She closed the front
door firmly, but not before a "Come a little earlier tomorrow, we have to
go out." She walked towards the guest room that doubled as the
computer room. The small house did not offer much in walking as an exercise.
She turned on the computer, ambled to the window, stood watching the street
below while it fired up. It was just 10 am and the summer sun was glaring back
at her in all his glory. She squinted painfully, before closing the lace
curtains.
Sitting on the slide
back chair, she was soon lost to the world around her. As she opened her inbox
to check the mails, thought she heard a soft voice whispering. Dismissing it as
the by product of an over active imagination, turned her attention to a
forwarded joke mail and chuckled quietly as she read through it. There was the
voice again. It was steadily yet softly humming in a rhythm. She recognised the
faint echoes of her name. Someone was calling out to her, but an unfamiliar
voice, not one you could identify at first hearing.
'Sounds like the noise
is coming from the front door, maybe, the bell isn't working...but why didn't
they knock on the wood?'
Grumpily got up, as
she neared a particular doorway, it become obvious that the sound emanated from
in there. She peeped in cautiously, 'What if it was a stalker?'
The scene before
her was a stuff of dreams. The table was occupied and looked inviting. She
stepped in the room and glanced at them all. They looked back at her, bright
and attractive.
Running her
fingers through her unkempt hair, her eyes and heart aglow, she silently
argued,
"One more day
wouldn't make that much of a difference, would it?
"It will not, but
that is not the issue here!'
'What is?'
'Accountability!'
'Go away, won't you?'
'Not this time, not
for a long time. Get over yourself. I am here to stay.'
Sighing, she made to
move, when the soft voice from before hummed again. It came from the left side
of the table, she noted absently. The voice suddenly went quiet as newer ones
that had been silent were now gaining momentum, whispering pleasant entreaties.
Enticing words that appealed to a particular emotion far more than to the
others were being uttered from all corners. The whispers soon grew louder, now
clamouring for her undivided attention.
Some solicited her
presence openly displaying their best qualities. They preened and pouted,
reminding her of her latest zoo visit. He had been strutting around,
showing off his colourful feathers much like these. They were obviously for
ones with expensive tastes with snobby airs.
Two of the group
watched the commotion with detachment bordering on amusement. They needed no
extra charms or marketing skills to attract, secure in the knowledge of her
servitude.
"She is addicted
to us, all right." the creamy tones remarked, catching his reflection.
"Quite right, if
the perky eyes are anything to go by. But, admit it brother, she prefers me to
you.” retorted the powdery voice cracking his knuckles in boredom.
"Don't get ahead
of yourself. Honestly you make me laugh. Not a day goes by without her wistful
glances at me, where you are ignored for weeks together." whistling in
contentment.
"Only
glances" smirking, "It's this dude she reaches for with her
delicate fingers, when she needs a shoulder to cry on...'" before
immersing himself in pleasant day dreams.
She was bemused,
unsure when someone else who had been watching this banter with growing
irritation, butted right in.
"Stop your vain
glory, insolent fools! One of these, I am going too..." the fourth, much
older voice was interrupted as a fight broke out.
She stood shell
shocked, unable to react, amazed that all this drama was for her humble self.
"Move over, you
greasy son of a cow!" ordered the dark one with a fragrance to die for...
'He tasted heavenly
too.'
The greasy son not to
be outdone pitched himself firmly in the way. In a voice dripping with disdain
"Mister Greasy keeps her breezy on those lonely nights, you leave her
by."
The round bellied said
wisely, "Meet her comforter on all days of the year. No one else is dearer
to her."
"Why don't we
just ask her?" the soft voice from earlier spoke, now seated rather
uncomfortably on the table top.
"Not a bright
idea, this new one of yours." the rest sneered.
The gentle one
retreated, beaten again, a score of zero to six.
She felt a stab of
pity for him, for he was one of her favourites. She rubbed her eyes
repeatedly, that had the ones at the table mighty concerned.
'Was she ill? That
would spell disaster.'
'Was she in a bad
mood?’ the dark one sure hoped so, for he would become the chosen one for
today.
'If she is unhappy, I
stand a chance' the beaten one's face perked up with this happy thought.
She looked at them all
for what seemed like eternity, clenching and unclenching her fists.
'This can't be
happening'
'It is and will get
worse' smug tones proclaimed.
'Make them leave!' she
begged.
'Only you can. Use
your power of discretion.' then faded
away.
The internal conflict
resolved, she gave them an accusatory look. There was guilt and longing mixed
in too.
Poking through the
wooden cabinet by the table yielded the usual suspects. She picked up the
manual from the seat and sat down near them. Adding a glass of skim milk to the
bowl of muesli, sprinkling it generously with pomegranates, she ate in silence
and mild frustration, reading the instructions.
The soft voice, hurt
and thus emboldened, openly cried
"What went wrong
in our friendship? I stood by you..." rudely interrupted by
"We all did, for
over a decade, through thick and thin, and this is the thanks we get?"
She munched on, head down, struggling
to articulate her thoughts. She flipped through the manual in her
hand and finally decided to end the game once and for all.
"Yes, I
appreciate what you did for me. The highs and feeling of being loved you
fostered in me."
Pausing, 'Had she
finally lost her mind' then continuing,
"But I hate,
really do, the other gifts you have bestowed on me."
"What other
gifts? All our gifts are good!" they screamed in unison.
"These tyres on
my stomach which had me resembling a bleached whale at last week’s party. Not
forgetting the scary proximity of my David and that flirty, size four
Kim."
Then with wishful moaning, “He has promised me
a solitaire if I lay off ...”
The breakfast
over, she dumped the deadly seven, one by one into the garbage can... apologising
over and over again.
She had passed the
first test, the one set by the Food Addicts Anonymous. Heaving sigh of
relief...if only, she didn't suffer a relapse the third time!
wc 1163
