Day 357 – Folie a Deux – Part 29

Word count: 1039

James woke with a thrashing headache. He was in the middle of his garden. It was frozen outside. There was a fine coating of frost on the lawn. Snow was falling lightly from a heavy grey sky. His arms and legs were stiff and the tips of his fingers were numb. There was a big black hole in his mind where his memory of the night before had been. Quite why he was lying here he had no clue. Quite for how long, he could only guess.
Miranda would be going nuts if she saw him right now. He hoped to god she was not out looking for him. It was already well light – but it could not be later than mid-morning… could it? He got up and scraped the dirt from his backside, which was also frozen solid. His back ached. Had he been drinking? Who knew: he felt like it regardless.

Staggering back to the kitchen back door he saw a few squirrels scurry across the lawn. He opened the door and bathed in the warmth for a second before shutting the door very quietly. In a hopeful moment he was sure that he had managed to get in unnoticed, but then the glass-shattering squeal of her voice scratched the surface of his cranial chasm.
“Where have you been all night?” The words could not have been sharper than if her mouth was projecting daggers.
James had no answer. He couldn’t answer – truth or otherwise, he could not physically answer her. Frightened rigid, James could not possibly even come up with an excuse.
“Right, so up drinking again? Up with Jonny or who else?” Her words were dripping with spite.
“No, no!” James begged her, but she was already leaving the room. “Please don’t go.”
At the doorway she turned, “You know what? It is three days into the New Year. I’m going to wake our children up and feed them breakfast. I’m going to spend all day looking after them and teaching your son how to ride his new bike. I’m going to do all those stupid little family things that you deem to be too unimportant for you.”
“Don’t be like that…”
“Like what? Like a sprawled mess out in the lawn – what were you on? Drink? Drugs? I thought you were different, obviously I was fucking wrong.”
James grabbed her hands, “Please believe me when I say I have no idea how I got there…”
“I’m sorry, believe you? What were you – abducted by aliens? Nice one, James. Real smooth. Way to save your failing marriage!”
“Miranda, don’t be like that – please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m fucking up recently. I’m trying – I really am.”
“Trying? You shouldn’t need to try.” Miranda’s tone was simply scathing now.
James looked at her right in the eye, “The last thing I remember is being in the living room last night with you. We were watching a film. The fire was on… it was snowing slightly.”
“That was last night! What were you doing? We went to bed! Don’t you remember that?”
James shook his head, “No… no I don’t.”
Miranda scowled, “Don’t give me any more of your shit until you can come up with a proper answer. Sleep walking is not going to cut it.”
She threw his hands away from her and stormed up the stairs, leaving James with a definite sense of loss. James had never seen her so angry. It was almost beyond anger. James could do nothing or say nothing. He could not tell her about these black out moments – he certainly could not tell her about the girl he was talking – at least he thought it was a girl. It seemed to be a girl’s room he was in, a girl’s body. She certainly would not take that lightly – I can’t remember where I was, I was with this girl that lives in my subconscious. He would definitely be murdered for that one.
Frustrated, he ran upstairs to his music room. He could hear his children getting up but did not want to be with them. He was not in the mood for yelling, giving attention and all the rakes of demands they would put on him. There was a time to play: this was not it. He sulked in his music room for a while, strumming his guitar and trying to think of a tune. He kept on playing ones he’d already recorded though. After he got bored of trying to invent something new, he rifled through his music notes trying to find a little tune he’d written down to expand on. There were piles of scrunched up papers that he probably should have thrown away years ago, but somehow had managed to keep. On them were scribbled notes of tunes that were long forgotten. It was interesting seeing them and trying to play them – knowing nothing of the time they were originally in. But it gave him comfort, playing something he had written a long time ago, as a different person.
James sat back and played a medley of all the tunes he had come up with today. He closed his eyes and let his head fall slightly to the side. When he opened them, however, something caught his attention. It was a note written on a piece of paper – in terrible handwriting that was almost like his own, but this message was not from him: it was for him.
Quite shocked at the contents, James’s throat swelled up, making him gag slightly. This was the most serious this thing had got. It was one thing passing notes to each other like in high school, but this question could and would change everything. It was asking for his name and if James told this girl who he was, the whole world might know within minutes that he was a crazy lunatic. They would shut him up; lock him up and never let him see his family again. At the same time, however, she, too, was in this. They were both mad, surely? Both equally mad. Still, how could he trust this girl with his life when he did not even know if she really existed at all?

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~ by S.G. Mark on September 27, 2012.

3 Responses to “Day 357 – Folie a Deux – Part 29”

  1. omg…one week to go! Ur gona find it hard to stop.

    • haha i know i’m already having bad dreams about failing with having only 2 minutes to write a story and i have woken up a few times in the middle of the night screaming that i’ve not done my story! last story is going to be epic though – i have a title for it already! collecting words from people to add in. basically if you tell me a word, i have to include it somehow in the story – so whats your word?

  2. pantheism. i ment Ur in such a writing groove i don’t think U shud quit at 365.

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