Tail

by Julian Duenker

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A brown chair, lacking that kind of personality, presented its comforting cushions to Susan. Dragging the tips of her boots, she threw herself without safety, landing herself crooked.

  Quiet and calm, she composed herself, binding her thighs to the almost furry texture of the cushions. It was the most enjoyable moment of the day. Looking at her boots she threw the concept of time out the window. Before she knew it Mr Black had crawled up on her, accompanied by drums signalling his tremendous entrance into her night. He banged and danced, frolicking about with his darkly shaded feathers trying to fondle her attention, but she ignored him completely, not noticing entirely that it was sleepy time.

  Next step get home, she thought to herself. Nearing her way up to the window she looked past all the crumbled leaves and saw her car waiting idly for her. Pressing the tip of her nose against the glass she felt that cold seatbelt grip across her chest. She didn’t trust herself to drive, was the excuse she used to not get back in the car. Step backwards for her.

  Flicking through her sparse contact list on her tiny black touch screen phone, she hovered her thumb over Mathew, his number, his ride home and his car. So she called for the lift, the hand, the adoring ear she quietly wished would latch onto her quivering lips.

  After a few wrong turns and bleak corners Mathew reached Kevin’s house where Susan was at. When he heard her voice over the phone, a few strands of that sweet sweat crawled up his nostrils, filling his chest with an inch of warmth, it all culminated to a faster pace of driving. A smelly motivation so to speak.

  The area was dark causing him difficulty finding a place to park his car. He stepped out of the car and curled his jacket inwards fleeing to Kevin’s house.

  Now remember this place was dark. Not much was to be seen apart from bulky shafted trees flinging their buckets of leaves across the calm wind. When Mathew walked in he stepped on a tiny bed of yellow flowers crushing their frame and dirtying their mattress. He felt the slight crunch beneath his navy leathers.

  The knock of the door woke Susan up from her slept state. Breaking her eyelids open with a dusty crunch she waddled over to the front door warming her armpits with the white jumper that was underneath her jacket. Hello followed by a kiss, all was good. There was slight hesitation with her sleep depraved state to leave the house, making Mathew think he was supposed to come in. Realising that she was too tired to think or move he grabbed her by the elbow and coaxed her out with a gentle whisper.

  The lights from the interior of his car flashed on with harsh shades of cream. It was that kind of generic wealth with all those lights and wheels. Some really fancy shit.

  Susan composed herself in the passenger side wriggling her ass until she was comfortable. He knew from her voice that she was in need of a listener, but knowing from experience he would have to ask the first question to give the impression that he was interested.

  “What happened between you two? I don’t think I have ever seen you like this before.” he said drifting his car quietly through the damp roads back to Susan’s place. She turned in her seat finding a new spot to look at outside the window.

  “I think he wants to be in danger… building a little fort for himself to pass away in without anyone noticing... he has heart problems and one day it will all be very serious. I’m afraid he wants it.” She said with broken breath. “Genuinely mean no offense, but he sounds like a selfish prick. If you are all he has in his life then why is he acting this way?”

  “…It scares me. I don’t want to be alone.” She said painting her exhausted expression up against the glass of the window. Lots and lots of colourful and distracting lights taunted her boots, singing little tunes of lullabies to their loosening laces. The words slipped out of her mouth effortlessly, resting their letters on her bottom lip, making it feel heavy. It was difficult enough to keep her eyes open and now she had to work with her mouth.

  “Sometimes I feel as if I’m walking on rocks when I’m around him. Sharp, sore rocks, the pointy ones… I just wish the world was made out of pillows you know. The pavements, roads and floors, everything made out of soft cushions and pillows. Maybe even a few blankets. Why not. That’s what I’d like, just to wake up in the morning and every step that I take to be held up by layers and layers of fabric.” Her view at that point had entirely left the vehicle and hung itself from outside the window soaking in all the insane colours that passed. Her exhausted expression had returned back to a residual smile. It was all she had left on offer really. “That’s what I dream of sometimes but then I realize how unrealistic it is. Like all people would ever do would be fall over, all the time. Then travel, how is travel going to work? We would be locked away to our small communities guarded by a landscape made out of soft pillows.”

  “Well I like to think that we would adapt. You know, after walking on pillows for a generation I think we would get used to it. Just copy their parents from childhood on how to walk on soft ground... all would be good. Softer feet... No more of those foot callous scratcher ads on TV.” He said with a drunken smile which he threw to Susan. It was possibly the first time they had looked at each other in the car. Very romantic, with hardened light dashing through the windows. He was happy to bring her home, happy to once more remind himself of the old food orgy that fondled itself on the counter in her flat. Filthy love.

  “Actually that reminds me of a shoot I did once with… this girl. The whole gimmick of the shoot was about pillows, pillow fight essentially. I had only planned to waste a couple of hours on it, but we turned out to spend the entire day on the set. I mean the photos didn’t turn out to be phenomenal or anything, but it was one of the best shoots I’ve ever taken part in. We reached the point where I joined in and started to take the phots on… like… the big blanket that was stretched out over the floor. Couldn’t take a single photo you know. Shaky. Steff’s idea.” He said cooling down his movements until he was almost sleeping in his chair. Even though his body eased into the leathery seats of the car his eyes were plastered to the windscreen avoiding memories that appeared on the road in front. Susan angled herself to look at him. There and then she saw Mathew clearly. “How long have you known Steff? I don’t know why you bother dealing with him. He seems like a pure fucking pain.”

  “I was young when I first met him, still cursed by wet behind the ear syndrome. Respect him. That’s hard to do considering how much he likes to antagonise people. I suppose… he presented me an opportunity on a silver platter. I can’t help but thank him and Josey for that.” He said as he watered his eyes with private rain. She said silence. Hearing that, he turned to look at her sympathetic expression. She didn’t know why she was sympathetic, but it was the only emotion that hadn’t fallen asleep.

  “That’s it really... I don’t think the people that we care about are designed to be clean… almost. The mere fact that we care about them means that we are making our selves vulnerable to difficult stuff. Hard, sore stuff, like rocks and the concrete ground we walk on every day. Maybe that’s why your dream hasn’t come true yet, because people care about people too much.” He said with dribbles of laughter.

  “Then that means I have to choose between having loved ones or a world where I can walk on pillows. Tough. I think I might just tape some cushions to my feet instead.” Susan said turning her head once more to the film of surreal lights that played outside her window. Then the orchestra of shades faded as she recognised the pavement, signalling to her that her home was near. The idea of her bed excited her a slight. As her eyes slipped to exhaustion a faint clothy touch caressed up the palm of her right hand. It was her bed, she felt its ruffled pattern. She gripped her hand wrapping the folds between her fingers. It was comfort, bought warmth, temporary help, and all things she had and needed that night. Opening her eyes she saw Mathew gleefully staring down her arm as she hooked her fingers onto the elbow of his jacket. Reactionary embarrassment pulled her hand back to her chest. At least it made him feel good, further unfolding the c
lear adoration that he held for her.

  A feel good draft, happy wind flew past them as they inched into her flat. At that point she wasn’t breathing air, but rather the cloth binds of her bed. Mathew stood in the flat once more. Joy for him, a frolicking sense of ecstasy, new to his range of emotions. That’s pretty much why he enjoyed going to her place every time. The wet crusted counters and blackly spotted curtains accentuated Susan’s nude legs. Of course he wouldn’t ever tell her that. Don’t think anyone would react positively to being compared to a filthy cushion. Not exactly romantic, but somehow it left a filthy smudge across the carpet under his scalp which he refused to wipe away.

  The light from her room burst open allowing her to see her own legs. As she attempted to remove her boots Mathew went over to say goodnight. Struggling to remove her leathery weights, he leaned down and helped her undress. She didn’t resist, making it clear from the get go that sleep was her goal and that she was too tired for the twisting of the meat. No words were said allowing his calm breath to fill the space. A soft kiss on the forehead and everything fluffy comfy with unicorns poured across her face. Nothing left to do, only home to go to.

  Switching the light off, he walked out of her room and hovered for a moment in the sitting/kitchen room. It was pitch black refusing to allow noise or shadows to exist. All he thought about was the next time he would see her. Cute no?