Chills of the Wind

The wind chime clinked together outside on the balcony. The winter air gave a wispy chill by the looks of the goosebumps on her arms. She never wore a long sleeve tee, her arms needed no restriction. She wrapped herself with a tartan cotton blanket and immediately felt at ease as she sat crossed-legged on the brown coloured sofa. 

It was her favourite show on the tv, Bargain Boyz. The show revolved around buying and selling goods at a bargained price. The two bald men on screen, one short, one thin, holding a vintage record player. The crank, a smooth brown, like its owner, had kept it in pristine condition over the years. She watched closely now, the blanket covering her red ears. The men on the screen had locked the deal with the owner. 

She jumped on the sofa as the show came to an end.

“If you want the best deals…” they started.

“Bargain Boyz!” we shouted in unisons and fell back laughing. 

“Why do you even watch this show?” I questioned. “Your kind is odd.”

She smiled as if she had already answered my question. She stretched her arms towards the remote control and groaned.

“I wish for a world where I had friends who’d watch trashy shows with me and turn the tv off for me,” she said, walking towards her bedroom.

I followed behind, she wanted a friend but I was her friend. I am no ghost who lurks behind the shadows. I exist, why couldn’t she understand that?  

Her room smelt of vanilla from the candle she had lit while she reluctantly picked an outfit out for work, the next day. A peach coloured top with a white plaid pantsuit was what she tried first, I shook my head in disagreement. The combination didn’t match her emerald coloured eyes yet she still kept it aside as an option. The next was a black sleeveless turtleneck, with a brown coat and dark blue jeans, I gave it a thumbs down but she kept it aside again. She chose some more outfits until she took out the one. A black jumpsuit with a long black and white gingham coat, it matched her chocolate hair, her soft small smile, her little diamond piercing on her button round nose and a mischievous personality.

“This is it,” I announced, nodding at the outfit. 

She shook her head and placed it back inside the closet. My words disappeared in the icy air as she chose the peach top and plaid pantsuit. I slapped my forehead with the palms of my hands. She could be so indecisive and so picky that it led her to the worse choices sometimes. 

She plopped onto her bed now changed into silk pyjamas that she had found last week when cleaning her closet. Her ears were turning red again, to keep it warm she wore her Minecraft creeper beanie. She opened the first draw on her bedside table and took out her secret treasure, a book about the stars above. Her pride and joy that she kept away from the clutches of the media. The ‘Invaders of basic people with a famous career’ it boiled her that she couldn’t leave the house without cameras in her face. 

I wanted to protect her, save her from their clutches. She acted like the shell of an egg but once broken she was just like a child looking for a world where she was amongst the fairies in the garden that grew flowers and the sweetest strawberry. 

“You know the sun is a dwarf star?” I asked. “I wonder if Snow White had any dwarfs named Sun?”

I laughed hysterically but she continued to examine the words on the page. 

“If stars don’t twinkle then why is the nursery rhyme Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars?” she thought out loud. 

Her fingers grasped onto the book as she got to the interesting parts of its passage. The candle had started to lose its spark, so she blew it with her warm breath. Her hair got into the way so she clipped it back.

 I spoke to her, and I told her what I thought was cool about astronomy. She smiled sometimes, or she seemed too interested to respond so I continued until the book was fallen on top of her as she dozed off into her dreams. I softly whispered in her ears the song I’d learnt as a seedling, all the elders used to sing them, to teach us how to help have a good night sleep. I Iayed down next to her as the lamplight flickered in the bleak darkness. 

She woke up the next day, next to me.

“Good Morning!” she said. 

“It surely is a good morning,” I replied, as she propped her book onto her nightstand.

“It’s going to be a good day, I can feel it,” she announced, twirling around the room. 

I laughed in response. I stayed in the kitchen while she did her morning prep. I left the ingredients for her favourite egg and cheese omelette on the countertop. I waited until I could hear her footsteps closeby. She walked into the kitchen wearing the jumpsuit I had picked for her. 

“I don’t know why I chose that outfit yesterday night, this is much more comfortable,” she spoke faintly, so I had to lean in to hear her sweet words. “Weird, I didn’t leave all this out for egg and cheese omelette this morning, or did I? But it’s good that it’s out, I’m craving some nice breakfast that’s not toast for once.”

Toast? I thought she liked toast, it was all she ate when she was upset and happy. The cooking took a while but she had the patience this morning. She said something inaudible as she seasoned the eggs. 

“You don’t like pepper!” I shrieked when she added some to her breakfast.

She took in a mouthful and made a face but kept chewing. 

“Pepper is awful but I should try and at least use a bit of its seasoning from time to time,” she thought aloud again. 

She did the wash up this morning and didn’t leave it for last minute. Her monologue was laying on the other end of the circled dining table. She never was the one to keep normal furniture in her house, it was all about the difference she could bring in her life.

She pulled faces as she practised her lines. It was her prepping mechanism before work started, every morning. She practised her lines over and over again with different facial expressions and voice tones but she couldn’t seem to get it right even when she did. 

“I can’t do this!” she sighed, her eyes filling up with droplets of tears as she dropped the pages onto the wooden floor.

“You can!” I was encouraged. “It’s a good day remember?”

“Maybe I was wrong, today is like any other day.”

“Can’t you hear what I’m saying? You can! Just believe and continue.”

She picked the monologue and tossed it back onto the table. She sat on her sofa and dialled the number of her manager.

“Hey, yeah, uh, I’m not feeling well, so I won’t be here for rehearsals today. Yeah, yeah, thanks,” she said as she got off the phone. 

She may not listen to my thoughts or my advice but I was not going to give up so easily. Although I may not understand her world and she does not mine, I was brought here for a reason, to help her find happiness. I may just be a figment of her imagination to her but I was here, truly here and only for her. If not today then tomorrow, she would pick her pages up and act again, for herself this time for us, this time.