Content warning, highlight the hidden text between the lines:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Descriptions of injuries
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She hadn’t felt this bad in years.
Alicia awoke to a world awash in pain. She felt like she lost a fight. In a way, she had, albeit without an opponent. Thankfully, she slept on her front, since everything from the nape of her neck to her tailbone felt like it had been worked over with a baseball bat. Both arms and shoulders were stiff and heavy. Alicia hoped that she and the back of her neck could still be friends. She was still in her workout clothes, and judging from the unusual brightness, the lamp by the bedroom door was still on. As her vision cleared, she could now see the weight set clearly, just laying there, immovable. Same.
Alicia hoped she wasn’t late for work, although at present she didn’t see the rush. The aspiring wrestler grappled with the concept of movement as a dozen wounded spots tried to convince her to stay down. For as much pain as she was in, Alicia knew she would discover more and worse as soon as she stood up.
When she pushed up from the bed, pain points lit up on her upper back, lower spine, two spots on her right shoulder, both kidneys, back of her left hip, and her whole entire neck, all at once shouting "MEMEMEMEMEMEME!!" far too loud to ignore. Her feet descended tentatively to the floor. It wasn’t graceful, but at least she was upright. To Alicia’s surprise, getting around was easier than expected, if only slightly. Her calves and feet escaped last night mostly unscathed, as had her knees. She sighed. There went the excuse to stay home. No getting out of it: ambulatory people have to go to work.
She groped open her closet door and found a red blouse and a skirt she was pretty sure she hadn’t worn in a while. Would anyone say something if I just showed up to work in my gym clothes? A tiny part of her wanted to find out, just to watch the conniption fit unfold. Satisfying as it would be, she needed the job. She perched herself on the edge of a financial knife by using the car repair money for something else. Hard Times, indeed.
The staircase loomed in the way slasher villains do. First step’s the toughest, Alicia told herself as she took a deep breath and exhaled suddenly and sharply as pain shot through her thigh and hip. It was a good start–better than expected, at least. She willed herself to push through it.
Alicia soon realized the second step was actually tougher than the first. Predictably, the third presented a greater challenge than either of the previous two. The rest of the steps followed on accordingly, incrementally increasing in toughness as per the established pattern.
"Hhhnnnggghhnnhhnaaahnnnn," said Alicia, amending her spurious claim re: stair toughness.
With significant assistance from the handrail, she eventually summited the staircase, walked 20 feet down the hall and returned to civilization. She basked under the warm welcome back.
Now dressed and somewhat refreshed, she started to come to terms with the day as inevitable and unwilling to compromise. It was Friday. Alicia tried to remember what happened at the office on Fridays. Water jug delivery. Right. She slid the chain lock open and shuffled gingerly into the kitchen. Robert sat at the card table with a cereal bowl in front of him. Whatever he was eating had turned the milk purple.
She threw him a polite little wave as she limped through her morning routine. "Morning, Robert." On a second glance, the milk might not have been purple, exactly. A thin, greasy film floated on the surface looking like an oil slick. "Jeepers creepers! What is that stuff?"
His chubby face lit up with delight. "Remember Mondoz? The cereal Mondoz? You can import it!"
The name sounded familiar. "The cereal that gave people heart attacks?"
"It was like four kids, and they all lived," Robert helpfully explained. "Plus, fingers crossed, I'm pretty sure they took out that ingredient."
Alicia finished preparing a protein shake and screwed the lid on the container. Looking at her assembled lunch reminded her of the lunchbox she left in the car last night. Hopefully, today would finally be the day she enjoyed carrying a lot of things in her arms at once. She looked at her breakfast of cottage cheese and a banana, then back at the bowl of colorful sludge on the table. "Doggone it, Robert! Now I can't stop thinking about it," Alicia said, authentically fake-mad. "Can I try some?"
Her housemate gestured for her to go ahead. Alicia looked inside the technicolor box to find cereal shaped like purple sea urchins. Tiny handful. Razors. Sugar razors. Tooth-blasting, eye-watering sweetness and an overpowering aftertaste of one part strawberries and raspberries to about 20 parts sugar force-fed through a fire hose.
"No. Mm-mm. Uh-uh," she looked at the ingredients on the box. "This is a cry for help. Tell me: is there a safe place you can go? Is there somebody I can call? You don't have to do this to yourself. I feel like an accessory just standing here watching."
His red lips curled in a smile that lit up his entire face. "It's not to everyone's liking. I prefer the kind with cake frosting, but they haven't made that since '01." His mood shifted when Alicia groaned while trying to reach a cabinet above the sink. "Are you alright? You look… bad. You look bad, Alicia," he said, watching his ailing housemate straining to lift her arm above her shoulders to paw the cabinet open and fumble the cap off the ibuprofen.
It was meant as a joke, but Alicia still didn't appreciate the comment, and she wasn't in the mood. "Hey." She shot Robert a look that made him straighten up in his chair. Alicia explained, "I had a really rough workout last night. I just pushed myself really hard, I guess." She thought about telling him more. It could wait. She had something else to discuss, anyway. Now was as good a time as any, since the humor had drained from the moment. "Sorry, I've been meaning to ask, but could you not bring in my mail? I appreciate the thought, but, I don't know, I think I should."
"You don't mind it stacking up?" asked Robert, taking another bite.
"It doesn't stack up," Alicia said dismissively, swallowing two ibuprofens dry.
"Sorry… it kind of does. I left your mail alone the first four days I was here. Just saying. Sorry," he apology-corrected.
Alicia tried to recall the last time she had checked the mailbox. "I guess I don't get over to that side of the house as often. I take your point."
Robert was still trying to make peace. "I don't blame you. I went to pick it up yesterday afternoon before work, opened the mailbox door, and--not kidding--a wolf spider big as my palm crawls up on top of the box and looks at me like I'm the one who should leave."
In the grand scheme of things, it was just a few letters. Mostly junk, anyway. Alicia reconsidered her stance. "Please continue bringing in my mail."
"Suit yourself," Robert said with a shrug. "I'm sure Ralph would love to meet you."
Alicia smirked as she turned to robotically swipe at her dishes with her ruined arms, using soap. "What makes you think it's a boy?"
"The extra protrusions by the mandibles." A grin spread across Robert's face. "Besides, where else would a mail spider live?"
"You're lucky I can't move."
No comments:
Post a Comment