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7 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
‘MORAL OF THE STORY’ – ASHE
‘LIFE REMINDS US WE’RE ALIVE’ – MICHAEL FRANTI & SPEARHEAD
CANDY
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I cry, standing in the open doorway of my now stripped bare shitty flat. “Can this day get any worse?”
It officially just became an even shittier flat. The shittiest of shits. Just like today.
“Actually, I take that back. Gods, Fates, Mother Nature...whoever is listening, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t view it as a challenge. I’m happy with how awful today is. Really.”
I’m aware that I’m talking to myself, as I stand in the middle of my studio loft space. Don’t let the technical jargon fool you like it did me. ’Studio’ just means all your crap in one tiny room, and ‘loft’ just means it’s a bitch to heat, and I don’t have any decent windows. Fun, but just about affordable. Only, as I look down at the mail in my hand at yet another late rent demand, I have to admit that itisn’taffordable. Especially as I just got fired from my shitty waitressing job.
It is not my fault that I broke a guy’s fingers when he got too handsy with my ass. It’s a freaking family diner, not a strip joint! And Ididwarn him. He seemed to view that as a challenge or a game or some shit, but I wasn’t about to hang around to become rape bait on the long journey home.
So I flipped. Nice girl Grace retreated, and my old streetwise teen self who had to do anything and everything to survive living in shop doorways was unleashed. Candy. My real name and fucking-god awful one at that. Once I got off the streets, I started to go by my much more respectable middle name.
Anyway, I was fired on the spot. It wasonebroken finger. The way everyone reacted you’d have thought I repainted the diner red, and I don’t mean in ketchup. I mean, this is Black Hallows, so stranger things have happened. Not that I get involved in any gang business.
The whole way home I was remorseless though, right up until I stepped foot through the door.
“You fucking cockwomble, Jamie!” I scream at my very absent ex, as Candy from the streets comes very much out to play again.
I always knew he was an absolute layabout. Into drugs, gambling...you name it. A cheat, and a dirty one at that. Ugh, that reminds me I need to get testedagain.What a Merry fucking Christmas that’ll be if he’s given me some rabid sex disease as a parting gift, even if we haven’t had sex in weeks. Better to be safe.
I sigh, knowing I should have dumped his sorry ass sooner. I was holding out til after Christmas, until I came home to find him having a fucking orgy in my bed. It’s my flat! We didn’t even live together – not officially anyway. He just kind of stayed over one night and never seemed to leave. The orgy on my favourite Christmas bedding was the last straw. Rudolph was fuckingdefiled.I had to burn shit after that. Shame I couldn’t do the same to my eyeballs and my brain. At least I was savvy enough not to get my heart involved.
Didn’t count on the cheeky fuck coming back to strip me bare. He’d already bled me dry, so why not take the very rug outfrom under me? Literally. I should have changed the locks. I’m such an idiot.
Every damn thing is gone. Even the built-in oven which came with the flat. Goodbye security deposit. I slip down onto the exposed wooden floorboards and sit cross legged, pulling a notebook and pen out of my satchel. I need to do something. A quick scan of my online banking and a few rough calculations tells me that I’m royally fucked. I would have been anyway just trying to pay the rent before Christmas, without the extra expense of having to replace every damn item I ownandthe ones that don’t belong to me.
Sighing, I pick up the phone and call my bestie. Who else do you call in times of need?
“Yes, Gracie?” She already sounds exasperated with me before I even speak.
“It’s bad, Elle.”
“What now?” she snaps, before sighing. “Or should I say, how much now?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, cheeks blazing with shame.
“You must have a ball-park. I’ll do what I can, but Christmas is expensive and I have a massive family…”
“I’m not asking for money,” I manage to choke out as tears begin to fill my eyes, and I just can’t swallow the painful lump in my throat. What would be the point? I would needthousandsand no-one has that kind of cash lying around to spare this close to the festive period.
“Well, what then?”
I look down at the letter in my hand. The one behind the final rent demand, which was actually delivered two weeks ago – fucking Jamie must have hidden it from me – to the eviction notice. Which states I’m to vacate the property and leave my keys behind no later than December 24th. Christmas Eve. A week away.
“Can I come stay with you?”
“What’s the asshole done now?” Elle sighs.
“We split up, for good this time. I just got home and—”
“What do you mean you just got home? I thought you were working the closing shift tonight?”
