“Sam, don’t you have to get up?”
Grumble groan. Grumble, groan.
“Shouldn’t the alarm clock have gone off by now?” The bedside clock was reading 7.16 and even with its possible 10 minute fast setting, it was still passed 7am and it should have rung by now.
It is interesting how 7am for a non-worker is an entirely different proposition to 7am on a work day.
I headed downstairs, it is dark.
I smoked a joint as Sam ate breakfast, it didn’t go unnoticed. “Really? Just in front of me now. You are so proud of yourself.”
I check with him again, a moment later, call it stoners regret, that he wasn’t cross and that I wasn’t mistaken on my feeling about the situation.
“Could we not simply share coffee?”
“You only sit for a minute, then you are off upstairs,” I protested. “We barely share anything?”
“I certainly share all that smoke you are exhaling.
Buddy and I waved Sam good bye from the front gate.
I searched for a certain document that I was looking for to continue with my romance novel. It was another piece I had saved somewhere with a minor detail recorded, a detail I had to have now, of course. I get on with the search, determined to write and not to waste the time. I get distracted, of course, and I start to rename files stored in my 2013 and 2012 folders.
David calls, he has clearly been thinking about yesterday’s phone call. He wants to do Pho for dinner at 7.45pm. He excitedly asked me about the drug deal. “Have you done it yet?” he suddenly whispers.
“Done what?”
“You know what you done.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Oh! When then,” David explodes. “When will you know, darling?”
“Sometime.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why wont you tell me?”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“Then we must have dinner tonight, when you can tell all.”
There’s always a correct time for any music artist. I think Dionne Warwick is good for around 9.30am.
I love those mornings around 8.15… the day stretches out in front of me, infinite possibilities are possible.
I took Buddy to the park around 10.50. I started getting ready at 10.43, so I must have left around that time.
Sam left a message at the same time. 10.50am. Have you feed little pumpkin? Sam
12:04 pm. I’m hungry, what’s for lunch? Christian
Omg! how stoned are you? Fried rice, said Sam.
Oh, yum yum, said Christian.
What happen to dog park? Sam.
The dog park was great, Pixie was there. Buddy ran around the perimeter and then he said hello to all the dogs.
Except some accident happened right by my car and when I looked up it was surrounded by policemen and police cars. I wanted to leave, but I was a bit stone di do doned. (oh, one joint? You drive after one glass of wine?) So I had to wait a while just to suss out the situation
My lane was pretty clear, it had happened on the other side of the road. What happened, I’m not sure. From a distance it looked like an Outback, but up closer I think it was a Dodge Nitro. Being American, it probably caught alight and gassed its owner.
There seemed to be only one car, which didn’t seem to be damaged. It hadn’t seemed to hit anything. Everybody was around it, looking inside of it. All the doors were open. There was an ambulance, in which someone was being taken away, I think. Two fire engines, one stayed, the other left. I couldn’t work it out. Maybe it was a pedestrian?
There were strapping cops, in those sexy strap up protective wear kind of design. The cop closest to me was all muscles and arse, the straps were flattering. There were blue and red lights flashing. They were all concentrating on the job at hand, the mystifying, for want of a better expression, wreck. I found my sunglasses in my glovebox and slid them onto my face. All the safety equipment you need is sunglasses. I backed my car out with confidence and drove off.
It was a beautiful day, lovely and sunny and blue skies. Maybe not so much, for the Outback/Nitro driver, I guess though. There were road works all the way home.
Jill called. She had done a lot on her house, plastering walls, changing décor, finding a builder for the two new bathrooms and the new kitchen and the walk in dressing room. She asked how mum was? She talked slow, like she does sometimes when she is tired on the phone late at night.
She was clearly having a bored moment, it seems to be the only time I hear from her. No doubt she is manically renovating the arse off that house.
She asked me if I am going up there at Easter.
“Sam is visiting his family,” I said. “And I don’t have anyone to look after Buddy.”
She didn’t sound really convinced. She may have felt a little disappointed.
She had eaten a creamy drink and eaten chocolate biscuits, she told me. That always makes her sleepy. She was sleepy, or in the midst of a diabetic turn, it was so hard to say which.
She kind of faded away. I wondered if I should be concerned about her?
I got bored with writing, although I had written quite a bit. I had been working on my current novel. Good boy. It is a romance. I keep writing and writing until I am mentally exhausted.
I curl into a ball on the couch. As with Anthony, I think 3pm is always a very civilised time to have a nap.
The hum of sleep had reached all the way to my ears.
But, as I lay on the couch listening to the music, I remembered I hadn’t paid mum’s nursing home bill and it was 6th of the month. It was only 6 days late. It is amazing that I joked with Roz when mum had her last turn, that she had 7 days left that was paid up and now it is 6 days passed that.
What would they do? Kick her out? I couldn’t see that happening. I guess they would sue me for the money? Of course, they would.
I wrote out the cheque and walked to the corner post box to post it. It is a lovely afternoon and I tell myself I should come outside more often to enjoy it. What was it Doctor Johnny said, that I was low in vitamin D.
I bought a cream bun on the way back as a reward. By God, I didn’t walk any further that 100 metres.
I listened to Renee Geyer sing live at The Basement. You can put on any Renee Geyer album from any decade and it will still sound as new and fresh and undated.
I wonder about life. What does it mean? What do all of the events leading up to this point have in common? What is the common factor? Working my way up to having a good job only to lose it because of a bully at work. Working temp. After 3 years of it, I get a job that is beyond my experience, but which I could have done easily with a bit of effort. Oh, I hate that word. Just when I was stressing about the job, my mum takes a turn and gives me the perfect excuse to get out. I take it. Here I am back unemployed sitting at my computer doing what I love, but still not believing that I can do it.
I am scared of success. I sabotage, rather than just getting on with it so therefore, I guess, I never failed.
Sam said to me, “You can self publish now a days. You can get work onto Kindle libraries and the like. Publishing has never been easier. You just have to write it.”
I roll another joint. I am shit faced. It’s 3.30pm.
The bulldog snores loudly in the corner.
The music played. I laid my head back against the cushion on the couch and drifted off, better late than never.
Sam was most displeased that I have finished all the pot when he’d got home and that I hadn’t left any for him. That was a surprise. I thought he’d just be pleased that it was finished. I wondered if I should take this as a bad sign, that my corruption had proceeded further than I had anticipated. My pure baby grumbling about the lack of gunger for him, no that wasn’t supposed to happen.
We walked to Victoria Street and ate Pho with David. Sam grumbled about westerners being so boring in their food choices. “When did we last have Pho?”
“Last Saturday night with David.”
“That is Pho twice in less than a week,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t you like to have Thai, or any one of the many food cuisines that are available to us?”
“Oh.” I thought about it for a minute. David would need to be redirected. He’d have one hundred questions. Where is it? What is the name of the street? What is that closest to? Where can I park? Yabber yabber yabber. Intense questions, as David always takes his own wellbeing very seriously. “No. Stop complaining.”
David turned up all dressed up. He had come from the gym and he had his casual clothes on, as opposed to his yogi get up.
Two mixed beef. One mixed chicken and beef. All Medium.
“So, how’s it going?”
“Oh good, lazy day…”
“No, you know what I mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Oh the waiting in interminable.”
Walking home seemed like we had to walk many kilometres into the distance into the setting sun. It seemed like we had to walk passed the horizon. David offered us a lift.
Sam looked at me. “I know, I turned him down.” Talk about the hills getting longer and steeper. “We have to move to somewhere flat, we can’t be expected to climb mountains simply to get dinner.”
Sam told me to stop complaining.
“Only my ears are bleeding,” he said.
I was in full whinge-mode, mid whine, when we climb the precipice of Smith Street.
“Civilisation ahoy.”
Sam looked at me. The intersection was filled with golden light.
"I think I am very funny."
"I know you do."
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