The Nothing
Moire, Jade and Pella
At 4am in Moire's apartment, she stirred and then felt hair on the back of her
neck rise and warmth in her sides.
Turning over, light turned her eyelids pink.
She opened one eye cautiously and saw the moonlight filter through her
window and fall on her basketball.
Paying it little heed, Moire turned over and went back to sleep.
Jade's place, just next door, was littered with magazines, tarot cards and moon
symbols stuck to her fridge, covering her duvet and cushions. A huge Mexico
poster hung over the fireplace. Cancun in big white letters.
Whe n the moon flooded through her win dow she was asleep on the sofa, an old
movie still playing on the video. It filled the dim room with light and awoke so
sharply she fell off the chair.
Her inflatable crucifix shone in the natural spotlight.
Pella was lying on the floor of the kitchen when la luna's glow filtered through
the window and lit up a single white egg.
Rice was spilled across the linoleum, her blood flooded the floor and congealed
with the grains. She had three red lines across her wrist.
The Morning After
Jade sat by the window staring at a sliver of cloud threading past the sun. Her
CD player booted U2 into the air and she slipped down the wall to rest against a
cabinet.
She brushed stray hair from her eyes and lay down on the plush carpet to stare
at the ceiling.
Hopelessness intervened.
Jade hated it but didn't know what to do. The place was a mess and she was
broke as usual. There must be something which would take away the
blues.
So she started cleaning.
Light switches, hand held hoover handle, microwave, TV. Dust was obliterated
from her apartment which made her feel better.
She sat down after half an hour exhausted but felt better. Jade decided to ring a
few people and see what they were up to. Cally and Pete were engaged, Jenna
and Sal had their answer phone on and her mother was in Brazil on business.
She hadn't seen her dad in years so that ruled him out and her brother was
always partying so she didn't bother trying him.
Instead she fished around in the freezer, found a chicken curry, popped it in the
microwave and decided to watch that for four minutes.
It tasted good. Jade hadn't eaten in a while and her stomach was aching for
food.
The blues were turning a rosier hue as Jade slipped a game into her console
and sat down to play.
"Screw 'em all," she smiled half heartedly, guiding her character round a series
of mazes.
The drone of police sirens outside somewhere in the distance. Babies crying on
the floor above but she ignored them all. Shut out the bad thoughts in her head
and made way for some good ones.
Pella sat in her room crying, but didn't know why. Red should be happy. This
was her wedding day. Yet, as she sat on the bed and drew the veil across her
face, there was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was definitely
doing the wrong thing.
"Pella, you okay love?" came Moire's voice but Red ignored it and stared down
at the book cover. The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe was well thumbed and
the crude illustration on the front had faded with time. She ran her finger along
the spine and sighed.
Removing the veil, Pella walked to the door and pressed her forehead again the
wood. It was cool against her fevered skin.
"I'm fine," she lied.
But of course she was far from it. Her wedding day and she had serious
doubts.
No hen night for her. No drunken exchanges with old friends. Instead a void.
Loads of TV and enough white wine to make a rhino keel over.
She drew for a while, painted a bit, smoked two packets of cigarettes and went
through her photo album regarding the mass of smiling faces.
It filled her with hope and she turned on the TV to watch the news channel.
Bombing, suicide and enough scenes of carnage to make her want to cry.
Pella turned off the box and flipped on the radio while she looked through her
Mexican cookbook absent mindedly.
The clock was ever present as Red thought about her future and the possible
mistake she was about to make.
Did she really want to get married? At her age?
Most of her friends had tied the knot and she was glad for them but for her it
didn't feel right. A strange, hollow experience.
Almost a lie.
Pella took a shot of whisky and filled the glass with coke as she looked over the
balcony and observed the city below. The place was busy as ever. Binmen in
luminous jackets milled around in the streets. Kids played football, whooping
like they were playing for their lives. An old woman made her way up the hill to
the deli and she saw a procession of women carrying banners with a series of
stars on black cloth.
End of the world is nigh.
That made her feel better. The Star Cult, doom-laden prophets of the new
millennium. Starting early.
Maybe she could join them. That would be a laugh. Shave her head, wear black
and moan a lot. Would be too much like being a student again, she
thought.
Pella grabbed her wedding veil and slipped it over her head then looked at
herself in the mirror.
"What the hell?" she said.
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