Chapter six: It’s gonna be okay

Trigger warnings for those who need them

substance abuse and dysfunctional eating

I’m watching the red spot at the end of my cig intently as it grows brighter with every drag and then dims again to a barely perceivable spot.
I’m laying on my bed in the dark. Head slowly going numb with the sweet smoke.
There’s a knock on the door followed by Benji shouting “Hey Valentine!” when I don’t respond.
I’m too busy living in my own peace and quiet.
“I know you’re in there you useless piece if shit. You got a visitor!”
Huh?
Why?
I can’t think of anyone who’d want to visit me.
Not after my fall from grace at least.
I wish they would just go away.
I sluggishly pull my cig from my lips to tell them how I feel when my train of thought gets sent off a cliff.
“Valentine?” The voice on the other side sounds sweet and lovely.
I practically kick myself off the bed shouting “Hold up!” through the door. I shamble to the knob to turn on the gaslight. Then drag a quick hand through my hair before opening the door.
“Hey Donna, it’s been a while.”
She looks perfect like always. Her flaming red hair tied neatly down with not a hair out of place. Her dress clean and freshly pressed.
But her perfect smile twists ever so slightly upon seeing me.
I wish I had put on a clean shirt.
And a clean pair of pants.
And shoes.
I know she’s disgusted by me, but she’s too polite to say it.
“I know, I wanted to visit you sooner but, well. I guess I never found the courage. I’m sorry.” She apologizes gently.
It’s been over a month.
Should I be angry?
Or just be happy she’s here now?
I shrug. “It’s okay.”
“How have you been?” She asks, playing with a frill on the end of her sleeve.
Benji huffs before heading back to his couch.
He doesn’t need to hear me lying.
“I’m fine.” I tell her without much conviction while pushing out the cigarette behind the door.
“Did you find new work?”
“Ye- yes I did.”
“Where?”
I bite my lip for a moment, thinking. “I… do odd jobs through a friend.”

“What sort of odd jobs?” She asks carefully.
Why does she want to know that? “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“Oh.” she sounds disappointed but I doubt she truly cares.
There’s silence for a bit.
“So, how are you?” I guess, I should at least ask her that.
“I’m okay.”
“And the theater?”
“It’s still there. We’re rehearsing for Mariella and the snake at the moment.”
I huff. “I take it you’re playing Mariella again?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Who’s playing the snake?”
“Darren.”
I scoff dismissively. “Since when can he dance on pointe?”
“He’s-…learning.” Donna defends him.
“Well sure. I just hope he doesn’t make a fool of himself.”
“You know Darren never actually did anything to make you dislike him right?” Donna crosses her arms at me.
“I don’t dislike him. I just think his skills aren’t as good as he thinks they are and Barnaby is coddling him too much.”
She scoffs.
This conversation is going in the entirely wrong direction.
“Sorry, I’m still a bit sore from the whole firing thing.” I tell her and am surprised to find I mean it.
Her expression softens somewhat at that.
And then she hugs me. Her arms are soft and sweet as they squeeze my shoulders.
“Donna?”
“I know it can’t have been nice to get fired like that. But please know Barnaby did it for your own sake as much as his. He doesn’t want you ruining your body for the art form.”
“Don’t all ballet dancers? In one way or another?” I sneer.
“Not like this.” As she speaks, her arms travel from my shoulders to my waist “You lost weight.” she remarks “Are you eating enough?”
The question startles me.
I don’t know.
When did I eat last?
I don’t think I ate anything today.
What did I eat yesterday?
Do I even have food in the house?
Am I accidentally starving myself to death?
“I, uh, I’m fine.” I tell her with little conviction.
“But-“ she tries.
I wriggle myself out of her embrace. “You shouldn’t worry about me.” I tell her.
“Do you have enough money? If you can’t afford food then-“
I scoff at the notion. “I have plenty money.” I reach under my jacket into my trouser pocket and pull out some of the money I earned. “See?”
She looks at it, the golden glow on her face shifting as she directs her gaze to me with concerned eyes. “Valentine? What did you get yourself into?”
“I already told you, it’s nothing you need to worry about.” I pat her head and smile at her. “Thank you for your visit Donna.” I check my watch and add “You should head back to theater. Barnaby will be checking costumes in two hours and it’s a long walk back.”
The walk is not that long but the message should be clear.
She tugs on her sleeve. “I see. Well, take good care of yourself Valentine.”
The door silently closes behind her.
Her footsteps recede into nothingness.
I wait for one moment.
Two.
Three.
Then quickly put on my shoes and tell Benji I’ll be back in a bit.

The wind beats and cuts through my clothes as I pass the rooftops, only dying down when I’m back on street level.
I’m on my way to Suiha-street. There’s a store there that’s always open and serves ready-made food that my former colleagues and I used to go to after a long night of drinking.
I think the last thing I ate was a box of chocolate and cherry cakes that I bought to celebrate the new job….
So why am I not hungry?
It’s the cigs isn’t it?
Why didn’t Raoul warn me of the side effects?
I roll my eyes to my own foolishness. Because that’s not his job, he’s just a dealer. What does he care if I keel over and die?
Then I push the thought from my head again as the tall red flags with silly symbols appear in view.

I open the heavy door to the store, then bend over to fit through the doorway. The paper lantern light inside the store has a red tint to it.
The woman behind the cash register has kind eyes and smiles at me as I pass.
I nod at her as a way of greeting, then push my way into the back of the store, past the liquor and faded umbrellas.
I pick up some sweet pork rolls, some chicken skewers and a paper bag of dried mango pieces and bring them back to the front of the store I pay the woman with a silvy and she tries her best to not look suspiciously at it.
Yes, I get it, ragged-run guy with lots of cash looks bad.
She’s not even wrong.
I have no idea what’s inside the boxes I deliver…but whatever it is, it’s not legal.
Legal doesn’t pay this well.
She gives me a small mountain of coppers in change, then wishes me a good day.

I sit down on a barrel standing out the minnow shop.
I untie the string from the wax-paper package and take a bite of my roll.
The mix of sweet spices and salt used to taste amazing after a long day of preparing, performing and drinking but now it just feels greasy on my tongue.
Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered?
No, I have to eat something.
I sternly force another bite down my throat.
The dried mango fares a little better.
The chicken feels slippery like fish.
By the time the food is gone the sky looks ash and I’m feeling sick to my stomach.
I push myself off the barrel and try to make my way back home when a worrying taste leaks into the back of my mouth.
Oh cra-
I rush to the nearest bin and manage to reach it just in time to throw up all the food I had pushed down.
Tears spring into my eyes as I slide onto the dirty cobbles, exhausted and ribs aching.
I keep my eyes deadlocked on the street but I can feel the eyes in my direction burning little holes in my.
With trembling fingers I pull a cig from my pocket and light it.
Maybe I should just try something lighter? I reckon.
“It’s gonna be okay.” I whisper to myself.
“I’m gonna be okay.”