Pineapples and Cocaine

I can not lie Mister Sun I miss you Why Mister Sun did you leave me Can I see your face again Can’t I be your only one “Cheyenne wait, I meant to tell you. I waited for you to get home to break the news I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.” Said Como a man fearing the daylight of his mistake, Cheyenne turned to face Como. “ You little piece of s**t!” Cheyenne's lips trembled, and she covered her mouth. She threw her red bottom at him, he ducked as it went over his head. "You treated me like a child for years, controlling my every step, I held out hoping mum would call me and tell me she just went to a retreat with her friends or something, anything Como anything!! You didn't say anything to me your wife", those words slipped out like a flat note. "You gaslighted me into thinking I was crazy when mum didn't take my calls." He clenched his jaw and looked deeper into her lost eyes as the wind from their open front door tore through his hair. Cheyenne turned away and stormed out of the front door.“Cheyenne wait, please I didn’t mean to not tell you!” His hands searched the air for what to say next a runic dance of fate. "Como…… what exactly did you mean to say? That you waited to tell me because I seemed too busy? That I never truly loved my mother, because you loved her better? She took me out of that godforsaken ghetto Como and showed me love that not even seven mothers over could've shown me!" These words beat on his chest as his face and throat swelled up red as her words had choked him. He let out a forced breath and looked away. Como tried to touch her forearm but she hit his hand in disgust, he looked at his hand in despair and gave it a high five. The tears made Como look to the ground, Como held his breath once more and pulled Cheyenne in close. She fought back kicking and screaming like an infant. she pulled at his apron and dug her red acrylics into his skin, and pulled his hair as a red clay pot shattered and cleared the air of their beastly struggle. Como's pineapple print apron came into her view as she accepted his closeness she hadn't felt in a long time. His breath smelt like her favorite strawberry toothpaste, she let out a rough hot breath and let the floodgates open. "Cheyenne you have to eat, everything will be okay", these words snapped her back to reality a cold one with no mother to hold her. " No It won't, Como my mother is dead!". She pushed him away, and he went flying and hit his head on the concrete of their oriental-styled walkway, he yelled and grabbed at her other shoe. She let it slip off with ease and ran into the house fearing his embrace she knew he would break her walls, and get her to talk about her feelings and fears, she felt the walls closing in she had to get out. The clanging of the wind chime by their greenhouse drew her attention to a distant memory, "not now mother" said Cheyenne in sobs. Como remained on the ground, he sighed and covered his eyes battered and bruised he cried for comfort. As she ran through the house she remembered how her mother would play tag with her, these memories came like a flood drowning out the noise. She crashed into the door frame of their master bedroom and collapsed into a wasted heap her vision blurred. She forced herself up crying like a misunderstood teenager running from her parents, she walked to her walk-in closet and pushed the glass panels open, she pulled down a large suitcase. The first suitcase her mother ever got her. She ran her hand on the top, Italian leather with a teenage motto written on permanent marker "trinkets and memories", before her breakdown Como walked into the house his eyes followed her telling her to stop, pleading, sobbing, and crying out for her to see his pain. His eyes fought like a caged animal that couldn't be set free. He felt the ache at the back of his head as he ran his finger through his straight black hair he saw the blood. Cheyenne was stuffing everything into her suitcase she sat and looked at the ground exhausted, "Coco…. no I mean Como, I'm not an i***t things aren't going to be okay". She’s not gone it must be a mistake I took care of her hospital bills once, I saw her over a month ago and she was thriving. Cheyenne closed the suitcase and cut her finger with the zipper in the process, Como bites his nails and wiped his tears away, Cheyenne marched out of the house barefoot potted plant in hand. As she got to the threshold she then realized what she carried with her and went back to get her suitcase. She met como at the front door and kissed him briefly como remained at the door and looked at the sky hoping it was all a dream or his brownies finally kicked in. In the cab drive Cheyenne felt her skin longing for comfort as her eyes searched the scenery, she looked at her bare feet on the rubber mat. The empty pit she felt was swallowed up by the music on the radio, the Ethiopian music reminded her of her childhood before her mother was solemn and cold. Through her tears and gasps, she plugged in her earphones and drowned out the world around her. Everything felt and looked brand new like her mother's death had put a filter over her eyes that let her see everything in an autumn orange hue, warm and almost shiny. The august afternoon felt like the bubbles floating in the virgin strawberry shandy Cheyenne ordered from the lounge bar, Cheyenne felt the crisp air of the lounge fill her lungs, and the crystal chandeliers glittered and sparkled like a star being born under the rays of light from the skylight from the afternoon sun. The luxurious hardwood table in front of her reminded her of her first physical form of privacy, with a keyhole for each drawer, she looked at her key card sitting on the table like a motif in plain sight, it felt like a sad song on repeat. She booked a one-way flight to South Africa on the way to the airport. Her flight was delayed by a day as the Lusaka traffic delayed her, it felt just like her first holiday with her new family. A getaway trip from her impoverished life and homeland, the soles of her feet dry and hardened felt the soft white beach sand and it was her secret not so secret second home. There was a pleasant smell of lavender in the air probably from the tile cleaner. "Mum loved lavender" she croaked with mucus coming out of her nose, she wiped it away with a handkerchief her mum made for her on her twelfth birthday. Cheyenne felt her emotions spew out of her pours sticky like the African bubble gum from her childhood nightmares. Her miniskirt rode up each time she moved to make herself more comfortable, the couple seated opposite her in the lounge eyed her legs. Their eyes felt like her uncle's glaring eyes, hungry like a wolf, a memory she blocked with one pinch. Cheyenne thought back to the times she tried to impress her mother in her Sunday best. Twirling around her mother showed her how lovely and grateful she was for her new dress, a dress she burned trying to show her mother months later how independent she was with an iron, that was the day she received her first slap. Cheyenne’s hands began to shake as her breathing quickened, she held herself and resisted the urge to get into the fetal position and cry herself to sleep. The couch felt like another home she was yet to fill, a bed not her own, and the lounge a space she couldn’t resonate with. A child zoomed by with a lollipop in hand smelling like baby powder and covered in food stains. She touched her face and felt the wetness. She reached for her bag frantically searching for her sunglasses. She begged the spaces her hands searched to be filled with comfort. In a panic feeling like every eye was on her, she absent-mindedly put her red lipstick on and smoothed her short permed hair, she dropped her TelFar bag on the floor. "f**k! I need my shades. Oh God, Oh God I hate that fucker why didn't he tell me! I hate coco!" on that she tried to refuse his nickname but what was said could not be reversed. All her belongings were on the floor. She missed her shades and touched what seemed to be an expensive leather shoe, without looking she recognized the feel and design of the shoe. For a brief moment, a thought came into mind maybe como came to get her, take her home to eat, bathe, and cry about the silly mistake he made, and mum would call her and ask her about her day. She let go and finally found her shades and put them on hastily. Her hair stuck to her forehead making her look like she was wearing a helmet, and her skirt ripped a little. "Great, everything is everywhere, Como help me up already! Why the hell did I pack so many damned things?" Cheyenne thought to herself. As she lifted her bag off the floor, the other side of her bag began to open and her most valued trinkets fell out. A bottle she kept opened and an assortment of jelly beans fell out mostly yellow onto the carpet. She grabbed at the carpet and hoped the five-second rule would apply to this situation. She began to pick them up and noticed the leather shoes had remained where she first met them. "Is this a punishment of some sort for pushing him to his limit or does como hate me now that he won't even help me?", She looked up and saw a strange-looking man eyeing her jelly beans. In his hand, he held a pineapple Martini, which irritated her, without saying Cheyenne truly hated pineapples. "f**k……Sorry I meant to say hello" she jumped back in fear of this strange old man. People turned to look at her and there stood before her an old black bootleg version of Steve Harvey but skinny, he was stepping on her teddy penguin Mr. Spice, Mr spice’s imagery voice chimed in as she looked at him, "Skua! Cheyenne the floor is cold and his stepping on my flipper" said Mr spice in Cheyenne's mind. She pouted and whispered, " My baby, I'm sowwy". He bent down to help with his comic smirk and a questioning twinkle in his eye. Cheyenne gagged. As he lifted his foot she grabbed Mr spice and hit his shoe with Mr spice in revolt but Mr spice stared at her with his beady little eyes judging her for that. She held onto the couch out of breath her little outburst took a little more out of her than she expected and that virgin shandy felt more like a triple shot shandy to her. His body language was full of confidence from the way he stood to the way he straightened out his jacket. She looked at him in his suit and saw a lavender boutonnière that looked quite lovely. It was like the one Como wore to her mother's seventieth birthday party, her smile fell. He was freshly shaven, the breeze carried the scent of his Hugo boss she caught a whiff of it and scrunched up her nose. “Today must be my lucky day”, He chuckled “Good afternoon!” Cheyenne stood up and ignored the mess on the floor, he chuckled and said “Your breasts bounce around like a young girl, what a sight”, Cheyenne looked him over and saw that he was older than he gave off. He laughed and picked up her things slowly and with such care, he put them back into her bag and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb to help with her lipstick. He put his hand on her shoulders and sat her down on the couch more like a father he looked her up and down, and he held her bag in his hand. "Cheyenne? Is that your name?" He looked at her and looked back at the ID, "No and could you leave me the hell alone!" said Cheyenne dropping her hands in defeat, As she looked at him the words that slipped out of his disgusting mouth gave way to a sickening feeling, a pit within herself filled and let out all that she had kept. Tears filled her eyes, she cried ferociously, she fell into his arms and he held her close. Wide-eyed looking at the floor she let the tears flow. She didn't push back, she simply let it happen and didn't move an inch, her stranger relaxed and looked at Cheyenne with such warmth, like an abandoned child. "Baby girl, I'm just here to play the weekend away and you seem to have a few things you need to party away to" He chuckled and let out a crackling laugh. With this she stopped crying and wiped the mess she made on her face. She stood to leave, she looked over at the couple in the lounge, smiled at them like a Cheshire cat, and rolled her eyes. This strange man sprung up like youth had entered his old bones and made him young again, he got a hold of her. The feeling of his hand on her arm felt familiar like her mother would do when she was mad, “She made me feel loved even when I didn’t want to be loved” she whispered this out softly to him questioningly. Cheyenne choked on those words, “ call me Mr. Broom!” he coughed out his name. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her face clean, she pushed him away and frowned at her willingness to be vulnerable with this man, she cried a little more at this realization. "Vulnerable me?!, What a joke" Cheyenne spat out. “Cheyenne if that is your name, I’m no one you should take any interest in but I am having a little shindig or “chill” as the youngsters say, for my seventieth birthday”. He felt her hand in his and twirled her wedding ring between his fingers. She looked up at him and her face dropped, she had been alone since that morning. With a wave of her hand, she declined his offer and picked up her luggage. She began to make her way to the lady's restroom, there she fiddled with her bag searching for wipes. As she wiped away the stains of her mascara and her lipstick she looked intently into the mirror "Why didn't she tell me? Her face darkened, and time felt like a song on repeat as ladies walked in and out of the restroom she was still standing like a mannequin looking at herself almost spellbound looking at herself and only herself. She finally came to and left the restroom with a sigh, as Cheyenne walked through the lounge she passed Mr broom close enough to hear him, "Damn I wish I could f**k that ass!" he said in a deep Southern American accent. She dropped her luggage and looked back at him, " What the actual f**k is wrong with you?" she said exhausted. He in turn flustered by her response redirected the conversation, " Hey I didn't….. hey don't your feet feel clammy because mine sure do" he was sweaty and laughed it off, he was almost senile. He played it off and sketched the back of his head, he was a "man's man's". He sat and offered her a cigar in the smoke and lights he looked like Thor with his long gray hair, grey stormy eyes, and loose Afro. In clouds of smoke and the dim shadows like a witch, she eyed him " I hate his lavender boutonnière, why is he here" she pinched her skin and bit her lip. Shifting her feet she went to the front desk and booked a room for the night. She felt her hair, like little needles she smoothed it down. The night wore thin, the white curtains of her penthouse suite looked out to the great runways. She felt a chill out of the night air, she soothed herself and hoped to be loved, to be remembered the way she remembered her mother. Cheyenne hoped it was all a horrible nightmare and prayed her mother would call and tell her to come home. To forgive Como and his pineapple-shaped head. “Como is a pineapple” she smiled lightly as a tear fell. The linen on her king-sized bed smelled of vanilla this scent soothed Cheyenne, she looked around wondering and hoping something out of the darkness of her room would take her far away. It brought her back to herself a little, she stretched like a cat and felt for her phone to check the time, it was only nine pm. She went to take a shower and thought taking a shower before dinner would be her only win of the day. She went in and turned on the shower the water fell like rain, there she cried and collapsed into a wasted heap of nothingness and memories wrapped in one. It was like a sick joke at the end of a bad stand-up show. After her shower, she sat on her bed for an hour staring into the darkness. She opened her suitcase and saw a pair of worn flip-flops, an assortment of thongs, and her old pajamas. She rolled her eyes ad pushed the suitcase to the side, she put on her old clothes and made her way downstairs to the restaurant. As she walked through the hotel she thought back to the first time she ever stayed at a hotel, it was a month after her adoption, and she traveled to her mother's homeland Ireland and met her new family. The nostalgia of this environment filled her brain like a piano solo in a glass room, she felt her mind bend and twist making an outlet to release this pain. She walked through the halls she felt slightly tipsy and spotted Mr. Broom by the elevators, he moved his hips to the music playing over the speakers in the halls. He spotted her, she turned back and tried to make her way back to her room but tumbled over the décor in the hallway, Mr. Broom rushed over to her with a smile on his face. "If it isn't too much of a bother," he said as he helped her up. "Maybe you would like to attend my party it'll start in the next twenty minutes" he smiled as he wiped the sweat off his face. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and gave him a small smile, it was filled with anger and disgust. "Maybe I'm not making any promises, but thanks for the help," she said filled with anger, with that he felt her and got onto the elevator. Cheyenne let out a sigh, she turned and made her way back to her room. As she walked through her room she felt her breasts, " I couldn't give her any grandkids. I could never make her a Grandmother". She passed a mirror and saw she looked slow, hungry, and lacked luster. The dips in her hips made her look older than she was, she felt her heart ache it was more than she could take. The silence of the penthouse drowned her thoughts, she looked at the clock on the wall it was ten minutes passed ten pm, she throw her hands into the air and plopped onto her bed. With one look at the front door she got up and started to clean herself up, she sprayed on air freshener because she left her perfume at home, she threw a little tantrum rolling on her bed knowing she left her perfume, and walked the halls of the hotel a confident lavender breeze, she held her head up high. She got to the entrance of the conference room- turned rave, she changed her mind and turned away only to spot Mr. Broom in the lounge. He had on a crocodile green suit, his gold cuff links brought out the strands of gold in his greying hair and made his Light brown skin look tan. "I knew you would come," he said with excitement with some cheap carnival jewelry around his neck and placed on her neck, she felt even more annoyed to have run into him when she decided not to go with it, but his antics were working to distract Cheyenne. He touched her hand and brought it up to kiss it, she pulled it away and stopped his advance. “Only for you my dear Cheyenne” Cheyenne pulled away slightly but enough to give him a hint, she looked around as they walked side by side. "He looks younger than I expected in the disco lights," she thought to herself. She chuckled a little. She looked at his jawline, "to think this man is my mother's age, mum would forbid me from seeing this man" she side-eyed him as she thought to herself and observed his behavior, he was like a fifties playboy. She felt like a rebel, the lights danced in her eyes like a madman, feeling her cheeks become wet she wiped her tears away. They danced most of the night drinks flowed like an unending river, thrusting their hips, touching sensually almost like making love to the beat of the music. "I see you like to dance with the earth too. But aren't your feet cold?" Cheyenne looked puzzled, “I don’t know what you mean but give me a minute”. Cheyenne left his side and went to the lady's restroom for a breather, she looked into the mirror above the sink and saw her make-up smudged. Her hair was messy and spiky like a porcupine, she had sweat through her dress. “This is the first time in a long time I feel alive” she kissed her hand. She put her hand on her chest and still felt the pain, she choked as she looked at her feet still bare, she looked around and knew the bathroom floor was filthy. She ran to a toilet stall, her face scrunched up as her hands explored the toilet bowl, she vomited and sat up against the wall. "Why am I like this? Como would vomit if he saw what my feet looked like", She walked out of the restroom wiping her mouth, and saw Mr. Broom by the bar ordering another set of drinks. She pulled the front of her dress down, lifted her breasts for the world to see, and pinched her cheeks but her melanated skin wouldn't allow her to live her Hollywood fantasy. She walked to Mr. Broom on her tiptoes at the bar and pulled his sleeve, his eyes widened questioning this gesture and he spilled most of the Vodka on his suit. "Whoa, little lady what's the matter, you looking to get a little freaky?", "Do you want to cap the night off with a few drinks in my suite!" Cheyenne bubbly and drunk giggled. She whispered awkwardly into his ear, he looked at her softly and smiled. "Sure thing little lady", Mr. Broom danced with the other ladies and made a speech, Cheyenne sat alone away from the party in the lounge looking at the chandelier with a pineapple Martini. She drank it with disdain, she had carried Mr grey in the pocket of her skirt as she sat there she pulled him out and cried into his fluffy chest. Cheyenne was the happiest at this moment. Mr. Broom slow danced with an older woman, and Cheyenne imagined her mother dancing the way he did, Mr. Broom walked to Cheyenne after the dance, "Are you sure you want to go now, I mean it's still pretty early it's only midnight?" You know could talk to some people and get to know them" Mr. Broom said a bit out of breath, "Yeah well my feet are disgusting and I'm a little bushed" Cheyenne squinted her eyes in the bright light. A quick nod and they walked to the elevator, she took one more look at the lounge and sighed. The next morning the sunshine burned her eyes and the pillows swallowed her up like clouds, Cheyenne woke to her stuff scattered on the floor her jelly beans had made a trail that reminded her of ants marching in line to her suitcase. Her penguin was on the floor looking at her and judging her. "Don't look at me like that", her clothes were neatly folded on the chair in the corner with little red sticky notes. Waiting for her to read Cheyenne stood and walked to the chair, she picked up her clothes and the note, hung her head, and ruffled her hair. Her penguin lay still as the morning light made the shadows dance in her room, she sat down to read the note. Her hangover look softened as the dark circles of her under eyes lightened up. The light pierced her eyes through the curtains, she covered her eyes and pinched herself. Cheyenne began to read the notes and they said, "Good morning Cheyenne last night was fun, I'm sorry I left without saying a word but I wanted to make sure you got in okay. We didn't do anything since you called me an old fart most of the night, we ate your stash of jelly beans and played charades". She frowned at that and reached for her empty medicine bottle and laughed as she continued, "You complained of a pineapple shaped man and you cried a lot about him, I could tell from the way you spoke of your mother that she was dear to you. My wife was the same, my children loved her dearly, and cherish those memories. I wish you the best on your journey to healing love- Mr. Broom". She lifted her head and looked around a soft chime came from her phone, She walked across the room to her handbag to check who messaged her. There she saw a reflection in the mirror by the doorway of a plane landing by the runway she looked out to it and said, “ My reflection is my reality, this reality is defined by the way I handle this grief. I should call that pineapple head.” She looked at her phone; “Cheyenne please come home, I need you”- Como. Cheyenne looked out onto the balcony and saw a little bird pecking at the carcass of a dead lizard. She put her phone to her chest, her hands trembled and she let the phone slip out of her hand. Cheyenne hoped Como would appear before her and carry her home. She bite her lip and pulled the curtain down, she threw her things on the bed to the floor. She ran around the room like a wild cat and jumped on the bed, she slipped off the bed and hit her head on the floor violently, it stopped her outburst. She remained there and cried, she hit the floor over and over bloodying her hand and pulling her hair. She choked as she cried and gasped for air, a knock came from the door. She stopped and looked up, and slowly stood to answer the knock. With each step her eyes widened and gazed at the door, maybe just maybe it would be Como. But she didn’t hold onto hope as she opened the door she smelt the scent of bleach, she looked at the man there to clean her room and told him to come when she had left. He looked at her hand “ Ma’am are you okay?” the young man said, his lips pink and light brown drawing her attention as he spoke. His light brown skin with freckles like dust made her look at him more intensely, his name tag had a gold trim, with a black filler. His name in white bold letters intrigued her, “ Morgan” Cheyenne mouthed and said it out loud with confidence. Morgan held her hand as she slipped down the door onto the floor he called for help and she held him close to her, “ please stop I’m okay, my mum just died”. Morgan didn’t stop calling for help until she covered his mouth and yelled into his face, “ stop, stop it! Please my mothers is just dead I can’t deal with it anymore”. Morgan looked down at her softly, a little frustrated, and pushed her away, “why are you covered in blood?”. Morgan saw her tears drop onto the floor and moved to touch her, she let him touch her hand and he pulled her into his embrace. Cheyenne pulled him closer, she opened her eyes. His warmth was unfamiliar to her but It was welcoming like her father's love, she held him close and spoke to him softly, “ could you please help me call my husband, I need to go home”.