Jennifer Hudson's Boring Little Life

Episode 8: Jennifer Hudson and the Times Forgotten

There are groves in the table.

There are patterns in the wood, Jennifer traces them lazily with her finger while laying on her arms. She's lost track of time, hidden in her small sanctuary, and all emotion in the process of replaying the events of the past few weeks in her mind. Which left her feeling numb and drained, utterly exhausted from the lack of sleep and crying.

Somewhere in between the sitting and the feeling of falling, Jennifer guesses she'd fallen asleep because no one could survive such a fall in real life.

Before quite realizing what had happened, Jennifer finds herself standing in front of her home. Looking around, she finds that there are no other people in the street, there are no cars either.

It's about mid-day and there are stars in the sky, but they quickly flicker out, as though someone had flipped a switch, and are replaced by rapidly moving clouds. They swirl and move, a blanket curving around the horizon.

Jennifer suddenly looks down; her shoes are undone. They must have undone themselves again. Jennifer bends down to quickly tie them before her laces can scamper away, like the last time. As she pulls the last knot tight the clouds suddenly fall from the sky, the sun is switched off, and for a good second Jennifer's left kneeling in the darkness before all the houses' glow to life.

"That's enough, Jennifer." She hears her father say and slowly nears the house. Inside she can see her younger self run through the sitting room and up the stairs. Her mother and father enter the room after she's disappeared, talking seriously to each other about their daughter's strange behavior.

Hidden by the fog, she watches the scene play out in a living room identical to her own, but for some reason she feels disconnected from the event entirely. Maybe she feels this way because she's replayed the scene so many times over that she's grown completely numb over time?

"My father, I thought I could trust him, I thought he'd believe me. But, like everyone else, he didn't. No matter how hard I tried, he didn't." Jennifer says.

"And when you wouldn't stop, he got mad." Angus says from beside Jennifer and she nods.

"Do your shoes undo themselves too?" Jennifer asks shamelessly, but, despite the intrusive question, he nods. Angus is her friend after all.

She pears into the house again and now there's a gold-wrapped birthday present on their coffee table, no one else in sight. The sun rises as young Jennifer slowly walks down the steps and takes a seat in front of her present on the floor.

"Happy fifth birthday." Angus says.

Her heart tugs in her chest as she watches five-year-old-Jennifer do nothing other than stare at the present, nothing other than pray for a different gift –pray for the gift of understanding.

On that day all she needed was someone, just one person, to understand her and for her to understand everyone else.

Next minute, Jennifer is sitting opposite her younger self, at the other side of the coffee table – a golden promise, a secret between them.

"This is why I've never liked my birthday," Jennifer says. "It was this moment, the moment I realized that the one thing I truly wanted could never be boxed and wrapped in gold paper. I didn't want ribbons or a pony or anything tangible, for that matter. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why. Why me? Why here? Why this place? There's nothing special to write about. I'm not a hero, I'm human. Am I to tragically descend into madness in this small town; knowing every face, knowing every name, knowing every corner and turn of every path? Am I a cautionary tale or a success story? Am I really the main character or am I just as insignificant to this story as every other piece of fiction that has ever been forgotten on a shelf? This, dear reader, was the promise I made – I promised to make my story unforgettable."