[Kaimee]: 5.Short stories.Spider

---

---

“You right love?”
A smile. A quick bite of pain and pretending, hollow eyes and glimmering teeth in the dark. I smile. “Yeah sure, just waiting”
“OK, you give us a yell in there if you need something right? My shows are on so you might have to stick your head in...”
In the oven. Kettle Katie, I wish I smoked. Wish I had some dark little path of self-gratification to give me an excuse to be out here, in the dark. To send up little plumes of mysterious smoke from the shadows, to make me a tiger, armoured by indifference.
Instead of the unwanted girl, sitting alone, outside, at night. All the attitudes and none of the fucking accoutrements, that’s our Kate.
The TV blared in the background, ruined my romance. I’m trying to feel mysterious damnit, shut the fuck up. There’s a spider crawling across the flyscreen door. I could kill it, smearing little perfect spider-guts squares through the screen, but I’m feeling kinda lonely out here, all attituded up, all armoured against advances. I need a little spider to love.
The gravel crushes, crunches, headlights sweep across the front steps. Deer in the headlight, and then they swing across and settle on my bare feet. I hide them under my jeans and give myself time to stub the imaginary cigarette out before standing.
“You took your time.”
“Wanna lift babe?”
“Don’t be fatuous. We’re already late for this thing.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
The screen door swings open and the landlady’s there, in all her aproned, greasy glory to wave me off.
“Drive.”
As the car swings off the curb I turn in my seat and look back at her. She’s scraping my friend’s little square guts out of the screen. I never really liked him anyway. He never bought the drinks.

“Sorry.”
“Mmm.”
“Fuck Kate, sorry.”
“Yeah.”
”Well? Don’t you have something to say to me?”
“No? Should I have?”
“Fucking walk then bitch.”
You ever tried to physically push someone out of a car? No? Well it's fucking embarrassing for both parties so I'm glad he didn't try it. But fucked if I’d embarrass myself by staying. Armour up again, and sallow smirking staining my mouth, I creaked the door open, can opener edges scraping my arm, and slammed it closed as hard as I could after me.
Violent you met me; violent I’ll leave you. As a sweet reminder of my kisses I press my gum under the door handle and spin away. Yeah, you’ll fucking miss me. You wont, you’ll find some other slut who’ll have your stoned self, who wont meet your eyes. I’m the only one who could meet your eyes. Too bad yours darted, shifted, hid. Too bad you couldn’t meet mine. That’s ok, I’ve forgotten you already.

Gravel at night, crunching, and everything feels bluer. I could have worn shoes but who notices shoes? I’m trying to be a cliché here for fuck’s sake, not sensible. I tiptoe my inching way across the shards until I can be seen. Appreciate the pain Kate, everyone has their quota, might as well eat yours up with sore feet. Tacky lights from the bar spill out the kitchen service door, and a handful of snarling waiters raise their eyes from their smokes for a second and then ignore me. Ignore, ignore, always fucking ignore me. Even while they’re fucking me they’re ignoring me. Stefan scowls at me and I kiss Christopher on top of the head as I pass, dancing by on raw feet, I always fly when I’m in sight.

“Are you fucking insane?” Hisses reach me – broken, I know she’s saying it, mustn’t listen.
I grope my way along the table edge, sharp edged wrists tumbling empty glasses, maybe full glasses. Oh, oh fuck, how funny! I’m not drunk you know, I just think it’s funny… stumbling my way towards a cut glass bottle of saving green dreams, oh no sorry, crystal. Hissing again, buzzing around me, interfering fingers cutting in fast and putting me off my balance, you made me drop it!
Blood. They cut my feet. You cut my feet! Hang on, who’s this? You’re hers? Does she hiss at you too? Low voiced laughter chuckles against my cheek. I hate that – that arm, around my waist, but he is hers, after all. Dear sister, sweet sister. I lean into him, hiss at her, laughter tumbling full of sex and mystery and ripeness out of my throat. I know how to laugh. I know how to make those darting hands stop interfering, how to put all her bitterness in her eyes in just two seconds. I’m fucking expert at this game.
“Don’t worry, you clear up this and I’ll run her home dear, don’t let it ruin your night dear, this is our night, don’t let her ruin it like everything else.”
Limp hands and pearl bracelets twist at her sides and I laugh at her, deep beauty pouring out my throat, she knows it and I know it and oh he knows it. She knows he knows it. I let them lie to each other and pat reassurances into place with a few parting words and a quick kiss on the cheek for his bride, before I swing outa there on his arm, looking back at my weak puddle of relation picking up a half-full glass and making it her own.

Darkness and fastness and one sweet moment, before he’s zipping himself back up again and telling me I imagined things, how’re things going with that boy I’m seeing anyhoo, what’s his name, Mike? Nick?
I’m sobering up. I can’t believe I fucked a man who says “anyhoo”. He probably “cheerio!”s her off to yoga every morning and “huzzah!”s when his football team wins.
“I’m not going out with him anymore, how much of a slut do you think I am?” Shadowy, angry executive eyes hold me across the dark, and his next words bring that stain of smirk and bite of pain to me as I pretend, once more, to be living armour.
“Honey, I think you are a fucking dirty whore, who no one loves. You just trod all over the one person left on this earth who gave a damn about you. You’re pathetic.” And with that he’s up off the bed and shooting his cuffs out, why’s he Mr fancy man tonight?
Oh yeah. Alcohol clouds clearing up and I smother a horror and hide it forever, he’s just some stupid fuck, how could she like a jerk like this?

“I hate you.”
“Have some pity Lara, I’m trying to be hungover here.” I turn away and study my eyes in the reflection of my phone. Bit bloodshot, definitely greener. A noise. What? What the fuck? My perfect sister is crying?
“He told me,’ – torn out of her, raw and jagged words, they cut at me. Armour up. “He told me you stupid bitch, he told me! Did you think he wouldn’t fucking tell me? Did you think he wouldn’t tell me how my selfish disgusting fuck of a sister tried to fuck him?”
I stare at her. Does she think I’m in 7th grade? I can’t remember the last time I only tried to fuck someone.
“Give over Lar, it’s early..”
“No! I hate you, you stupid bitch. Don’t you ever – don’t you come near us again. Just leave us the fuck alone, you’ve ruined everything else in my life I wont fucking let you ruin this for me too.”
Cold anger now, on a barely trembling voice. Red rimmed eyes and a set jaw, she reminds me of that time in high school when her missing boyfriend turned up in my bed.
She turned and left.
“Lara! I was fucking drunk, I didn’t know what was fucking going on. He fucked me for christ’s sake…”
Angry shards of gravel fling out and sting my toes as her car spins off.
I shrug. Old lady apron inside turns back to the TV too suddenly. I kick my toes through the gravel and blink at the stinging that's biting at my eyes. 
There’s a tiny spider on the flyscreen door. I let it inside. I figure I could use the company.

---

---

---

PLEASE add a rating (1-9) at the top of the page!

See ratings for advice, explanations, and instructions :)

---

Piece © Kate-Aimee Conrick. All rights reserved!