Post by Abby Park on Dec 22, 2012 8:08:45 GMT -6
December 16, 2012. 10:00 P.M.
Smoke from a still-lit cigarette wafts upwards, blown to the corners by the ceiling fan currently rotating at a speed just below dangerous. The only light is the faint blue hue from a television, muted, sitting on a wooden stand pressed against a wall. There was an odd quiet to the room, the silence broken only by the metallic clinking of the fan's chain. Silhouetted by the television's glow was a body face down on a couch, an arm lazily laid on top of an end table; the fingers were positioned in such a way that made it seem as if they had just been holding something between the index and middle fingers.
The body on the couch stirred slightly when the silence was interrupted by the rather loud ringing of a telephone. Its volume was intensified due to the eerie silence but the figure paid it little mind; its stirring had ceased after the second ring. After all, answering machines were invented for a reason.
"Not here. Or I am and don't care. Won't call back but leave a message anyway," the voice on the answering machine finally kicked in. Even though it was a recording, the annoyance and anger in the voice was obvious. One of these days, the body thought, I am going to change that message. The only people who bothered to leave a message after such a rude display were friends and family. Ken Park had neither these days.
"Hey, Ken, it's Abby. I mean, er, Abigail. You're...probably not in. Look, I just called to tell you that...job I told you about at our last meeting? It went...it went well. Did you get the information I sent you? I wanted to look for you there but there wasn't really time. Can you do me a favor and tell mom and dad? Wait, no, it's not right that they hear from you. I'll tell them. Tomorrow. Anyway, I'll send you some money for the next one, alright? We should talk face to face, it's been too long, Ken. I love you. Good-bye."
Ken Park slowly sat up over the course of Abby's message. He ran a hand down his face and blinked several times while stretching his arms to either side.
"Information?" Ken asked, his voice gravelly, "The fuck is she talking about?" He stood up, his attempt at sleep officially ruined. Ken clapped his hands twice and the tiny apartment was suddenly filled with light. Ken himself was standing among a pile of fast food bags and bottles of beer; he was wearing nothing but his briefs, now two days old and starting to turn colors. He was extremely lanky and his face was sunken. The barest traces of facial hair were finally showing themselves. Ken lifted an arm over his head and brought his head closer to his armpits. Instantly he shot his head back, a foul look on his face.
"Christ, is it the weekend already?" Ken slapped his face and snorted, which lead to him coughing up a wad of blood-red phlegm onto the mirror. "Huh. Interesting color." Ken, still in his briefs, stepped into the nearby shower, letting the water cleanse his mind and body.
~~~~~~
"I love you. Good bye."
Abby hung up the pay phone with a sigh. Of course he wasn't there, knowing her brother he was probably out at some club plying his wares. Still, Abby was more than a little disappointed that he wasn't there to answer the phone, now more than ever she wanted someone to talk to. What good is winning if no one is there to celebrate with you?
Her mind still on the events of her match, Abby walked leisurely towards the nearby bus stop. One of these days, she told herself every time she waited for a bus, one of these days I'm going to get a car. And a cellphone. Abby slumped onto the bench at the bus stop, resting her arms on top of her black gym bag.
"Don't let it go to your head, Abby," she muttered to herself though no one was around, "It was one win. One. Try for five. Consecutive." Abby nodded her head with determination and lightly slapped her cheeks. She was happy, yes, but not content. Ken really should've been home; Abby would've felt a lot better about the night's events had he been there just to offer congratulatory words. He would've been the only one who would do such a small thing like that.
She knew she would have to call her parents at some point, if only to assuage their anger about everything. Would they be happy that things were going well, she wondered. Or would they just be angrier over the fact that her victory was over a male? Abby could hear the conversation now. Her father shouting about how the company should be shut down for daring to have a man assault a woman. Her mother would chime in about settling down and bringing Ken home. Or she would be in the background sobbing. Mother did a lot of that these days.
Her parents had to know. On that Abby was sure. Why was it that stepping into the ring with someone was so simple, but making a single phone call filled her with such dread? They were her parents, surely they would see her point of view.
That train of thought made Abby chuckle slightly. The day her parents accepted her choice was the day she would give it up.
"You gettin' on or you sleepin' here?"
Abby looked up into the eyes of a uniformed driver. She hadn't heard the bus arrive in all her thoughts. Strong things, thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm getting on. Sorry." Abby stood up, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. The bus was carrying handful of people, each one avoiding eye contact with the other passengers. Perfect. Abby flashed her bus pass to the driver and made her way to the back of the bus, her thoughts still on the inevitable phone call home. It was getting more and more difficult to enjoy her victory.
The bus drove on down the road while Abby joined the ranks of the late night riders, each with their own story that they would never tell. She was just another passenger, her eyes darting around the bus, too afraid to acknowledge anyone.
"One of these days," she said, her eyes quickly averting her gaze to the outside world, "I'm going to get a car."
Smoke from a still-lit cigarette wafts upwards, blown to the corners by the ceiling fan currently rotating at a speed just below dangerous. The only light is the faint blue hue from a television, muted, sitting on a wooden stand pressed against a wall. There was an odd quiet to the room, the silence broken only by the metallic clinking of the fan's chain. Silhouetted by the television's glow was a body face down on a couch, an arm lazily laid on top of an end table; the fingers were positioned in such a way that made it seem as if they had just been holding something between the index and middle fingers.
The body on the couch stirred slightly when the silence was interrupted by the rather loud ringing of a telephone. Its volume was intensified due to the eerie silence but the figure paid it little mind; its stirring had ceased after the second ring. After all, answering machines were invented for a reason.
"Not here. Or I am and don't care. Won't call back but leave a message anyway," the voice on the answering machine finally kicked in. Even though it was a recording, the annoyance and anger in the voice was obvious. One of these days, the body thought, I am going to change that message. The only people who bothered to leave a message after such a rude display were friends and family. Ken Park had neither these days.
"Hey, Ken, it's Abby. I mean, er, Abigail. You're...probably not in. Look, I just called to tell you that...job I told you about at our last meeting? It went...it went well. Did you get the information I sent you? I wanted to look for you there but there wasn't really time. Can you do me a favor and tell mom and dad? Wait, no, it's not right that they hear from you. I'll tell them. Tomorrow. Anyway, I'll send you some money for the next one, alright? We should talk face to face, it's been too long, Ken. I love you. Good-bye."
Ken Park slowly sat up over the course of Abby's message. He ran a hand down his face and blinked several times while stretching his arms to either side.
"Information?" Ken asked, his voice gravelly, "The fuck is she talking about?" He stood up, his attempt at sleep officially ruined. Ken clapped his hands twice and the tiny apartment was suddenly filled with light. Ken himself was standing among a pile of fast food bags and bottles of beer; he was wearing nothing but his briefs, now two days old and starting to turn colors. He was extremely lanky and his face was sunken. The barest traces of facial hair were finally showing themselves. Ken lifted an arm over his head and brought his head closer to his armpits. Instantly he shot his head back, a foul look on his face.
"Christ, is it the weekend already?" Ken slapped his face and snorted, which lead to him coughing up a wad of blood-red phlegm onto the mirror. "Huh. Interesting color." Ken, still in his briefs, stepped into the nearby shower, letting the water cleanse his mind and body.
~~~~~~
"I love you. Good bye."
Abby hung up the pay phone with a sigh. Of course he wasn't there, knowing her brother he was probably out at some club plying his wares. Still, Abby was more than a little disappointed that he wasn't there to answer the phone, now more than ever she wanted someone to talk to. What good is winning if no one is there to celebrate with you?
Her mind still on the events of her match, Abby walked leisurely towards the nearby bus stop. One of these days, she told herself every time she waited for a bus, one of these days I'm going to get a car. And a cellphone. Abby slumped onto the bench at the bus stop, resting her arms on top of her black gym bag.
"Don't let it go to your head, Abby," she muttered to herself though no one was around, "It was one win. One. Try for five. Consecutive." Abby nodded her head with determination and lightly slapped her cheeks. She was happy, yes, but not content. Ken really should've been home; Abby would've felt a lot better about the night's events had he been there just to offer congratulatory words. He would've been the only one who would do such a small thing like that.
She knew she would have to call her parents at some point, if only to assuage their anger about everything. Would they be happy that things were going well, she wondered. Or would they just be angrier over the fact that her victory was over a male? Abby could hear the conversation now. Her father shouting about how the company should be shut down for daring to have a man assault a woman. Her mother would chime in about settling down and bringing Ken home. Or she would be in the background sobbing. Mother did a lot of that these days.
Her parents had to know. On that Abby was sure. Why was it that stepping into the ring with someone was so simple, but making a single phone call filled her with such dread? They were her parents, surely they would see her point of view.
That train of thought made Abby chuckle slightly. The day her parents accepted her choice was the day she would give it up.
"You gettin' on or you sleepin' here?"
Abby looked up into the eyes of a uniformed driver. She hadn't heard the bus arrive in all her thoughts. Strong things, thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm getting on. Sorry." Abby stood up, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. The bus was carrying handful of people, each one avoiding eye contact with the other passengers. Perfect. Abby flashed her bus pass to the driver and made her way to the back of the bus, her thoughts still on the inevitable phone call home. It was getting more and more difficult to enjoy her victory.
The bus drove on down the road while Abby joined the ranks of the late night riders, each with their own story that they would never tell. She was just another passenger, her eyes darting around the bus, too afraid to acknowledge anyone.
"One of these days," she said, her eyes quickly averting her gaze to the outside world, "I'm going to get a car."
