I lie on the couch, in the factory which has become more familiar than my bed…peering outside at the tree. I toss and turn, unable to calm my nerves down. I pop another pill, thank God, they’re not yet sleep inducing or mind altering drugs. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since ten in the morning. There’s a dread that grips my heart, when the freaking thing starts off and it’s not regarding work or one of my usual friends who’ve kept a watch out for me.
‘Another round of bullshit is going to begin! This isn’t a coincidence, five calls in one day, from the same network.’ nags SB. ‘ Like this, you will not let me speak to anyone!’ complains SC, who feels trapped behind SB’s pokey exterior. She longs for the sun, a little warmth, some faith, a smile…just a bit of tenderness. The other one, who not only had her temper, vicious tongue and general pokiness, as a defense mechanism (what has been termed ‘anti social behaviour’) has developed better ‘walls’ ( they’ve been called my fortress), classic escapist, now hides behind work. Not the work, that has kept her (relatively) sane for two decades…but lets solve the financial mess before you get royally screwed kind of work! She’s a woman on a mission, with only herself to truly rely on. All the knives in the back, have triggered an obsession with the idea of financial security, absolute privacy, a legacy plan and adopting babies!
The internal dialogue goes on and on-
SC- let’s go to the Dargah. They even messaged to find out if everything is alright.
SB- Wait! I don’t need you to get all weepy and emotional. We got shit to do.
SC- But I have to shoot. If this carries on I won’t be able to create anything..
SB- Doesn’t matter.
SC- Stop getting anxious…nothing is happening.
SB- Haven’t you learnt anything from your mother’s life and your own? Something is freaking up, this is round three. Prepare for the onslaught!
SC- I just want to go home!