Thrills and Anguish

Looking around apartment 2B, Lana couldn’t help but find herself overwhelmed with the desire to self-combust. Her beat-up couch was currently shrouded in a number of fabrics and clothing of which she really had no need. As she slid her socked feet through the expendable piles that littered her tiny studio, she recalled a time, that seemed like eons ago, when she was content and never wanting for anything in this world. Just last year she had been in the best place, that was until her gorgeous ex left her to her self-destructive ways, causing this ripple of doom to emerge and consume her soul.

Lana slumped into the lone folding chair that sat before her unsatisfactory table, with a bowl of dry cereal - who needed the milk anyway? - and focused her attention on the white-washed wall.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the screen of her cell phone light up with a missed call. In a slow, strained manner her slender fingers reached out from her over-sized sweater. With her index finger she dialed her voicemail and pressed the speaker button. Her psychiatrist's voice emanated from the device with all it’s usual charm and practiced elocution.

“Lana, this is Dr. Gelding. Just checking in. It has been eight weeks since you missed your last appointment - with no word. I truly believe you were making considerable progress and you would benefit from more sessions. I hope to hear from you soon Lana.” The woman’s voice paused before adding, “You deserve happiness.”

As the phone went quiet, the walls began humming in the sudden silence. Lana muffled the unwelcome barrage of silence by clapping sweater-engulfed hands over her ears. She let out a howl of frustration and ran for the front door, grabbing her messenger bag from the coat rack. The door crashed closed behind her as she collided with the glass exit, suddenly in the midst of a breezy, sunlit day in the city.

Lana turned into the bustling foot traffic, clamping her bag close to her left hip, eyes downcast. Dr. Gelding claimed she was suffering from a number of disorders. She felt like some specialty sandwich with all the fixings. You want a little bit a this? Maybe a bit of that... how about a sprinkle of everything in between? The more the lunatic doctor placed on her shoulders, the less Lana wanted to do with her - that was why she had decided to quit her therapy and meds cold turkey.

To be honest, Lana hadn’t always been this way. Then again... maybe she had been, but recent life altering events had aggravated her condition. It probably didn't help that she’d been brought up by a less-than-appropriate role model - a.k.a her dead-beat father - but she had loved that man with such intensity. She would have moved heaven and hell for him and she did try; her early life revolved around that misplaced figure.

On the bright side, she never chose to tread the path of her father. Lana was no alcoholic, pill-addicted loser; no... no, she was a run of the mill scam artist, happy to bruise a few egos, that was until recently. This past year had not been kind to her; karma was a bitch after all.

Ahead of her there were two illustrious-looking ladies. The one on the right had a gorgeous soft-pink Chanel purse with a gold link-chain strap slung over her left shoulder. Victim number two wore a skirted khaki trench coat that flowed behind her at the perfect angle to slip one's hand into the concealed pockets within.

With chin still tilted into her slim, sweater-laden chest, Lana closed in on the women, feigning ignorance when she finally collided with Chanel, hand quickly snatching a coin purse, as well as something long and thin, from the outer pocket of the purse.

Without a stutter in her flowing movements, Lana spun quickly upon her left foot, feeling like a beautiful ballerina for that split second. All the while, her right hand dropping the hi-jacked items into her own bag. Her quick turn and body placement panned out perfectly as her upper right arm slammed into the other woman’s shoulder and she was able to easily remove any items from the shorter woman's pocket.

Finally, Lana pretended to stumble, allowing her the chance to conceal her new-found loot. With all said and done, she turned back to face the women, apologizing quickly before hurrying past them and taking a left out of sight, leaving them in world of bewilderment.

Smiling to herself, Lana contained her excited laughter. It was the rush she had needed. It wasn't as if she needed to steal anything. At this point in her life, it was all about the thrill. She'd been a petty thief since she was old enough to walk; her father had planned it all out back then and helped Lana to become the best of the best. He always said her tiny, thin fingers were the perfect instruments for the job; who would notice if she skimmed a bit of hard-earned money for the poor and needy? Back then she’d done it for him; she believed in the Robin Hood trade of honor: steal from the rich, give to the poor - or in this case to her father.

Her fingers had obviously grown since those years, but they were still thin and spindly; still perfect. How could she resist the thrill of stealing hidden treasures? She absolutely coveted the feeling that accompanied her escapades: butterflies in the stomach, bigger than life, skin tingling, floating on air - it was all worth it to Lana. And it was all she had in this world now.

It was twenty-one months now since her father had died of the inevitable liver-failure. However, as unsurprising as it had been, Lana still found herself slipping towards that all-consuming downward spiral. Alexis, her girlfriend of eight years, had been by her side through it all. The woman was her emotional rock in an ocean of misery; her ultimate saving grace.

Lana ruined it. She was the only one to blame really, and she knew it; why else was she plummeting ever faster down the rabbit hole? Why else would Alexis have abandoned her in her time of need?

As the thoughts began to infiltrate her mind once again, Lana slowed her pace and soon found herself backing into a small alley. It was a good spot for her to be alone; to straighten out her head; to rummage through her latest findings.

Sticking her hands into the messenger bag, she came out with the coin purse she lifted off of Chanel. She unclasped it and dumped the minimal contents into her palm; all bits of change, but also something surprising. Lana’s eyes grew wide and her heart sank slightly as a sense of remorse flooded her to the core. It was an exquisite sapphire ring; the stone was not large, but it was embedded into a beautiful silvery gold filigree setting. Lana held it up to the sliver of sunlight seeking her out in the alley and it glittered magically between her thumb and forefinger.

The remorse faded as quickly as it had infiltrated her system. Her chest expanded with an excited intake of breath. It was utterly gorgeous, and it was now all hers.

With a renewed sense of being overloading her body, Lana marched out of the alleyway, ignoring the rest of her treasures. She retraced her steps to the apartment, twiddling with the ring around her finger all the while.

However, instead of retreating into the disagreeable apartment building, she turned left and crossed the street. The one thing she loved about her living arrangement, more than anything, was the fact that there was a twenty-four hour diner right across the way.

It was currently midday, so Lana simply grabbed a seat at the coffee bar to avoid waiting for an open table. Gloria was serving the average joe two stools down. Lana grabbed a menu, pretending to peruse it while she waited for her friend - probably her only friend at this point - to take her order. Gloria was a forty-something waitress by day, overactive Tinder queen by night, and always chock full of the best advice that Lana usually took for granted.

Lana put down the menu as a steaming cup of coffee appeared. She tried a small smile for Gloria and scooped up three equal packets. As she shook the packets in an attempt to reserve all the sweet crystals upon opening, her new ring bounced light fragments over the bar. Her friend leaned forward with a small intake of breath, “Well, well now. Who'd you steal that nice piece from girlie?” Gloria's well manicured eyebrow quirked up in a ‘what am I gonna do with you’ fashion.

Evading the questioning stare, Lana ripped open the sugar packets and added the contents to her mug. She brought it to her nose and inhaled the delicious aroma, took a sip and smiled coyly. “I found it in my dresser drawer. If you must know. I think Alexis might have left it behind.” She held up her hand at a distance and tilted her head slightly, examining the ring. “You know, I don't see how anyone could say no to such a classic.”

She finally met Gloria's gaze. The waitress's arms were crossed over that over-sized stuffed push-up and a finger was silently tapping upon a muscular forearm; the distrust was obvious. Lana sighed, knowing it was useless to keep up the ruse. “I never can lie to you Gloria. Am I so transparent?” She fiddled with the ring as she clasped her hands together on the bar top before her. “My quack therapist called.” She let the statement hang between them, causing the air to sizzle like a dud firecracker. Lana squirmed, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden, wanting more than anything to throw her hot coffee on the floor and flee. She simply sat there, refusing to allow her internal struggle to win, waiting uncomfortably.

Gloria quickly turned and began making a new pot of coffee. “How long's it been this time?” The tone was clipped.

Lana winced. Why did she feel bad? Well, she did. Why wouldn't she? Maybe because she knew there was something wrong with her on some level. “A couple of months,” she replied in an undertone, but regained her composure as she ushered the conversation forward, “I really don't see what that woman can do for me anyhow. She's seen me all of a handful of times and thinks she has me all figured out. It's not like I'm some kind of junkie - or sleeping under a bridge. I think I’ve quite proven I can handle my own without taking a bunch of hoodoo pills and rambling on for an hour twice a week in some hoity-toity office to some uppity know-it-all.”

With her tirade over, Lana's lips quirked up at the corners just the slightest and her shoulders became more pronounced as she perked up on her stool. “Oh, and tell Enrico to scramble up two eggs with wheat,” Lana sipped her coffee before adding, “please.”

Gloria disregarded the girl's order. “I'm glad you have it all worked out hun." Lana chose to ignore the extreme level of sarcasm oozing from her friend's lips. Gloria went on, “Given your level of superiority, how’s about it you teach that bitch doctor the ways of the world?”

Lana knew she was being baited. “How about you do your job and fill me up?”

Gloria grabbed the coffee pot, filled up Lana's mug, and regarded her warily, “You trying to lose your only surviving friendship girlie? I won't let you push me away like the others. Your daddy, he was the king of lowlifes - trust me, I know. Yet here you are, barking up that same tree.”

Lana felt a low growl reverberate through her throat. “I am no...”

“Oh, woe is me,” Gloria over-dramatized the comment, back of a hand to an unblemished forehead, “Poor Lana, she ain't no drug addict. She just gets high off stealing... ain't no harm in that.” Gloria became serious, meeting Lana's gaze head-on. “Girl, you need to get your shit together, cause it stanks! Get off that high and mighty horse. Make amends. Join the ranks of civilized human society!”

Lana sprang from her stool and spluttered wordlessly at Gloria before turned on her heel. As words escaped her, Lana simply flipped the waitress the bird as she slipped out the door. Full of rage, and wanting nothing more than to slip off the ledge, she thought better of herself and bee-lined for her apartment.

Mrs. Winterby, the sweet widow who occupied 1B, was busy fiddling with her mailbox when Lana came hurtling through the swinging glass door. Her unsavory emotions followed like a cloud of turmoil threatening to wreak havoc on the building's foyer. Mrs. Winterby, however, paid no mind to Lana's frenzied state. The elderly woman smiled warmly at her neighbor. She was always so genuine. How could a woman going on four years without the love of her life always be so easy-going and kind? It baffled Lana every time.

Lana cringed at first as she found her arms pinned helplessly to her sides. Mrs. Winterby thought this was the moment to greet her with a hug? It did seem to be working it's magic though, and Lana eased into the embrace ever so slightly. Mrs. Winterby eased up and tenderly caressed Lana's cheek in the most grandmotherly way, “Every day is a blessing. Don't you forget that now.”

Lana now returned the smile. This woman was some kind of angel; always so gentle and wise. In all reality, she did have dementia and probably thought Lana was her own granddaughter who visited on a daily basis. So Lana leaned forward, playing the part, and embraced the woman once more. Her instinct however, led her to dip into Mrs. Winterby's pocket and delicately remove the lone inhabitant. The shape was jagged and small; probably woman's mailbox key. Lana accompanied Mrs. Winterby to her front door in order to somehow repay the woman for her nugget of wisdom.

Once she'd returned to her own place a floor above, Lana was no longer feeling monopolized by her hostile emotions. Lana felt a level of control that had been nearing extinction leading up to her encounter in the lobby. The sensation of the key digging into her palm was reflective of her own beacon of hope; a fog light in the midst of a never ending storm. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply as she stepped into the living space, and immersed herself in the sensation of her slowing heart-rate. Now look at that... she could do this; she had all the control in the world.

Lana opened her eyes and instantly regretted the action. Her heart was suddenly in her throat. Alexis was there - and she was just as beautiful as ever. Her hair glistened in the midday sun, back turned to Lana. She looked completely out-of-place in her sweater dress and high heels, a box tucked under one arm as she rummaged through the studio's expansive supplies. Being in Lana's apartment was like trying to sort through a high-end thrift store that had encountered a wind tunnel, though she herself had no qualms about the mess.

When she finally found her voice, it was raspy and full of exhaustion, “What are you doing here?”

Alexis whirled around, dropping the box in the process. Her eyes were wide. “Oh,” she huffed out the single syllable, leaning down to reassemble her things. “I saw you head into the diner. Thought I could grab some of my things before you came back.” She was still searching the messy floor, avoiding eye contact.

“Well..." Lana stomped a foot childishly and gestured towards the door, “get out!” Her calm was out the window and down the block.

The other girl was back to her feet, box in hands, giving Lana her version of a death glare; her fear had apparently escaped the confines of the apartment along with Lana's sense of calm. “Don't you take that tone with me Lana. You're the fuck up. You're the cheater. You're not allowed to be angry," her voice became louder with each pronouncement, taking on a dangerous tone. She shoved past Lana, hell bent on having the last word.

Lana let her go. She was right after all. Alexis was lost to her. Lana slammed the door, locking it violently. She turned back to the room, imagined grabbing all of her useless pick-me-ups and tossing them out the window. She could break some things and get all of these feelings out of her system for a little while, or...

She walked to her pitiful table and dumped out the contents of her messenger bag. She noticed the long, thin object she'd grabbed from Chanel was a nice fountain pen. From trench-coat girl she'd managed a ten dollar bill and a passport; Lana shrugged, it wasn't as if she could return the item. She reclaimed her seat from earlier that day. Her bowl of cereal sat untouched. Her phone lay exactly where she'd left it; absolutely ignorant to the day she’d been having thanks to it's unwanted message. Lana sighed and picked it up.