Tatted

EARLY MORNING, LATE NEWS

"Walls have ears. Doors have eyes. Trees have voices. Beasts tell lies. Beware the rain. Beware the snow. Beware the man you think you know."

*****

I groaned internally.

"I think you took it the wrong way. That was a one time thing." I sighed.

A pause.

"I know, but i really like you Gia."

I shut my eyes and wish for him to just quit it and hang up. "You can't like me." My voice is unexpectedly aggressive.

I've had enough of this shit recently. The ugliness, the chaos, the heartbreak- it's all too much. The sudden change in my tone shows exactly how I don't appreciate this being added onto the pile of things I wish never happened.

"Why not?" Max's voice resounds through the empty room.

On the kitchen counter, I lean on my elbows. My head in one hand while the other fidgets with a random pen. My leg is bouncing up and down, not from anxiety, but from frustration.

"Because I'm getting married, Max." I deadpan.

I can hear the apology in his voice. "Oh,"

"Yeah, so maybe it's best if you just stay away."

I stand up from the stool and make a short trip to the cupboard. On my tiptoes, I reach a bottle of wine and pull it down towards me. Pouring a glass- that I hope is my first and last one- and chugging it in only a few gulps.

"I'm really sorry, Gia. I won't bother you again." His voice is flat with disappointment.

"You're fine. Its my fault for letting you."

I hear him sigh. "Alright," I can practically see his embarrassed expression on the other side of the call. "I have to go, nice talking to you." But it wasn't nice at all.

The call ends and I find myself pouring another glass without thinking.

Its pretty early in the morning and the fact that I'm gulping down glass after glass of wine should be enough to tell how messed up my life has been recently.

I had forgotten that my parents were here. When I saw my mother walk down the stairs sleepily I was glad that my parents were not morning people, because my call with Max might've started another thing which I do not want on my pile of unwanted experiences.

"Good morning, Gia. You're up early." Her voice is still pitched with sleep.

I'm not a morning person either but today was different. Today I woke up with an energy I hadn't felt in a long time; a desire to actually do something, instead of sitting around wishing death upon myself and anyone who ever hurt me.

Mom slides onto a stool and raises an eyebrow at the almost empty bottle of wine.

It was pretty full when I started.

I was embarrassed and quickly picked the bottle up, stuffing it into the back of the cabinet.

"What's with you today? Drinking this early?" She questions. Her stare is pitiful. But just so it's clear, I am actually pretty okay today.

So what is this sudden urge to drink? And wine? What is wrong with me?

When those dirt encrusted boots step into the house my questions are answered. He is what is wrong with me.

"Micheal. Can you please clean your shoes? Or at least clean the floor." I speak.

The wine must've already got to my head because there is no way in hell I would ever talk to Micheal like that.