Come Down

Fuck, it really is a dull day, now my eyes crack open and take a good look. Or is that just me? It could be? I feel a chuckle in my chest. Dull as in feeling little, or no pain. It is all I can hope for, at this juncture. I love that word, juncture, I say it out loud.

I wasn’t really sure how I got to the kitchen. I chuckle to myself again. I love this part of it, as much as I like the up. A safe landing, my parachute has been deployed and I am floating back down to earth.

I'm toying with the idea of central heating. Turning it on, not installing it. Well, greenhouse gases, world health. We all consume too much energy. Do you know that Sydney Harbour is now so poisonous that it is no longer safe to eat fish caught in it? 

I could put on a jumper. Two pairs of track suit pants? Some stripy socks, maybe?

The world is quiet. Quiet and still; except for my ears and that wringing sound within.

And the whir of my coffee machine.

I'm not sure if I'm shaking from the cold, as much as shaking from what I did last night? We did last night.

I'm on soft focus, that's for sure. Maybe I should just go back to bed. I need to wake Mat up and send him home... work, he has to go to work. Whatever, then I can have the day all to myself.

I want coke, that's the coke a cola, type coke, you understand, my taste buds are dead and need wakening. It's the only time I want coke, ever drink coke. You know, rather than putting the coin into it to clean it. Wash the barnacles off my tastebuds.

The light is all yellow, golden and flowing. Everything is so still. Quiet. Have I already said quiet?

I take my coffee and head upstairs. Mat is lying face down in the bed, snoring. I sit on the bed and tousle his hair.

“Hey sleepy head, I bought you coffee.”

The regular snoring breaks up.

“You’ve got to go to work.”

He starts snuffling, and snorting. He moves a bit, but he isn’t awake. Movement and sound stop.

“It’s 8am,” I say. I pick up my coffee and take a sip. It is the only time I feel god, with the flavour of coffee penetrating my tastebuds. Caffeine is the only true god.

“How can it be morning already?” asks a faltering voice.

“Well, I’m having it looked into as we speak, but thus far the reports are coming back Monday morning.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate me too, kiddo, but that isn’t going to change what day, nay morning it is.”

“And you don’t have to be anywhere?”

“No.”

“That’s a smug no.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Doesn’t alter the fact…”

“Doesn’t alter the fact you have to get up.”

“Why do we go out on Sunday night when…”

“When you have to work Monday, we had this conversation…”

“We did?”

“Yes, we did and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“It doesn’t alter the fact…”

“That I hate Perry.”

“You could have said no.”

“Who says no?”

“I’ll be fine, make me a double espresso and point me towards the CBD…”

“Are you claiming I said that?”

“You did say that.”

“Do you have any proof of that?”

“I didn’t know I’d need proof.”

“There are many things you need in this world, my friend.”

“Like a giant tow rope and a winch to get recalcitrant boys friends out of bed the morning after the night before when they said, oh, no, no, no, I’ll be fine with these lines, these small lines, I’ll be able to run a marathon in the morning after this.”

There was silence for quite a few moments.

“Are you quite done,” came Mat’s croaky voice.

“I believe I am,” I replied.

“You know, I hate you too.”

“So much hate so early in the morning.”

“Isn’t that the very definition of Monday morning?”

“Okay, are you getting up, or am I pulling the doona off you.”

“I’m getting up.”

There was another period of silence, but no movement.

“Do you want me to count to 3?”

Momentary silence.

“Are you still there?”

“One.

Momentary silence.

“Two.”

More silence.

“I will pull the doona off you.”

More silence.

“Can I distract you with sex?” Mat says.

“Three.”

“No.”

I ripped the doona off like a bandaid, one tug and it was off.

“OH GOD I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!” Mat sits up. Only one eye is open. 

I can’t help but laugh.

“I thought you were on my side.”

“I’ll go make coffee.” I leave the bedroom.

15 minutes later Mat appears in the kitchen, looking adorable, I have to say, but maybe I am a little biased. Jeans, black hoodie, backpack. I hand him his coffee. He takes it like he is on auto pilot. He downs the coffee in one gulp.  

“Bye,” he says. He stands at the kitchen door with puckered lips. I kiss him. Moments later I hear the front door open and close.

I sit at the coffee table with my third coffee and roll a joint. 

God’s herb seeps from my mouth, the familiar aroma of which infiltrates my nostrils and it is only me and pot in the world at that moment. I lie back on the couch and take another drag.

The coffee washes the barnacles from my tastebuds.

The light is all yellow, golden and flowing. Everything is so still. Quiet. Have I already said quiet?

I feel that reassuring chill of being alone tingle in my spine like electricity.

And nothing to do all day, which I just know I am going to do with enthusiasm.