Holly

                                                              Holly

         



                    Like every morning, Holly watched the sun rise from her balcony. She liked watching the city come to life. The people reminded her of marbles. Like marbles, they scattered in not-so-random directions and weighed much less than they looked. She took a long drag from her cigarette. The morning chill felt good on her face. She’d join the marbles soon; she had to be at work by 9ish.

         The front door closed with a thud. She didn’t know the man’s name. Hell, she couldn’t remember where they had met. She had woken up to him lying beside her, his hand around her waist. He was good looking enough, she supposed, possessing all the qualities a man might want—a chiseled face and a hard body, confident eyes and well-groomed hair. Something about him had reminded her of a high school boyfriend, though the man looked well into his thirties.

         The streets died down and the sun had fully risen. She went inside and picked out a dress. Then, she poured herself a glass of vodka and chased it with a Diet Sprite. 

It was 8:45. If she left now she’d be only a few minutes late. She drank from the bottle straight, not bothering to wash it down, before leaving.

         The week passed quickly, and it was Friday night. Holly sat at a bar, stirring a Redbull with vodka that had too much ice. The place was crowded, and some shitty band was playing that gave her a headache.

         A man reeking of alcohol sat himself in the stool beside her.

         “I like your boots,” he said, “they’re real pretty.’

         She rolled her eyes and chuckled, signaling the bartender for another drink.

         “Aw,” he said, leaning towards her, “why you gotta be like that, babe? Ain’t you here all by yourself? Don’t you want some company?”

         “Not from you.”

         She thanked the bartender, put a few dollars on the counter, and left.

         “Don’t be like that!” the man shouted after her, “I’m a nice guy, just give me a chance.”

She stood outside of the bar and had a cigarette. The street buzzed with nightlife and the blinking signs of the other bars and clubs worsened her headache. What a terrible Friday night, not one interesting person, she thought.

She’d decided to go home when she heard a voice say, “Out here too because the band sucks ass?”

She turned to him and giggled. He wore tight jeans with a leather jacket, and his hair was sleeked back. He looked like he stepped straight out of Grease. But, his cologne smelt awfully good and he was cute. She gave him a chance.

         “Something like that.”

         “Everything all right?”

         “Sure. Why do you ask?”

         “Dunno,” he said in a muffled voice, lighting a cigarette. “Guess you look kind of sad.”

         “Oh. Well, no, nothing like that.”

         “Good. Life’s too short to be sad.”

         She giggled again.

“What’s so funny,” he asked.

         “That was so corny.”

         He smiled. “You like that? It usually works.”

         She shook her head. “You’re going to need to try better than that.”          

         “Well then,” he said, “can I buy you a drink?”

         She shook her head again. “Not thirsty.”

         “Uhm. . . name’s Dave.”

         “Much better. Holly.” They shook hands.

         For the next several hours Dave and Holly talked and bar hopped. They’d grab a table, exchange stories with laughter, and then run off to the next place. They probably seemed annoying to everyone else, like a pair of teenagers that didn’t care about the rest of the world. Holly didn’t mind. It was the first time in a while that she could admit she was having fun.

         As the night went on, the bars started thinning out and eventually began to close.

         “How far away do you live?” Dave asked.

         “A few blocks; I’ll call a taxi.”

         “Nonsense! I’ll escort you.” He offered her his arm and she took it with a smile.

         The walk home was like any drunk walk home.

         “Here I am,” she said.

         “This was fun,” he said, “I’d love to do it again some time.”

         “Sure,” she said. She went up the stairs of the complex and looked back before opening the door.

         “You want anything,” she said. “I made pasta earlier. Have Pepsi too, and you have to meet my cat. You said you were a cat person.”

         Dave looked side to side and fumbled over his words. For the first time this night he didn’t seem sure of himself. “Uhm, okay. But, I have to be going soon. I’ll say hi to Jenny, but then I gotta get going.”

         She giggled, opened the door, and then led him up to her apartment.

         “I haven’t cleaned in a while,” she said as she turned on the light, “forgive me.”

         She showed him her cat, and convinced him to stay for some food. They were standing in the kitchen, talking about nothing, when she grabbed his belt and pulled him towards her. She kissed him, but he recoiled and took a few steps back. She advanced again, but he backed all the way to the wall and put his hands up.

“The fuck?” she said.

         “I just met you! And I really like you, sorry. . . this is too soon.”

         She stared at him, unable to speak. Dave broke the silence a few moments later. “Look, I’ll call you sometime this week, okay? Like I said, I really like you.”

         “Out,” she said.

         “What?”

         “Out!”

         “Holly,” he said, approaching her. “It’s just too soon is all. I respect women, it’s how I was raised.”

         “Get! The! Fuck! Ouuuuuuuuuut!” Holly grabbed a dish and threw it at his feet. It shattered as he ran out of the kitchen.

         “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you insane?!”

         “She grabbed a pan and flung it at his head. “Out!”

         He ran for the door and barely escaped as a blender crashed into the wall.

         She stood panting, her fists clenched. She didn’t know what to do, so she burst into tears. Sobbing deeply, she collapsed onto the floor, among the broken glass. She lay there for a while.          

         Eventually, she rose and went to her bedroom, gathering her things. But, looking at the stuffed briefcase, she realized she had to leave everything here. She emptied it onto the floor and threw it against the wall, screaming as loudly as she could. Holly grabbed her car keys off the counter and left, slamming the door behind her.



         Holly moved back in with her mother. She didn’t know her father, well she knew of him, but she didn’t really know him. She decided to go back to school. There, she met a man and fell in love. Her mother didn’t like him, but Holly didn’t care what her mother thought. He got her pregnant, and they decided to have an abortion. Soon after, he left her, saying “it wasn’t working out.”

         One day, a few months later, she and her mother got into an argument over something so small that Holly would never remember what it was. The argument escalated and her mother told Holly to get out of her house. She’d never know if her mother truly meant it, or if it was one of those things you say but don’t mean when you’re angry. Holly never talked to her mother again.

         She moved in with a girlfriend she met at the university and got a part time job to help with the rent. She dropped out her senior year, after hearing of her mother’s death-- the doctors said it was from a weak heart, and moved in with a guy she had met at her job at the burger shop.

         He got her into drugs. Just weed at first, but she soon got hooked on heroine. She had another abortion, and was eventually arrested for heroin possession. It was a few days after her 28th birthday when she got out. They made her go to a clinic, where she became clean, but she was shooting up again a few days later. This cycle continued several more times.

         One day at the clinic, having been a few weeks sober, she looked at herself in the mirror. She saw her missing teeth and ratted hair. She saw the bags under her eyes and the pits in her cheeks, too. She couldn’t remember what she had looked like in her early twenties, but she remembered she was beautiful. Her boyfriend picked her up from the clinic. Unlike her, he had never tried to quit and had skipped out on all of his appointments at the clinic.

         She was in the bathroom, with a needle in her hand, but she again saw her face in the mirror and put it down. Holly got in her car and drove.

         It was night time, and the streets were empty, when she parked at the bridge. She couldn’t go through this again. She couldn’t watch more of her teeth fall out, or more cracks appear on her face. She couldn’t live with a man she had no feelings for.

         She climbed the guardrail and stared down into the blackness, listening to the rhythm of the waves. She cried, half hoping someone would drive by and attempt to stop her—to preach to her some drivel about how her life was worth it and that there were people that loved her. She remembered a man once told her that life was too short to be sad. He was wrong; life was too long to be happy.

She took a deep breath and leapt. Indeed, there was no hero that jumped in to rescue her.

She died instantly and washed ashore in the morning.

         

When her father heard the news, he felt guilty that he didn’t cry. He hadn’t known his daughter, but it was still his daughter. He didn’t go to the funeral—he had a business meeting that day.

         The funeral was a pitiful thing, with a few friends and relatives she hadn’t seen in years. Her boyfriend stopped by for a minute, leaving after making rounds and asking people for money. A few were brave enough to say some words, that she was a good person and that they had fond memories of her. But, after the funeral she was almost completely forgotten. Her father remarried and had two more kids, which he pampered to make up for the daughter he had abandoned. Her boyfriend died from an overdose a year after her death.

         Dave would remember Holly, even as he grew old. He’d remember the woman with the cute smile who could see through all the bullshit. She never returned his calls, and he heard she had moved the day after she had met him. He wished his wife was more like Holly.