STICK IN THE VINE

Chapter 8

Shawty's pushed her table against the lily laden wall, her swivel chair with the vase containing the gold fish ,has been transfered beside the couch.The couch catalogued with hand bags, rolls of wires, inks in glass bottles of different colours and a touch. She comes in, she's changed clothes - that's what's in the travelling bag ,places a stool in front of the table , raise the blinds up to see the sky, traipses to the couch, picks up four bags on each hands,and heaves them on the table where she'd placed the soldering iron, tester and knives of different sizes. She goes down stairs and returns with a pack Starbucks coffee, half eaten McDonald's burger and fries, and a pharmaceutical bag. Oh, she's bought the meds Racheal recommended.

I guess she ordered those while I was up . It's no hotel tonight, we're sleeping here in the office. Did I say sleep? I don't sleep, but Sleeping for her is bleak ; not with this pack of coffee. She finishes with the fries, sips the steaming coffee slowly. Takes out a remote and clicks it at the ceiling. Wait, is it going to roll over ? Yes it wil- No it doesn't.

Edsheraan pulsates out of the speakers hidden in the ceiling. It's a compilation and it begins with The- A-team. I can't pin at a reason why Shawty's loves his songs.

. She isn't in love with anyone. Maybe it's the connection that comes with his songs. When he's singing about love, she feels that same connection for her job and a part of his lyrics find somewhere to talk about what she's going through.

Like in this -A-Team, it says, "The worst things in life come free to us." Which is really true. We don't have to queue to get some of the worst things in life, they just come.

I died not because I asked for it, it just came . I should tell you how I died, but I'm really sombre right now, and really not in the mood to become moodier .So I will later ,when I catch my breath.

Shawty holds the small knife like a scalpel going into the flesh, and delicately slices through one of the leather bags. Not completely through, but a few inchs deep and peels it off, I can't catch up with the whole process, her nimble fingers line the bag round with wires, she opens a pink ink bottle , spills a drop on the table ; switches a touch at the spill and the blob of ink moves quickly away from the light.

Shawty stops, looking blankly at the window, bolts upright, and scurries towards the couch searching the bevy of bags, and comes out with her mobile phone . She presses, rapping against the keypads ,sending a message to Rachel.

Shawty : Where did you keep those CAD chips again? Probably forgotten.

She places the phone on her lips, elbow resting on her other hand crosses at her chest.

" Racheal." She breathes.

The phone beeps.

Racheal: transferred them to my office after testing. It's been activated.

Shawty: Okay thanks.

Racheal:Where are you?

Shawty: Working, bye.

She switches the phone off and darts out of the room.

She comes up with a small brown box ,labelled Elfash, opens it and brings out green boards that look like phone panels. She makes series of solderings on the wire tubes , connecting them to the green chips she'd layed the bags with,in rows of threes from top to bottom, round the bag, and then connects it with her laptop. I stop looking at what she's doing, stare up at her face, her intense focus puzzles me. She keeps raising the hair that falls on her face before finally bonding it up in a ponytail.

I view her as a timer, that'd been counting down slowly, but a kid comes around and slams a button, and it begins to tick off ,rocket fast.

She rips through the bags, the floor filled with shards of leather and sacks that used to be bags. She looks at the laptop monitor and looks at the bag thats all wound in tubes and chips. She stares disappointedly, her shoulders slouches. She tosses it again to the heap on the floor and walks to the couch to pick more bags.

She begins the process of ripping off again, and taking coffee, sweat beading on her fore head and neck and . I wonder if her mum would be able to catch a sleep tonight, wouldn't she keep a vigil as she did last night? This just the opposite of cause and effect.

How much harm can I cause when I don't intend causing any ? If you have an answer, compare it to, how much harm I can cause when I intend causing harm? It's just two opposite ends of the spectrum ; the bottom line is, I cause harm in both cases when I intend to , and when I don't.

She sits on the black recliner, her grey perm on the head board, her legs stretched, hands laced on her stomach, facing the glass wall that opens to the garden.

Oh my days, beside her on the glass stool, is the heliverdazine bottle. She must have gone up to check the wardrobes. What's she thinking about? Does she know already?

She stands up slowly, her eye brows kink, looking like the person she's been expecting isn't going to come. Slowly, she drops golden curtains from their holders to cover the glass, blocking out the garden.

She picks up the heliverdazine, and her basket of drugs. Alice comes down from the stair well.

" Let me help you to your room ma'am." Alice says, offering to collect the basket.

" No, thank you dear, gotta exercise my legs."

" Alright ma'am,I've layed the bed."Alice says ,curtseying.

" Yes, you can tomorrow off, you did alot clearing those , those , I don't know what to call it, from Danielle's room. I'm fit to take care of myself."

" No, ma'am, it wasn't much. I do more than that at my old place. It's really nothing." Alice says, stretching to collect the basket, a smile on her face, Mrs Rawlings releases it to her, after a short hesitation.

"Okay."

Mrs Rawlings ambles slowly , but stops by the sofa that faces the brown door into the room.

"Alice ? " Mrs Rawlings says, her eyes narrow.

" Yes, ma'am," Alice pauses,her shoulders lower a little, hanging the basket between her thigh and knees, facing Mrs Rawlings.

" Alice, have you noticed anything strange in my daughter?" Mrs Rawlings says, rubbing her chest .

Alice's brows scrunches, her checks raise , as her eyes narrows in the direction of the kitchen as though the answer is there, then they start rolling within their sockets like screen wipers at the ceiling.

"No, I don't, oh, except she took breakfast today, that's the only strange thing I've observed." Alice says, almost beaming . I shake my head at this, since when did ,not eating become a normal thing for people, not ghosts, and eating become strange? Mrs Rawlings lips slouch at this, the rubbing on her chest persistent. She sits on the sofa and breathes heavily. What's happening?

"What , what is it ma'am?" Alice prompts, dropping the basket to attend to her, her arm cross over Mrs Rawlings's back.

" Too. Too much standing. Help me inside please, pointing at the brown door."

Alice wipes off her forehead, and helps her gently into the room.

Shawty, can you come home now? Your mum's worried.