The day began with the sun, as it always does. Between the breezes and the brush, little slivers of light cascaded through the trees, awaking the birds and the moss. Mourning doves cooed somberly with the dawn. Pink waves of moisture painted the sky, as if pouring soft creamer into the murky abyss of night. Gentle at first, the earth began to breathe, flowers reached towards the heavens, the dew became nervous. Then it all rushed forwards. The light. The sun. The sky. The pinks and purples slipped through the fingers of the heavens and the blue overcame as it always does. The sun shouted over the horizon with the roosters and crows. Its sphere overcame the world and threw itself outwards, forcing its warmth through Clara’s bedroom window.
The light poured onto her quilt graciously and danced over the sleeping heads of herself and Archie. She had chosen this apartment for this very reason. Her bedroom overlooked the park wonderfully to the east while her living room faced the town square to the west, letting the light wash over her throughout the day. Theodore often spent his time sleeping in the living room. The sun did not dictate his day, but rather his stomach which desperately needed to be filled.
Theodore pranced over to Clara’s room and pounced on her bed. The morning light crept in between the fibers of his fur and sent a warm shiver down the cat’s spine. How nice it felt! He flopped onto his back and let the warmth bask his stomach. It was heavenly. It all was just heavenly. Theodore rolled aimlessly around the quilt until he brushed against a mass underneath the covers. He quickly flipped over to protect his underbelly. What could that be? A beast, it must be. For certain, a beast. Theodore began swatting at the cowardly beast. It did not move. What a stubborn creature. He outstretched his claws and began scratching at the shrouded beast. The beast groaned from under the covers. But there was another creature next to the beast. It shifted and squirmed, yawning faintly. Theodore bounded closer to the gentler of the two, ready to use his claws if necessary. The creature groaned again, and little bits of golden blonde hair peaked out from the covers. Clara! Of course! Of course, yes, Clara is not in fact a beast. Clara is the solution to the emptiness in Theodore’s stomach. He pranced closer to her shoulders. She was facing away from him with her hands rested gently on the beast’s chest.
Theodore pushed his head against her shoulder blade to wake her up. She was slightly cold to the touch. It made sense, as her shoulder had been exposed to the depths of the night. He must awake her to the warmth of the day. He rubbed against her gently, and doing so made a purr erupt within his chest. He couldn’t help it, of course. For he loved her dearly. She made him warm.
Clara finally stopped fighting the crust in her eyes and peeled her eyes to the morning. She had seen most hours of the night already, and she was not yet ready to see the day. She peered over at the cat vibrating against her spine. She needed to feed him. She forgot to get food for him yesterday. The rest of the cans in the cabinets expired a few weeks ago. She had to get some today. She had to.
She turned over to Archie. His chest was cold, and his face looked pale. She shook him gently, but he didn’t budge. Clara jolted upright. She spooked Theodore off the bed. No, not Archie! He had so much life left in him, he must not go like this! First Florence and now Archie. How could a world take so much from one person? Why must every person she loves die in her arms? Clara pressed her hands to her lover’s heart with tears forming in her eyes. A tense pain erupted in her chest as she shook him violently. Archie must wake up! He must.
“Archie!” Clara screamed through her tears. He could not leave her here.
“What?” Archie arose with a start, “What’s wrong, my love?” His first view of the morning was of his lover kneeling half-nude wailing over him. Her body eclipsed the sun, emphasizing her beautiful figure.
“You were so cold,” Clara stammered, “It was like you had died in my arms.”
“Well as you can see, I am still breathing, my love,” Archie sighed. His hands gravitated towards her hips almost innately and began rubbing her sides. He loved her hips. And her legs. He wanted to hold her in this light and make her smile. Her smile was wonderful. It made her look all bright and colorful. When she smiled, she rarely pushed this narrative of death that Archie was so tired of. This was the third time she suspected his early passing this month. He would rather have her smile. And perhaps wrap her legs around his own. He would like that very much. But Clara was not smiling.
“You should not dismiss me as you do,” Clara said pushing his hands away, “You know what happened to Florence.”
“Florence was sick, my love,” Archie put his hands back on her body and pulled her into his chest. “I am as healthy as ever.”
He traced his hands through her tousled hair. Chunks of hair came out in his hands as he brushed. A pang struck his chest. He loved her hair. The way it scraped against his chest as they embraced. The way it shined brightly in her magazine covers. The way he grasped it tightly as they made love. She must take better care of it, then. He flung the pieces away from their embrace and moved his caresses to her spine. It was also freezing.
“My love, I believe the night was just cold,” Archie said, “You too are as cold as a corpse.”
Clara giggled softly. What would she do without this man? Oh, how he grounds her so gently. When she was spiraling while writing her books, or battling with the press, or grieving the loss of yet another of her colleagues, it has always been Archie leading her back to his arms. Back home. Florence used to live here with her sometimes. It was their home together on some sleepless nights writing or drinking or smoking too many cigarettes. Oh, Florence. Her poor, dear friend. Her heart couldn’t take it. The writing, the publishers, the agents, the press, the despair, the nights. Oh why. No, why must she have left Clara all alone?
“Do you think about death?” Clara said looking into her lover’s eyes.
“My love, why must you always bring this up?” Archie groaned.
“It’s a simple question,” Clara pushed his arms away again, “And I want an answer.”
She was starting to feel the cold of her bedroom wade over her skin, so she reached to her discarded t-shirt from the night before and slipped it over her shoulders. Archie’s face fell. Why must she start their mornings in such a state. Why can she not just smile? She is insufferable in these manic antics.
“Of course not!” Archie boomed. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes. Clara did the same, the light of the day became hot against their backs.
“Don’t you think you should?” she said fastening the button on her pants. “I think about it often.”
“And why is that?” he said. He didn’t bother looking at her. If she wasn’t smiling, there was no point in the matter.
“Because it is of great concern, Archie!” Clara shouted. She stood in front of her bedroom door, blocking his exit. “We are on the brink of death!”
“We are not on the brink of death, Clara!” Archie grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently. “We are young, and we are fine. You have a wonderful, wealthy life as an author. You are not dying, and neither am I.”
Clara didn’t bother saying anything more. This was one of Archie’s most common ways of grounding her, besides his famous slap to the face. It’s what she knew she needed or perhaps what she deserved. She wasn’t normal, she could feel it. She felt a deep crawling beneath her skin. It never stopped moving. Sometimes it urged her to write, other times it told her that her boyfriend was dead in her arms. The crawling never stops, it’s always lurking. With every press tour for her books, it gets worse. It starts whispering to her, you must live. Do you feel like you are living? Where was she? Is this what life is? Will she always be trapped within the confines of this body? Of this life? Of her words on a page? She must live. She must be awoken. Archie will awake her. He always found a way. It’s why Clara made him her manager. He has always found a way. No matter how much she hates how he grabs her hips.
“I’m sorry,” Clara whispered. The sun shifted further into her window. It blinded her slightly, so she hid behind Archie’s shadow.
“If you mean it, you’d smile for me,” Archie said. It was the only thing that he knew would settle this burning in his chest. She was so beautiful. Her face is what is selling her books by now. She cannot think this way, or she’ll ruin her own body. Florence ruined her, already. Florence was weak enough to give up. She said the industry was too much for her, that she needed to step away. She didn’t have the drive to get what she wanted. And she never cooperated in the bedroom. Archie could never get a hold of her hair. Not like Clara. Clara cooperated. At least most of the time.
She smiled softly for him, but a tear trickled down her cheek. She didn’t mean to. She knew she didn’t mean to. Archie just groaned and pushed past her to the hallway.
“You have no idea how hard you make my life, Clara,” Archie grunted. He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. A faint squeak came from the corner at the bang. Archie snapped his head to the side. The cat! Of course. He couldn’t get a minute of peace away from the haunted creatures of this apartment. He had to restrain himself from putting his fist through the mirror. He inspected himself in the reflection. A grizzly looking creature looked back. His eyebags were deeper, his brown hair had splotches of grey and white, and a single scratch crept down his cheek from the poker game the night before. He had told his buddies he would double the money he owed them if he won. He never loses. But the guys were counting cards again. The lazy cheats. And he ended the night owing twice as much as before and had to leave the club fighting for his own dignity.
He sighed with his throat. This was all because of Clara. She forced his into these situations, making him stressed enough to gamble. Clara didn’t understand her ridiculous nature. He tried to help her. Those books wouldn’t sell if it wasn’t for him making her look all nice and fixed together. If he didn’t push her, neither of them would make any money. No one wants a funeral of a woman. Except maybe when her post-mortem sales go through the roof. Yes! Now that is a wonderful turn of events. Oh Florence! How her death suited Archie so well. How it filled his pockets nicely. How she finally cooperated with him as her lights went out. How unfortunately convenient.
Archie scraped his hand over his scarred cheek and smiled dryly at the hazy reflection. A deep chuckle arose from his stomach. Oh, what a wonderful thing to come of death. What an unfortunately wonderful thing. Oh Clara! How fortunate she will make him. How lovely her death will be. Where was that bag he threw in here the night before? The one that helped him out so well with Florence. Ah yes, next to the cat.
The Beast reached forward towards where Theodore was sitting. Theodore arched his back and hissed at the creature, but the creature did not cease. The Beast instead extended past Theodore and grabbed the small pouch next to the pile of towels the cat was resting on. Theodore kept his fur taught and claws extended as he watched the Beast move. From the pouch, the Beast pulled out a small clear bag like that of what Clara uses to carry his treats. Oh, how hungry he was! The Beast then carefully opened the mirror like Clara did every night before bed. He reached into the space behind it and pulled out Clara’s bottle of treats. Theodore liked it when Clara would have her treats every night, because she would have hers and she would calm down and remember to feed him. He wondered if the beast would do the same thing. No! He would not. The Beast switched out his own treats for Clara’s! Theodore would not like it if someone did that to his food. He must tell Clara. He bounded over the door and started scratching vigorously.
Archie shoved the bag of pills in his pocket with a smile and opened the door for the creature. As the door opened, he was met with the glassy eyes of Clara. Oh, what beautiful eyes. What a shame they must close forever. However, it is nice that they will never close on the cover of a book. Her wonderful smile will live. That is what mattered.
“Are you here to apologize to me darling?” Archie reached for her waist. Another part of her that he hated to lose.
Clara just pushed past him to the bathroom without saying anything. She needed to get her groundings before she spoke to him. Oh, how she loved him. How she wanted to apologize and rush into his arms. Why was she still shaking? She locked eyes with Theodore. How could she forget his food again? How can she live life so horribly? She found her tears running down her cheeks rapidly. She must have a clear head before she could continue the conversation. She reached for the medicine cabinet and pulled out her bottle of pills quickly. Her saving grace! Florence had recommended them to her when they were both struggling with it all. It cured the crawling. It made it all stop like it was nothing at all. Clara took it every day since Florence’s death- or maybe it was before? Yes, it was before! She had felt the crawling especially strongly one night. It was the night Florence kissed her. She probably didn’t need to take it then. The worms felt warm underneath her skin. But she wanted to live there with her. She opened the bottle and swallowed one of the pills dry.
“You are fired,” Clara said quietly. Why were her hands still shaking so much?
Archie smiled his big grizzly smile. “You fire me?” He said sneering. “My love why would you make such a horrible decision.” The anger in his chest urged to rush to his fist.
“You have no respect for what I have to say,” she said. Clara lifted her chin despite the tears tumbling down, but the crawling in her chest alleviated quickly. “You don’t believe me when I say nothing but the truth.”
She marched to the living room away from his gaze. The light hadn’t reached there yet, but blue skies were visible through the window to town’s square. Archie ran after her.
“No one wants whatever truth you have to say,” Archie shouted, “No one wants to think that way!” He was almost rid of her, he just needed to hold out a little longer. But she was so infuriating!
“Well, I’ve sold thousands of books that would say otherwise,” she sobbed. She couldn’t believe what she was saying but she knew she was right. The crawling started again beneath her skin. No, no, no. It felt like worms slithering and biting their way to her heart. It never came back this quickly.
“I would disagree, my love,” Archie spat, “Anyone would buy any horrible little book written by any girl as pretty as you.” He smiled on the last words as earnestly as he could.
Clara flinched at first but melted to the touch. No, no, she shouldn’t, but he means the best for her. He is much older, he knows this world, he must be right. He knew Florence until the end. But Florence is gone. She is gone but did she live? Clara knew she wanted to. She desperately wanted to live. Why must she have left so suddenly? What must she have left Clara here? Oh, please Florence, come back and save her from this coffin of a world. A world that makes her feel a crawling beneath her skin. A world with men with full pockets and soft fingers that grip too tight. Clara tore her hand from his.
“You are not my love,” Clara said. Her tears continued to pour down her face, “Florence loved me, not you.”
Archie smiled gently despite the fire burning in his chest.
“Oh, is that true, darling?” Archie said as gently as he could muster, “Did she tell you that herself?”
“Don’t talk about her,” Clara spat. But did Florence ever tell her she loved her? Despite their long nights talking. Despite the cigarettes and wine. Despite the soft kisses they shared. Clara searched her mind, and she couldn’t find the words. Did she love Clara?
“All I’m saying, my love, is she definitely said it to me,” Archie said slinging his bag over his shoulder, “When her tongue was down my throat, she said it all the time.”
Clara felt woozy. Pains kept banging against her heart like a drum. Did she love Clara? She sniffled, “You’re lying. I loved her. She kissed me.”
Archie reached out and hugged Clara to his chest. She trembled beneath him. A smile overcame his lips. “You know I would never lie to you, my love,” Archie whispered.
Theodore jumped to his feet and circled around Clara’s legs. He hissed at The Beast.
Clara lifted her head carefully. She looked into his beady brown eyes. She felt her skin crawl against her. Did you live? “You do not love me and I never want to see you again.” The words did not feel like they came out of her own mouth, but her lips were left agape.
Archie only smiled his big toothy manager smile and placed his hand on the doorknob. “You will learn to cooperate with me eventually,” Archie said softly. “Now please feed your cat.”
Archie left into the bright mid-morning. The town square was bustling with a farmer’s market. The bright light of the day beat down on the faces of the passersby, making them squint and hide their faces. Clara stayed inside.
She felt nothing. She did not want to be part of the day. She wanted to lie in her bed. She wanted this itching beneath her skin to stop. She wanted the pains in her chest to whither away.
The sun continued to pass overhead, making people sweat and burn. Meanwhile the plants sang in joy, stretching up towards the light to heights they had never reached. The squirrels and chipmunks bounded up the growing branches. For they had never been this high either, but there was always a hawk overhead. They could only leave their new heights if they were to become what the hawk most desires. So, they wait as the sun begins pass overhead. As it returns to the pinks and oranges. Until they can escape to their boroughs in the shadows.
Theodore watched the chipmunks squirm outside the window. His stomach felt emptier than ever. He bounded towards Clara’s bedroom to ask her yet again to feed him. He hated being annoying, but often when she’s in a writing slump, he had to become a little bit pushy. He didn’t jump on her bed this time. He instead scratched the doorframe, tearing up the wood on the walls. Clara jolted upright and began to shoo him away. She hated when he did this. He always just wanted attention, or he was hungry. Oh no! He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten. A pit dropped in her stomach as she looked at her dear boy’s hungry eyes. She was horrible. She was horrible and she knew it.
“I’m sorry, sweet boy,” she gasped and scooped him up in her arms, carrying him to her kitchen.
She opened the fridge instead of the cabinet. Theodore deserved so much more than the canned food she succumbs him to. She pulled out any meat she could find and placed it on the floor in front of him.
“This is all for you, sweet Theo,” Clara said. She loved him dearly. She loved him so naturally. There was nothing she could do to make him believe that. She could never make anyone believe that, could she? First Florence, now Archie? She could not lose her dear Theodore, too. She felt the crawling again. It was so strong, so urgent. It ran to her heart, reminding her that its beating. What have you done with your life? It asks. She does not know. Florence would know. Florence would sit with her and tell her she feels the same. She would pour her a glass of water and listen to her cry. She would put on their records and dance with her around the kitchen. Nothing was forced or grabbed. No hips or smiles. Only soft kisses that didn’t lead to anything more and a hand held in the dark so only she could feel it. The crawling felt nice then. Smooth and watery and warm. Oh, how she wanted that back! That feeling scraping her insides, streaming through her heart. She wanted to live!
“Sweet boy, we are going to take our life back!” She exclaimed to the cat. “It’s just you and me.”
Theodore loved her so vividly. He stopped his feasting and rubbed against her ankles, purring so naturally. He never forced himself to do so. It always came naturally.
Clara sat down next to her cat smiling delightfully, petting him vigorously. She loved him so dearly. Nothing helped her write better than his comforting stare. Nothing calmed her down more than his loving purr. He met her in the mornings and made her get out of bed. And she cared for him! She had worth! And she knew that he loved her. In that moment, she knew that he loved her, and she felt like screaming from happiness. Oh, she is loved! She is loved! Finally love again. How long has it been since she had realized such a thing. She has had this sweet boy for years yet only now has she realized that she indeed has so much love for him. How selfish can one be to ignore such a wondrous feeling? How horrible to give such a being expired food? How could she have done this? What has she done to this poor creature. She must tell him or else he must not know.
“Sweet boy, I love you so much!” She screamed into her cat’s face. And she found tears pouring down her cheeks. And the crawling came back. It was so much worse than anything she had ever experienced before. From her arms, her legs, from her brain itself, the worms and ants under her skin bit their way towards her heart. She started to sweat. She wanted to scream but there was nothing but pain left in her body. Her heart screamed in agony. She loved Florence why couldn’t she save her? All she does is cause pain and pain and pain. This is what she deserves. She knew it to be true – no she did not! She had love she knew she did. Florence was love. It must have been love. Is this what this was? The heart is too weak for grief. The heart is too weak. Her heart is too weak. She could not think. Her brain was being bitten away, but she could hear the words she dreaded over and over and over again. Did you live? Did you live? Did you live? She was not sure. She didn’t think so, but maybe she did. Her heart was beating too fast. It was too much. And then it stopped.
Everything stopped.
The pain.
The crawling.
The words.
It all stopped.
Theodore’s purring was the only noise left in the room. He butted her shoulder with his head. She did not budge. She was getting cold. The night was coming, which usually meant the apartment got cold at this time. Theodore knew Clara would want to stay warm in the night. He curled up under her arm, purring softly. He enjoyed protecting Clara from the beasts of the night. He enjoyed sleeping beside her. Theodore was glad he was the one there to keep her warm.
And the sun set beneath the apartment window. It set past the horizon line of the town square. The mourning doves went to lie in their nests until the next morning would come. The owls starting hooting. The air began to chill. The stars peaked out of a purple blanketed sky. And the day ended in silence, as it always does.
