And then there was no more left , other than what she saw in her room.... an almost empty bottle of rum, a half burnt cigarette lying no more than a foot away from her and about twenty cigarette butts in the ashtray, her clothes on the floor.... an open closet which was so full of color.... that she felt repulsed by it. She got up, wobbly on her feet and walked till the mirror.... what she saw, should have shocked her, scared her, shaken her..... but all she felt was .... pity or may be it was nothing at all. Her neat little bun was undone and made her look like a deranged killer straight out of a bad movie, her mascara had left stains on her cheeks and her face, there were traces of a bright pink shade of lipstick on her lips, which were dry.... as dry as a dead,withered leaf , fallen from a tree in the dead of autumn...... she stood there in her black Chemise, one bright yellow stiletto on her foot, the other one she couldn't even be bothered to go look for. In fact, she could not be less bothered about life at all . Another Friday night had come and gone by and she had drunk till thy kingdom come, till all her senses had deserted her and she had left for a place of.... not knowing, not comprehending, where they did'nt have a place...her senses that is, a place where she did not have to use her head at all.
Another Friday evening that she had wanted to go home and sort out the storm that would hit her every Friday afternoon..... and like every other Friday since the last one year, she had ended up... going about town, with friends, co-workers, acquaintances or whoever would care to give her company .... drinking , dancing, coming back home, drinking more and passing out.
Still staring at the wreck she saw in the mirror, she felt she was looking at someone else..... anyone else but her, she was the prim and proper mumma's little girl.... who always combed her hair back, always tied them in a neat high pony, wore light pink dresses, light yellows or some other plain Jane, good girl shade. Someone who never raised her voice, someone who never spoke ill of anyone, someone who trusted blindly, someone who believed that life was going to be just wonderful. And here she was, a wreck, a quitter, a raging alcoholic, a nicotine junkie, anorexic, poor lonely girl ..... with clothes piled up till the roof in her house, shoes bursting out of her closet, no money in the bank, and a foul smell from the smoke that emanated from a burnt out dream in her heart... that refused to leave her."When did I get this jaded?" ... she thought to herself, " When did I give up on hope? When did I stop smiling? When did this life turn into this.... this, lonesome, unhappy, miserable mess ?" .... even though she was saying the questions out loud, she didn't want to think of the answer.... so much so that she turned around and walked into her bathroom.
About an hour long shower later, she stepped out, made herself some coffee, popped a few aspirins to rid her off the throbbing she could feel in her head..... "Sigh!! another hangover." , she said to herself.
She finished her coffee, put on a pair of khaki's a white shirt..... and it was hard to find, in that wardrobe , which she had stocked with bright bold colors of all kind, to hide the lack of them in her life behind. She picked up her handbag,her camera and walked out of the house .
It was a bright day outside, it was a wonderfully lovely spring morning. She was glad that she could still smile with the sun, at the sun, for the sun..... even as a little girl, she had thought that, the great big ball of fire in the sky was a friend, and she knew from then on she was always going to be a happy sunshine , morning girl. Lost in her thoughts she walked through the San Francisco Bay area Flea market ..... like every Saturday morning. She loved that flea market, all the used things she felt had a story to tell..... a story of who they use to belong to , of a love that no longer lived or at least of a love that had gone far away for some reason. She felt that she belonged there, just like all those things, given up by people, who no longer wanted them, or no longer could keep them .... and behind each one of them was a story..... just like her.And she loved capturing those sundry things on her camera.
Walking around, she walked to the cozy little cafe that she had made her second home for those first few lonely months in San Francisco. Jane the nice old woman who owned the cafe, was her mother away from home, the one person who she trusted blindly , with her life, her money, her dog ..Sharpie, and everything else she held sacred. She walked in, and Jane was more than happy to see her, and with one look Jane could tell that She had been drinking again!... "You better stop feeding all that alcohol and nicotine to that thin little body of yours..... you are so young, so beautiful, your whole life ahead of you.... and to think you haven't even fallen in love yet! When I was a young girl in New York, men would lie down on the street for a woman like you..." , " Oh Fran! please dont... not today! I know you love me, and you worry about me.But you don't have to try to get me to quit my life.. that is who I am. But I love you !" ..... She cut Jane off , before Jane could finish her song about, how New York was the place to be in the 70's and how She was not realizing what she was doing to herself...... She gave Jane a hug, and a peck on her cheek ... and Jane shook her head in exasperation, and asked her to sit down and went into the kitchen to make her a coffee.
She took the coffee from Jane, and told her she was going to go out for a walk and come back after an hour or so and they would have lunch together. This was her routine every Saturday. She loved the day, loved spending it with Jane and the people at the Cafe. As she walked out the door, Fran.... that is what She called Jane, because for her, Jane was San Francisco, for no one else in the city meant more to her,... glanced over her shoulder, just like a mother, looks at her child before she leaves the house.
She had barely walked a few feet from the cafe, looking at the clouds in the sky... she bumped into someone and spilled her coffee all over herself. Not seeing who or what it was, She yelled out, "Ohh my God!! would it kill you to look where you're going.... that's a 200$ Chanel shirt that you just ruined!!".... when she looked up, she saw who she had bumped into..... and she froze , her feet suddenly felt like they were made of stone, she could'nt breathe..... she wanted to scream, but her lungs failed her.
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