Read Online Slights by Kaaron Warren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kaaron Warren
Tags: Fiction, Psychological, Fantasy, Horror, serial killer, Memoir, dark, misery, disturbed, sick, slights
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neighbour over the fence. Then we both did it whenever they weren't home.
The people were still at my house at midnight. Is that what people do at other people's houses? Maria had drunk so much wine her teeth were stained red, but she still put on her pose of being mature and in control.
Lee came through the door. He'd been at the pub; he'd told me he wasn't going to show up. Their mum wouldn't let Tim come, even though he wanted to. Lee and I shared a good friendship. Neither of us expected or demanded anything. We weren't disappointed with rejection or overjoyed with acceptance; we just carried on. I like things that way. I like to be able to do things if they need doing, and not have people beholden to me. I hate it when people think they owe you something. Lee and I liked to go out to pubs, to sit quietly and drink. We never felt we had to talk to each other. We had been going out for a couple of years, since his 16th birthday, when it was legal and we didn't have to worry about being caught.
Lee took one look at the scene in my house and said, "Let's go down the pub." Brilliant suggestion. I didn't say a word to Peter, snuck out the back door. No one noticed.
The pub was full, rowdy, almost too much. At least no one knew me. No one would tell me how sorry they were. I watched Lee's face slacken and redden, watched the people around darken or lighten, depending on who they were. I liked using drunkenness as an excuse, too; you could get away with anything. Knocking people so their drinks spilled everywhere, stepping on people's toes.
I was coming back from the toilets and there was this tall, blonde man standing alone at the bar. I fell against him, he grabbed me. I reached up and kissed him. A big, sweet bourbon kiss.
Lee saw it, but he wasn't confident enough to come over and make a claim. That wasn't my aim; I didn't want him jealous. All I wanted was the feel of this big man.
He was there alone; that was the two sentences of conversation we had.
"Are you alone?" I said.
"Are you?" he said. I nodded. He took my hand and we left. My house, people gone. He was gone in an hour, maybe two.
The next morning I went out and uncovered more treasures. I found a damaged glass cufflink, a pair of half-rotted Spiderman underpants, a bath plug and a tiny silver spoon. I was inside washing the things in the laundry sink when I got a phone call from a local department store. Tim had been caught shoplifting, and he told them I was his sister. I guessed didn't want his parents there to ream him out so I went along with it. I caught the bus to the store, put up a good case; the police hadn't been called, so I knew we were dealing with a bit of a softie. I said how good Tim usually was, for an eleven year-old, how Dad had lost his job and we were struggling. I said it was Mum's birthday soon and Tim was probably stealing for that.
"She has odd taste in music, then," said the manager. He fanned out some rough stuff.
"Oh, Tim," I said. "You shouldn't pinch stuff for me." We gave each other a big hug. I tried to fake crying but couldn't; in retrospect that was probably a good thing. Less is more, they say.
I offered to pay for the CDs but the manager wouldn't hear of it. "I hope your Dad gets back on his feet soon," he said, and that saddened me, because my Dad was dead and would never be at work.
We went home on two buses. Tim said, "Where's the lecture?" but I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, that's really something I'm into," I said. I grinned at him. "Listen, don't worry about it. It's just another event in the rich vat of life." It made me feel quite sad, though, talking about Mum's birthday and knowing she'd never have another. I was in the mood for a celebration. For her birthday one year Peter and I put on a special show. "The Elopement of Mum and Dad." We only did it once. Mum got too upset.
We both put on as many of our clothes as we could, and
The people were still at my house at midnight. Is that what people do at other people's houses? Maria had drunk so much wine her teeth were stained red, but she still put on her pose of being mature and in control.
Lee came through the door. He'd been at the pub; he'd told me he wasn't going to show up. Their mum wouldn't let Tim come, even though he wanted to. Lee and I shared a good friendship. Neither of us expected or demanded anything. We weren't disappointed with rejection or overjoyed with acceptance; we just carried on. I like things that way. I like to be able to do things if they need doing, and not have people beholden to me. I hate it when people think they owe you something. Lee and I liked to go out to pubs, to sit quietly and drink. We never felt we had to talk to each other. We had been going out for a couple of years, since his 16th birthday, when it was legal and we didn't have to worry about being caught.
Lee took one look at the scene in my house and said, "Let's go down the pub." Brilliant suggestion. I didn't say a word to Peter, snuck out the back door. No one noticed.
The pub was full, rowdy, almost too much. At least no one knew me. No one would tell me how sorry they were. I watched Lee's face slacken and redden, watched the people around darken or lighten, depending on who they were. I liked using drunkenness as an excuse, too; you could get away with anything. Knocking people so their drinks spilled everywhere, stepping on people's toes.
I was coming back from the toilets and there was this tall, blonde man standing alone at the bar. I fell against him, he grabbed me. I reached up and kissed him. A big, sweet bourbon kiss.
Lee saw it, but he wasn't confident enough to come over and make a claim. That wasn't my aim; I didn't want him jealous. All I wanted was the feel of this big man.
He was there alone; that was the two sentences of conversation we had.
"Are you alone?" I said.
"Are you?" he said. I nodded. He took my hand and we left. My house, people gone. He was gone in an hour, maybe two.
The next morning I went out and uncovered more treasures. I found a damaged glass cufflink, a pair of half-rotted Spiderman underpants, a bath plug and a tiny silver spoon. I was inside washing the things in the laundry sink when I got a phone call from a local department store. Tim had been caught shoplifting, and he told them I was his sister. I guessed didn't want his parents there to ream him out so I went along with it. I caught the bus to the store, put up a good case; the police hadn't been called, so I knew we were dealing with a bit of a softie. I said how good Tim usually was, for an eleven year-old, how Dad had lost his job and we were struggling. I said it was Mum's birthday soon and Tim was probably stealing for that.
"She has odd taste in music, then," said the manager. He fanned out some rough stuff.
"Oh, Tim," I said. "You shouldn't pinch stuff for me." We gave each other a big hug. I tried to fake crying but couldn't; in retrospect that was probably a good thing. Less is more, they say.
I offered to pay for the CDs but the manager wouldn't hear of it. "I hope your Dad gets back on his feet soon," he said, and that saddened me, because my Dad was dead and would never be at work.
We went home on two buses. Tim said, "Where's the lecture?" but I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, that's really something I'm into," I said. I grinned at him. "Listen, don't worry about it. It's just another event in the rich vat of life." It made me feel quite sad, though, talking about Mum's birthday and knowing she'd never have another. I was in the mood for a celebration. For her birthday one year Peter and I put on a special show. "The Elopement of Mum and Dad." We only did it once. Mum got too upset.
We both put on as many of our clothes as we could, and
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