Keys of Life

Chapter Fourteen: Faye

Merry Xmas all!

This is dedicated to idiotcraziness.

(Sorry, published it before I hit the 'dedicate to' link.) As this is a double-publishing day, I believe you owe me a Yazoo. Think about a recent conversation...Nah, just joking. Maybe.

Hope to hear from you soon... 

That was actually quite long. Hmm.

Chapter Fourteen: Faye

   A day had gone by. School was over, and I had done everything I was supposed to do, cleaning and cooking and reading so that I didn't have to think about anything except how much flour was in the cupboard and whether or not we had kitchen roll. It was like I was a machine, putting no feeling into the words I was saying or the jobs I had been given. I had switched off the emotions that were crying out to be heard, watching my life through someone else's eyes   

   Then the fire alarm went off. The sudden clamour woke me up, the sheer volume of sound ricocheting off the walls and reverberating through my being. My entire body twitched, the loud noise penetrating every barrier I had ever put up. I sat like that for a few seconds, stunned, every nerve in my body tensed and screaming in protest, to the point of physical pain. I leapt from my chair, ran to the kitchen and opened the door of the oven. My eyes stung as they were greeted by a black billow of smoke. Choking on the stench, I grabbed a pair of oven mitts and fought through the dark cloud, fumbling in the cooker for the latest batch of cupcakes. I could hear movement behind me, but I didn't dare to turn to see what it was. I was entirely focussed on the task at hand. Pulling the tray out, I dumped it on the breadboard, throwing open all the windows as I let out a hacking cough. The tears streamed down my face, the drops of salty water mingling with the malevolent smouldering of the cupcakes. I turned to face the entity that had been watching while I whirled into action.  

   Keenan appeared in front of me, his unmistakable presence continuing the fight to tame the chaos. He turned off the oven, closed the door, and waved the tea towel at the smoke alarm. He rested against the counter, glaring, watching me as I sobbed. After a minute, he relented, pulling me close in a comforting hug.

   "Shh," he soothed, his fingers rubbing circles in my scalp. "It's just some burnt food. You're okay, I'm fine, the cupcakes aren't exactly healthy, but that's not the point. What were you thinking?" I couldn't answer, concentrating all of my presence of mind on controlling the gasps rolling from my mouth.

   We stayed like that for a few minutes, me pretending that he was my brother, that everything was normal and fine. I couldn't lie to myself though, flashes of memories breaking through the borders of my mind, picking holes in my defences. I forced them back, gradually allowing myself to become Faye again, becoming more than just a host for past moments and increasingly large amounts of worry and negative emotions. I was back to normal. Speaking in relative terms, that is.  

   "I'm sorry. I just forgot about it...I could have sworn they weren't in there that long." Keenan sighed, letting me go once he had established I could talk.

   "Faye, what's wrong? You've barely said a word for the past two days." It was the perfect chance to confess, to spill everything I was feeling into his soul. He eyes were pleading with me to tell him what I desperately needed to unload, wanted to pour out of my system and let the burden rest on the shoulders of someone else. I tentatively reached for the words I needed.

   "I haven't been feeling well. That's all." Keenan threw me a sceptical look over his shoulder as he turned away. I didn't need to talk to someone, or to bring someone else into this mixed up scenario. He couldn't help me feel better, because there were things I was feeling he couldn't dream of understanding.

   It was getting closer and closer to my meeting with Autumn. I felt like smashing up my computer and breaking the phone, just so that I wouldn't be able to contact her in a few days time. I had told myself over and over that I needed this, and yet I was still unconvinced. It was like an injection that had been scheduled a month in advance. I knew I had to do it, but I was dreading the minutes I would spend in the practice, the days creeping past with the heaving settling of trepidation. I had started this. I wished I hadn't.

   School was just another thing to drag me closer to misery. No one spoke to me, even the teacher's eyes glazed over my seat. It was an exercise in self-containment, in how long I could spend in my own company before I wanted to scream. Nagging thoughts demanded to be heard, the constant clattering noise marching like a band through the processes of my brain. Little whispers in my ear murmured that if I couldn't stand a few hours by myself, how would I manage the rest of my life? All the while, my own loneliness was gnawing at my insides, siphoning away slivers of my personality.

  Home was a reprieve, the bumbling of another person in the house soothing the ragged edges in my mind. The fresh waves of air wafted through the house, chasing away the unease shrouding my body. It hadn't been like this for the past year. I had never felt these extremes in my life. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of water over me, snapping me out of a comfortable trance. I saw everything, felt everything, as if someone had given me a new sense to appreciate the world. What I saw wasn't always beautiful, and what I felt was certainly not contentment. I knew now that I was just coasting through life on a black wave of emotion, blindly trusting that the water would clear. I wished I hadn't. 

   I slinked up the stairs to my room, the faint aroma of burning following me like the sound of my footsteps. Sighing, I logged onto my laptop, glancing quickly at the screensaver that popped into view. The weather was dull, a thick, rolling cloud coating the sky in a matt greyish-purple. I didn't need to look at the weather channel to know that leaving the house without an umbrella wouldn't exactly be the wisest idea I'd ever had.

   I trolled through the usual fashion blogs I frequented, cursorily scanning through the pictures and opinions. Style had somehow managed to become mistaken for wearing the latest trends. Fashion was worshiped as a ruling dictator. So many people scoured the shops in a race to be the first up to date, the envy of their peers and a style icon for all us mortals. It was a battle to the death, ruthlessly marking out the losers. I didn't work that way, couldn't live in that endless race to run in circles, watching every statement piece fade and then come back into favour fifty years later.

   Fashion should be played with. The only way to look good was not to care if you did. I don't mean taking up bad hygiene practices and wearing things your mother would have shunned as out-dated in her day. You had to figure out what worked for you, what suited you and what made you look fabulous. Clothes were about how you felt, almost more than what you saw in the mirror. A simple pair of thigh-high boots is a classic example. Worn with jeans, they can become a quirky fashion symbol. Of course, they can look like something dragged out of the set of Pretty Woman.

   The latest clothes off the catwalk couldn't be broken down into a set of 'do's' and 'don'ts'.  That was what nobody seemed to see. They were just the newest sparks of ideas, a revolution of things born out of seeds of inspiration. That was the essence of style.

   Half an hour later, I logged off again, restless. I had just snapped out of my bad mood, the black cloud dispersing above my head far more quickly than the one outside my window. Thick puddles of moisture started to drop from the clouds, landing with a splat against the clear glass of the windowpane. Not bothering to put on a coat, or grab an umbrella, quietly thanking my subconscious for forgetting to take off my shoes, I pounded downstairs and out the back door. My feet tapped out a jazz dance, my hands responding to a virtual black cane and bowler hat. I could feel the rain seeping through my clothes, drenching my skin and soaking my hair. I didn't care. I just continued to move, singing snippets of songs I half-knew.

   At some stage the music changed from being made up tunes, to real, blasting notes coming from the stereo. Glancing around from my wet stage, I watched as Keenan joined me, dancing fluidly to the music.

   I have no clue how long we stayed there for, oblivious to the sniggers from the neighbours or complaints about the noise. Time seemed irrelevant, something that didn't matter because this little piece of ground was frozen, continuing into eternity. Half the time I wasn't even sure where Keenan had gone, just that he had to be around somewhere. All I felt was the cool rain on my face and the sound of the beat echoing through my body. It was pure heaven.