Emma Castro's Story

Saturday.
Temp: 80 degrees
Weather: Sunny, Clear Skies.

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Emma groaned softly as the morning sunlight shone on her eyes, awakening her from a very comfortable sleep. Tightening her arms around the duvet, the young woman slid reluctantly out of the warm and inviting bed. Placing her bare feet on the wooden floor she winced at the coldness of the shaded part of the floor, slowly stumbling over to the curtains as Emma attempted to wake her mind and body up. Ripping the curtains open allowing the sun to pour into every corner of the room, illuminating pictures of her family and friends from home, causing her to smile.

Feeling a little more awake this time Emma chose today outfit which was a white and grey checkered top and a pair of black skinny jeans. Hanging the clothes over her chair Emma quickly jumped into the shower for a refreshing start to the day. Make up was applied soon after the shower since it was easier that applying make up or even forgetting about it after she got dressed. Drying her wildly hair and tying it up in a loose bun Emma proceeded to get dressed and walked downstairs.

The first port of call was the refrigerator, searching through the contents, Emma pulled out the Orange juice and cream cheese. Knocking the fridge door with her elbow, Emma placed the cream cheese on the counter and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured a glass of juice. The toaster was next of the list, searching the cupboard Emma pushed random appliances in order to find the toaster.

Heaving out a sigh she looked around the kitchen and there it was, right next to the coffee maker. Finding a bagel, Emma sliced it in half and placed it in the toaster taking a seat on one of the chairs placed in the kitchen. Something that she never really understood but when you had to watch good incase it burnt the chair was needed. Tapping her hands on her knees to the sound of the music Emma wondered who was getting up next.

With a ferocious yawn Magdalen rolled out of bed and planted her feet firmly on the floor ready to face the day. She crept over to her bedroom window while stretching the sleep out of her bones and opened the window wide letting in the melodic chirp of birds and the comforting sound of street traffic that she was so accustomed to.

With a close attention to detail Magdalen sifted through her wardrobe looking for something to wear in the comfortably warm eighty degree weather. She decided upon a pair of high waist shorts, her legalize gay crop top that showed her naval with a funky orange and purple bathing suit underneath, black leather sandals and a black purse.

Increasingly more awake now Magdalen left her room in her an XL shirt that said Players only love you when they're playing on the front in a fine script as she made her way to the bathroom to shower, and apply her makeup. Magdalen pulled her hair into a high ponytail and left the hallway bathroom pristine and perfectly primped.

"Good morning." The girl called as she made her way down the steps and into the kitchen where she found Emma sitting down on a bar stool conveniently placed near the terribly slow toaster. Maggie took a bottle of Voss water form the fridge and leaned against the frame of the door leading to the backyard that she slid open a bit.

"You look cute." She said to the girl trying to keep her inflection friendly rather than flirty but her averted gaze as the blonde's eyes met hers may have given it away. Idly Maggie took a cigarette out of her purse and slid down the wall, sitting comfortably betwixt the kitchen and the backyard. She pulled in a couple drags of the vapor and blew them out in puffs like clouds as she watched the Summer Sky.

I'd been up since four AM.

I pulled my hair back into a clump of a ponytail and tugged on my raccoon-black eyelids. I could only imagine what I must have looked like. There was a charming antique mirror behind me that I got at a yard sale two weeks ago, when I actually cared what my apartment looked like. I dreaded looking at it. Now, surveying my room, I wished I had matka here to yell at me. Art materials were strewn about in haphazard heaps; spools of thread lay unraveled next to loose pins and needles, charcoal sketches on tracing paper, patterns, fabric. And then my latest headache in the middle of the floor. The product of weeks of unexorcised demons: an asymmetric leather bomber jacket with dramatic thread accents and a tapestry lining, complete with a ghost pattern embroidered on the back. I stood back to admire it, pulling my tired hide from the wood floor for the first time in what seemed like years. How could I describe it?

Mediocre? Mediocre at best. I pushed the dress form to the ground, watching it collapse like Victorian dame with fainting spells. Now it thoroughly looked like someone had robbed my room. But the best part about living alone is you don't even have to clean up your own messes until you get sick of seeing them. I found the cold coffee I had left on the floor by my lamp and sketching set and chugged the last of it. Yellow light filtered in through the bamboo blinds, making stripes of warm glow across the chaos. I shuffled through the stuffy space and changed into something clean, feeling this dull buzz of dissatisfaction that hit me out of nowhere like a meteor strike. Why aren't I happy? I'm in goddamn Cape Casanova, the funshine capital of shirking off real life responsibilities. That's what I wanted, right?

I pictured JJ in the back of his cramped coupe, pushing my bare skin into the leather seat with the weight of his heavy body. Snow fell outside the car, burying Chicago in Siberian blankets. He buried his face in my hair and gasped like he was drowning, and I wondered for a moment if he would crave my scent twenty years from now, when nightmares drag him from sleep. In between pants he whispered, "You're... never... happy..."

His voice echoed in my head as I laced my sneakers in the doorway of the stillest living space in all of Cape Casanova. Stepping into the hallway felt like entering another dimension. I could hear life pulsing behind the other doorway, and I heard a sweet voice humming downstairs in the kitchen. I trudged downstairs, waving a quick hello to the girl who lived down the hall. Brandishing my carton of cigs, I slipped out of the house, nearly tripping over another of my housemates. I waved a silent greeting to her too, flashing my most photogenic smile. It dawned on me how cold I was. Mary? Martha? The African heat descended on my tough polar bear skin as I leaned against the side of the house on the patio out back. I stuck a cigarette in my mouth and struggled to light it. I could not, for the life of me, remember her name. I watched the lighter flicker and die about six times. Margaret? Melissa? Ronald McDonald?

Jesse Jackson

I slowly opened my eye. My room was somewhat dark; only the outside light barely filling the room because my curtains were closed. I slowly got off my bed and tried blinking the slip away as I walked towards my blinds. I opened the curtains and let sunlight fill the room. I slowly squinted my eyes as I glanced outside, seeing people going about on their everyday adventures. I trail my eyes on my untidy dark bed. I'll do it later I thought as I left the room and headed towards the bathroom. Sleep still pulled on my eye lids as I turned the faucet and let cool water run through my fingers. I cupped my hands and splashed some water on my face. Feeling more aware, I grabbed a towel and wiped my face. I looked up at the mirror and saw myself looking straight at me. Sometimes, at night, I would have dreams that every time I looked in the mirror, I saw someone else staring back. Call me paranoid, but I'm always expecting someone else to appear in the mirror. I shook my head, realizing how stupid I'm sounding. I see me; Jesse Jackson, the one with tattoos basically everywhere, the one with lame chocolately hair, the one that's standing here right now. I smiled at myself and left the bathroom.

I walked towards my room to change. I opened my closet and grabbed what I first saw; a black and white plaid shirt with a ripped jean. I quickly threw on the clothes and headed downstairs; feeling a bit peckish. Before a reached the last step, I heard voices trailing out from the kitchen. The others are awake I realized as I stepped inside the room. My mind quickly registers what was happening at the moment. That guy, Kenneth, just stepped out the kitchen, but Magdalen and Emma are still in the room. "Morning everybody," I say with a tiny yawn. I opened up the fridge and looked inside; taking out an orange juice carton. I poured myself a glass and put the cartoon back. I took a swig and set the cup down. Looking in the fridge again, I grabbed some bread and took a slice, inserting the loaf in the toaster which was already heating up a bagel.

Emma looked over as she saw Maggie walk into the kitchen, looking beautiful as ever. Giving a wave to her as she walked in the kitchen and walked over to the refrigerator "Good Morning" "Morning, It certainly is beautiful outside today" Emma glanced out of the window at the sun above. Checking the toaster once more she took a gulp of orange juice, The next thing that Maggie said caught Emma completely off guard "you look cute" The prickly heat of outside seemed to rise in Emma's cheeks, composing herself quickly she spoke " Thanks Mags, it's amazing what you can grab while your half awake in the morning. You look beautiful too." Emma gave a smile and looked back to the toaster to avoid herself blushing again.

Giving a glance into the cooking bagel in the toaster she sighed softly " I think we should invest in a new toaster, this one is slowing down" Looking over to the door as Kenneth walked in, he looked tired, perhaps he hadn't slept well? Emma's sleep pattern's depended on what shift she was working at the club. It all depended on how many DJ's were playing on the night, and if they were popular or not. Emma's sets usually lasted and hour or two so she would never get home until midnight depending on when the set started.

The next arrival in the kitchen was Jesse watching as he went in the fridge and pulled out a slice of bread placing it in the toaster. Emma smiled at Jesse and looked as her bagel finally popped up. Pulling out the hot bagel with her fingers, she yelped a little waving her fingers to cool them. Spreading the cream cheese on the bagel she stayed where she was sitting since everyone was in the kitchen she spoke " what's everyone up to today? Anyone fancy hanging out today? I haven't got to be at the club until 9 today so I'm free all day"

Opening her eyes to the morning tweets of the birds outside her window. Shirley looked up toward the ceiling, surely she has been here for awhile and she had always hoped that one day she'll wake up to same old ceiling she had, but then she stopped herself from continuing that thought. Surely she could just lay here and continue thinking about Washington, but then she remembered her deal with herself.

Getting up she walked out of her room and up the stairs to the bathroom. After spending a very long dozen of time in the bathroom she finally finished and walked down the hall. Everyone had already sat down in the kitchen ready for breakfast. Emma was chewing on her bagel while Jesse's bread had just hopped out of the toaster. Shirley directed a small smile at everyone else, before walking towards the refrigerator and grabbing the canton of orange juice out and closing the refrigerator. The kitchen cupboard creaked as she opened it to reach for the tall glass, she poured around a half a cup for herself before returning the canton back to the refrigerator.

After finishing the juice, she washed the cup in the sink and put it on the drying rack before saying goodbye to everyone. She then walked out of the kitchen and back up to her room to get ready for work. She would usually stay longer in the kitchen and try so socialize while having breakfast, but then since Saturday is her work day at the diner so she decided to have breakfast at the diner instead.

Walking to the diner in the morning seems very chill, everyone is still in their houses eating breakfast and getting ready for the day. Marilyn Beach remained empty when she walked by there were a couple of people passing by but again, not as busy as the streets of Washington. Upon arrival she looked up at the giant sign that said Elizabeth Hardy's Diner, it's time to get ready for another day here, wonder how long life like this will last.

Emma’s voice piped up from the kitchen just as I had gotten down to the last few drags of my cigarette. I sucked in a lungful of nicotine and watched a lowrider pass by on the cross street, blaring some rap music that rattled the back yard fence. I stuck my hand through the crack in the door and waved it. “I’m off today, Emm," I called, "And I’m not really going anywhere, so I’m down.” I peeked into the house, seeing Emma struggle to swallow a mouthful of bagel. She nodded in acknowledgement, chewing laboriously. I snuffed the cigarette out in the barren terra cotta pot placed conveniently on the back yard patio by the water spigot and entered the house, nearly tripping over Magdalen- Maggie- again. She looked up at me with a curious expression as she chewed the butt of her cigarette. Everything she did was charming. She made me feel bad just for existing. How the hell could I stand up to her perfection? One day I’ll be one of those callers on the local radio stations talking to the hosts about how I shared a house with the legendary Magdalen Drew, Mag-Donna, the most perfect human on Earth, and maybe I was a little special too. Maybe her brushing shoulders with me made her perfection flake off and infect me in small doses.

I made my way over to the breadbox and pulled out my- thank Jesus- untouched kanelbulle. I fixed myself a pot of water and waited for it to boil, observing my groggy housemates in their morning habits in the meantime. Absently, I picked granules of sugar off my kanelbulle and crushed them between my teeth. I listened to the hiss of the AC straining against the Key West humidity and the sound of unfamiliar birds chirping in the trees outside the sliding door.

In depressing old Chicago, the air would still be struggling to sweat out the cold winter. But here the world was nothing but green. I shuffled to the back door again and peered into the yard. An almost comical green covered everything. Healthy green grass, green shrubs, creeping subtropical plants, swamp plants, some palm-like plants that I hadn't been exposed to long enough to know the name of. I couldn't help but be glued to the calamity of nature outside that I had never shown much reverence for until now. The teapot began to squeal softly at first, and then violently, like a fussy baby. I was jolted from my daydreaming. I turned around in time to catch Jesse removing the teapot from the stove. “Ah-” I said, rushing over. “I totally forgot. Thanks.”

"Well I've got nothing to do today," I noted as I pulled out my toast; burning my fingers a bit. I ripped a piece off and slowly chewed it. Shirley soon walked in the kitchen, not saying much, just making breakfast. She puzzled me; I don't know much about her yet I'm living under the same roof as her. I understand that she's shy and doesn't talk much with anyone, though it would be nice to get to know her. I bit another piece of toast in thought. Shirley's voice saying good bye finally snapped me out of my trance. Before I could say anything, she quickly scurried out the front door, off to work. I quickly finished off my bread and took a sip from my glass of orange juice that was sitting on the counter. The room temperature finally taking a toll on the -now warm- orange juice.

I quickly washed out the glass at the sink; swishing the water inside then quickly scrubbing it down with dish-washing soap. Putting the cup in the drying rack, I wiped my hands on one of the mini towels. I turned around to find Kenneth looking through the breadbox, picking up a kanelbulle. I raised my eyebrows slightly. Since when has that been there? I've certainly never seen it there before, maybe I didn't look in the bread box better? I pondered at this thought as I glanced over to the stove; which had a teakettle making soft whistling sounds as it gradually warmed up. I looked up to the ceiling, thinking of some things all of us roommates can do together. I looked back at the teakettle, which was now beginning to get louder. I shifted my gaze at Kenneth. He was standing by the back door, completely oblivious to the teapot that was -what sounded like- screaming. I walked swiftly toward the stove and lifted the teakettle from the stove burner.

As I was about to move, Kenneth quickly rushed by my side. "No problem," I reply with a smile. I can't believe someone can just zone out an obnoxious thing and drift off in thought, I find the thought pretty entertaining. I handed him the pot. "Can I have a cup?" I asked. I'll admit it.. I've never tried tea before! I feel the tiniest bit ashamed of that fact. It's just that, back then, my parents never drank tea, only coffee. I mentally laughed at the thought, knowing that if I actually laughed out loud everybody would probably think I'm crazy.

"Can I have a cup," he asked. I looked at him curiously. Jesse struck me as a Red Bull type. Even coffee seemed to be a stretch. The calculated caffeine of finely curated Ceylon tea is light years apart from the ripped jeans and plaid he sported. But I don’t judge. "Yeah," I said. "Knock yourself out." I was so tired, I felt like I was floating. The only feelings that tied me down were dull aches running all over my body; my stinging eyes, my creaking joints. I felt like the Tin Man.

I placed the teapot on a metal trivet on the counter and instinctively reached into my pocket for another cigarette. The half-empty carton rattled in my pocket with loose cigs and I thought better of it. I’d been meaning to cut back. I don’t much care for lung cancer. I took two mismatched mugs from the cupboard and slid one down the counter for Jesse. He thanked me curtly and poured his cup first. I watched his profile as he carefully poured the steaming tea. He looked a lot like JJ.

He looked too much like JJ.

An aromatic scent wafted into my nose as the tea cascaded into the cup. I suddenly remembered how matka used to make me tea when I was little and stayed home from school sick. She would prop me up against her chest so I could feel her heart beating rhythmically against my back and she would feed me strong-brewed black tea with honey and lemon, to clear the cobwebs out of my chest and shoo the buzzing bees from my head. She would sing to me softly in Polish. I used to like getting sick.
I watched Jesse's face contort as he took a sip of the plain black tea.

“It’s better with milk and sugar,” I suggested. I tossed him a casual smile.

Usually at this time on Saturdays I'd be at work, but today one of the other assistant managers decided to take my shift for extra hours. His name is Ji-tae, and he's a short, soft-spoken older Korean guy who literally never loses his temper. He's goddamn superman. It seems to me like he can do nine things at once. I never see him working, but whenever I check, things seem to have magically gotten done. Even our GM asks for his advice on a regular basis, and he always has an answer. The common rumor is that he was studying linguistics at Brown but he couldn't find work so he moved to Cape Casanova to live in eternal paradise. I figured that's how it was with most people who live here. They were either born in Shangri-La or they found their way here because the alternative was leagues worse. At any rate, I had nothing better to do today than sit on my ass and play Flappy Bird and bake pot brownies. Same old, same old.

I rubbed the rest of the weariness from my eyes and poured a cup of tea for myself. "So," I asked no one in particular, "Anything in mind for today?"

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Magdalen watched as Kenneth passed over her, his startling green eyes locking with her own for a beat as she averted her gaze, silently chewing at the butt of her cigarette. She wondered if he knew how beautiful he actually was, probably not… what a shame she thought as she returned her thoughts to the idle conversation being made in the kitchen.

The kettle sounded, hissing gently at first and upgrading to a full on shout. Mag’s watches as Kenneth rushed over to the screaming pot that Jesse handed to him with a smile. The boys made small talk for a a minute or two, leading to Jesse admitting that he'd never tried tea before. Magadalen raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say Really! Who hasn't tried tea?. Magdalen barely drank the stuff but it sounded so odd to her that he'd at the very least never taken a sip. The girl watched as he put the cup to his lips and drew away apparently dissatisfied with the taste.
"It's better with milk and sugar." Kenneth spoke. Maggie laughed modestly.
"So, anything in mind for today?" Kenneth spoke after a brief moment of silence.
"Anybody up for a day at the beach?" Magdalen offered as she surveyed the room and then took a glance at her pale skin.
"I could really use a tan."

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