Sophie And A Sunday

I’ve only done marijuana a few times. It was cool, at first. It feels like you're floating. You feel like you're inside the liquid energy of life, you know? It's just weird, like you are in a different dimension. I've been drunk before, it reminded me of that, actually.
I tried it with a friend of mine, and it was alright, nothing to write home about. It's the afterglow, when the drug has gone out of your system, that you know you've just left a different world. It leaves you with an overwhelming compulsion for more.
But, I'm lucky, in the way I'm not addicted. For my freind, however, that's a different story. And after he died from an over-dose, I swore I'd never touch it again.
From what I understand, the MJ that is around nowadays is much more potent than its predecessors. Unfortunately for me, I learned this the hard way.
I've never been arrested before. Occasionally, though, I did get quite close to getting caught. We had a stash of it, my friend & I, in our apartment. We only had a kilo of the stuff, but we had alot of pills too. They were hidden underneath a dodgy floorboard, beneath our rug in our bedroom. I rarely touched it. But, periodically I'd come home from work, & find him high and out there on the couch with his pupils two pools of black.
I told him he should have a limit of how much he took. Of course, I was worried. Who wouldn't be? But, he ignored me. His use increased.
And, one day, it all ended.

It was just another day. A Sunday, actually. He skipped going to Church. I went to town, shopping with a few friends. He said not to worry about him. Our rule was no taking any on Sundays. He broke that rule.
When I came home, I closed the door behind me.
I called his name, out of habit, not really expecting a reply. The blinds were closed, but I didn't think much of this. I brought my shopping bags into the bedroom. That's when I saw the floorboard moved. The marijuana was there, safe & sound, but I couldn't find the pills. I called for him. No reply. I was confused. Around the bedroom, everything seemed normal enough. As I had left it.
When I found him, I didn't know what to do. I just stopped & stared. My eyes didn't even prick tears. My breath didn't even shallow. But, my heart faltered.
I found him looking lifeless, beside the couch, in a pool of his own vomit. Dead.

~February, 2OO9.~

The phone rang. I didn't move.
My bones ached. I felt numb. Hollow.
The phone shrilled.
My glare on the off-white ceiling intensified, willing the noise to stop. My breathing was shallow. I felt lonely.
It's so lonely, when you don't even know yourself.
From the other room, a voice called, "Sophie! Answer the phone, will you?"
Slowly, I reached over to my bedside table, which took all my strenght. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear.

I answered, in a quiet voice, "Hello?"

"Good morning, is Sophie Knoxville there?"

I inhaled, "Speaking."

"Hi Sophie, this is Charlie Duell. I went to school with Joe."

"Oh," was all I managed to say, at the mention of Joe's name.

This Charlie's tone was empathic, "I knew Joe very well. I understand you two were living together?"

I spoke slowly, "We were flatmates."

"Right," Charlie said, "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Joe was a great man."

I nod, "That's what they tell me."

"Joe helped me through alot of things. He was almost a family friend."

"Good for you," I said, slight sarcasm in my tone.

"I only heard about him yesterday. I was devastated. I called so many people, trying to get to you, since you were one of his closest friends."

I sighed, "Great."

I wanted to hang up. He was wasting my time. All I wanted to do, was just to get through another day alright. But with all these people ringing up to remind me how much Joe is dead, it's kind of impossible. With each one of these calls I feel emptier & emptier inside. I found myself growing bitter & angry, feeling inadequate, not making any sense.
And it sucks.

"How was it?" asked Charlie, over the phone, "The funeral?"

"Well, where to start," I said, sarcasm stinging in my tone. "The priest was saying irrelevent shit about how much we'd miss Joe, and what a great man he was, and what a tragedy that his life was ended so young, and that he would stay with God in Heaven; which really wasn't true, since Joe was sort of a lying bastard & I'm pretty sure would rot in heII," I said nonchalantly, "His family showed up, to my surprise. I'd thought they'd be too busy throwing a party to come to their own son's funeral or snorting coke or doing ceremonal worshipping to Satan, or something. Didn't expect them to show, really. Hell, surprised I even showed. Everyone went up to pay their respects to the me, but could tell they really didn't give a shit, and were secretly hoping that they'd be first to the car park. Oh, the weather was great that day, by the way."

I wasn't trying to provoke this guy, oh no. I was just bitter. That's what has happened to be, over the course of four days. And I didn't like myself one bit. And, f I was this Charlie guy, I wouldn't be pleased to meet me.
I waited, expecting a dial-tone any second.

Instead, I heard Charlie's hesitating voice, "Well, I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I was in France, at the time, and flew over as soon as I heard the news. But, my flight got delayed. Terribly sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't worry, I'll tell Joe you made it your best intentions to get there," I said, no hint of sarcasm at all in my tone.

He seemed perplexed, "What? But--"

I hung up.
With a frustrated sigh, I lay back down on my bed, staring vacantly at my ceiling. I wished this could all end. I hated this. It's too much.
I wished I was Joe.

"Sophie?"

I hadn't noticed someone standing in the doorway. I didn't move, "What?"

"You don't have to be so angry all the time. These people are grieving too."

"I don't care," I muttered, turning on my side.

Footsteps came closer, until I heard someone crawling up onto the bed beside me. I sighed.

"Honey, I know this is a hard time for you. It's a hard time for everyone. We're all going through this, together. You've gotta stop lashing out at people who just want to pay respects, Soph."

"I'm not lashing out," I said.

A hand patted my shoulder, "Yes you are, love."

I shrugged her hand off of me roughly. I sighed.
There was an inept silence.

"I love you," said the voice.

Slowly, I went on my back. She sat on her knees, her hair tied in a loose auburn bun. Her eyes were bright, her smile soft. Her cheeks were a delicate pink.

I blinked, "Love you too."

"Want to go shopping?" she suggested, "It'll get you out of the apartment."

"I hate shopping," I groaned.

She frowned, "I know. But you've been in your bed for four days. It would get you away from all these callers?"

I contemplated this. "I'm good, Kay, really."

She just sat there for a moment, scrutinizing my expression. The light from the window made her skin illuminate an almost iridescent golden.

"You're beautiful," I said. I meant it.

"As are you," she smiled, dimples in her cheeks.

I looked away. I was conscious of being debased. I rarely open myself to people. Except Kay. And Joe.

I tried to change the subject, "D'you think it'll rain? Looks a bit overcast."

Then she leaned down, & pecked my lips, "You're not interested in the weather. Brighten up, love."

I kissed her back, "Don't count on it."

Kay gave a dulcet smile, her fingertips brushing over my cheek gently.

"I'll be back soon," she smiled, getting off the bed.

I didn't want her to go. "How soon is soon?"

"I'm just popping down to see Oscar to give him back his collander, love, I won't long."

"Promise?"

"Promise," she beamed, "Don't miss me too much, okay?"

"You're asking the impossible," I said playfully.
Which also happened to be the truth. I would miss her terribly. I found that when I am alone, I eat myself up in anguish. It just the feeling of being by yourself in the apartment. I feel like I'm missing someone. It's still not real.
I miss Joe, like I'm missing a part of myself.