been rough.”
“I know, but we’ll get through this. Sometimes it just happens. The band is picking up slowly, and maybe we’ll get a steady flow of money soon. Until we figure everything out, let’s not make any rash decisions.”
Rowan was trying to be positive, but it felt like Poppy was purposely trying to put a damper on her spirits. With the way things were right now, it was easier to be down than up. At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel that Poppy was being melodramatic and it was taking a ton of effort not to say so.
“Do you think I should try to get a job at SEX?”
“It’s worth a shot.”