JOELLE

Joelle holds the box-cutter in her hands, shaking. Her relationship with edgy tools was as an addict’s with his shot, or at least that was what she was afraid of. “Can you do it?”. Miss Saigon grabs her shaking hand softly and with the other takes the box-cutter from her and carefully cuts the cell-taped edges of the box. Inside it finds… “Catnip?”, asks Joelle with wonder. “Meow! The two women freeze in place as they look upon the cute tufted ginger cat behind them.”

“Miss Saigon, do you see that?”

“I didn’t realise you had a cat.”

“I don’t.”

They stare at the cat who’s grooming itself.

“I could use that cup of coffee now.”

“I’ll get some-”, Joelle says, making a move to stand up.

“I’ll get it.”, she interrupts her.

“It’s in the-”

“First cupboard on the right, I know.”, Miss Saigon interrupts her again.

“Okay…”, sighs Joelle.

A while has passed and Miss Saigon holds a cup of coffee and serves another one to Joelle. “At least now you can rest assured that you’re not crazy.”, says offering her the cup.

“Then why do I feel like I’m going to be?”, says taking it.

“Because someone wants you to.”

“Who? The cat?”

“Whoever sent him to you.”,

“Do you think it’s a boy?”

“It’s a bit fat for a girl, don’t you think?”. She blows her hot coffee and puts her cup on the coffee table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a feminist, Miss Saigon?”

“Forgive my bad manners, Miss O, Connor.” She notices Joelle ready to take a sip. “Careful it’s hot.”

“Is it too weird that I wanna keep him?”, says putting her cup on the coffee table.

“Yeah, but also kind of sweet.”

“I don’t think he’s the one who wants my harm anyways.”

“Be careful though, felines are more dangerous than they look.”

“Meow!”, whines Miss Saigon imitating a cat’s claws, scratching the air, leaning over Joelle. The latter laughs her heart out leaning backwards. An awkward moment for Joelle.

“Would you care to join me next door for lunch? I’ve made shepherd’s pie.”, Miss Saigon breaks the silence.

“At 6am?”

“No, it's leftovers from last night. And by leftovers I mean a whole pie except the one piece I had for dinner.”

The girl laughs. “Sounds delicious. Is my cat invited?”

The two women laugh and grab the kitty to pet it. “How should we name the little fellow?”

“Alyssa…”

“I am so sorry, Joelle…”

“Yeah… Me too…”

Miss Saigon offers her a comforting caress on her back and then picks up her cup to take a sip from her coffee.

“Hmm…”, she pouts with disgust.

“Sorry. It has been sitting there for a while.”

“Yeah, figured.”

“Haven’t been around much lately…”

“I know.”, says taking another tiny sip and pouts again.

“Is it that bad?”

“Go for it.”

“Ew, it’s like mud…”, taking a sip herself.

“Hmhm…”

As they break into laughter, the cat walks on their knees and stretches, laying on his back, revealing his little balls. “Oh, my god, it is a boy.”, chuckles Joelle.

“I’ve been telling you.”

“I can’t call him Alyssa now, can I?”

“It could be a non-binary cat.”

“I love how progressive you can be, Miss Saigon.”

“You have no idea.”

“Let’s say Alys, to be more neutral.”

“Sure, so they don’t get bullied at school…”

“Oh, let’s go cut that shepherd’s pie at last!”

It had been a while since I had last visited Miss Saigon’s house. It must have been somewhere between my third and fourth commitment. Everything looked the same. My aunt would move the furniture around and redecorate every while or so, but Miss Saigon seemed to prefer stability. And I did too. It made me feel safer to have a stable environment in an ever-changing life. Except my own home. I mean the one my aunt left me with. There I felt that I couldn’t bear to be anymore, no matter how much I could change it - although I wouldn’t- I knew that I would still be unable to stay there. Why? I’ve just connected it with a place of isolation leading to emotional meltdowns, leading to psychosis. The only good thing about it was that I had a great neighbour who always showed up for me. Although I was aware of the fact that sometimes I was pushing her away, despite that being the last thing I ever wanted, I just felt the need to protect her… from myself…

After we had some fresh coffee chatting for hours about literature, what I’ve missed in college and the “old” times, around noon-time we warmed up the pie and sat at the dinner-table to have a formal meal. The table was clothed and fully decked. Even a candlestick was placed in the middle of the table although we didn’t really need light to see at this time of the day. As Miss Saigon came holding a bottle of expensive red wine, I wondered if we were waiting for any guests, but she reassured me that it would be just us and that she wanted to do something special for me on my first day back home. As I was beginning to find back the narration of my own story, I realised that she was the only person left who made this feel home.

“Whoosh!” We had already devoured half of the shepherd’s pie and the whole wine-bottle as the sun was beginning to set, when I saw the shower curtains moving, sitting on the toilet in an attempt to get as much alcohol as I could out of my system so I wouldn’t do anything I’d regret. I whip away the curtains to see the window open. I get up to close it and a hand appears, trying to grab me… “Aaaaah!” My screams pierced through the wall and ran down the twisted stairs to the dining hall where Miss Saigon was reaching for the heavy candlestick. I ran down the stairs faster than the cockroach, which began crawling out of the syphon. I was reaching the front porch while Miss Saigon wondered whether she should check upstairs or on me first. She started hurrying up the stairs and I kneeled onto the grass breathless, feeling my stomach stirred, as though I was gonna vomit. As soon as I hear a scream coming from the house, I find the courage to pick myself up and hurry again inside.

“Miss Saigon?”, I yell all my way up the twisted stairs which increase my dizziness with each step. And then I wanna just fall onto the ground again when I see Miss Saigon trying to kill the freaking cockroach with the candlestick. Instead of that, I reach for the toilet and throw up the red spirits from disgust. “Oh sweetie, I am sorry, I shouldn’t let you drink that much”. As I looked onto the window and saw it was closed I felt like throwing up my guts. Was I hallucinating all over again? I wasn’t even sleeping and wine is definitely not drugs. I just squeezed my head thinking that the buzzing through my ears was piercing through my brain. As I felt a soft touch on my back, I twitched and started running again as though the ground was burning rocks and I couldn’t keep my feet on them more than a less of a split of a second. I felt Miss Saigon following me until a point that I got lost in the woods and I passed out on a log. Was I back to the loonies’ bin?

I wake up by a screaming fox in the middle of the night in the middle of the forest’s dreadful woods. I felt as though my body was so heavy and immobile, as if I were stuck on a giant spider-web, being the prey waiting to be slowly shredded to pieces to feed the monster. “Snip-snap-Whoosh!”. I turn my gaze to face red sparkles springing up. They are coming towards me, but I cannot escape, “I have to get up, I have to get up, I have to get up!” I get up and open my eyes to see my bedroom. I breathe heavily, producing a silent scream.

“NO. I’m not calling them… again.” Having already called five times in the last three years to commit myself to a psychiatric clinic, didn’t look like the sixth would do the trick. It was something that I needed to handle on my own. Or… with another kind of help. When I was little, I used to do a little dreamwork. Besides waking up when I was close to dying as was with the wildfire spreading towards me just before in the woods, I could focus my mind on my wish to wake up from a nightmare or just a dream that was taking too long, being trapped in lucid dreaming loops and I had to rise from the eternal sleep to start off my day finally. “There’s nothing to lose.”, I sigh. I close my eyes, focusing really hard and I wake up in the forest again. I twitch. No fire to be seen. Just the trees and a harmless little fox. “Hey little one”. I pet it for the first time in years. Its fur is thick and soft like a cuddly toy. “Why would I ever be afraid of you?”

I hear a small giggle and I turn around to see a shadow disappearing behind the trees. I start running after it, but it keeps escaping me. Although I know it’s pointless, I keep running, overcoming my powers, feeling my heart beating out of my chest, my breath sounding like a panting dog, my legs numb and my knees soft as I was constantly on the verge to fall. “I’m not gonna hurt you!”.

“Catch me, catch me, catch me if you can!”

“Enough with the games!”

“Aaaaah” yells the shadow, slipping into what looked like a rabbit hole.

“Are you alright?”. No answer to be heard.

Could this be another dream inside a dream? Or was I just hallucinating the whole time?

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real! Fuck! NO! It is real!”

I jump at the hole waiting to find myself rolling into an endless slide. Instead, I find myself falling on mud in what seemed like a little tunnel that had another hole a bit further to get back on the ground. “Of course!”. I climb up again covered in dirt, deciding for the next kind of help I should probably get.

“Ding, dong!”

“Joelle?”, Miss Saigon opens the door, looking at me worriedly.

“What happened? You startled me before!”

“Miss Saigon, I’ve embraced my sanity and I know that someone’s after me, I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, honey!”, she moves towards my side to embrace me and I pull away on the giggly sound piercing through my ears again.

“Did you hear that?”

“The- Aaaaah!”

Miss Saigon, startled once more, falls down the stairs of the front porch, as the little girl with the red locks jumps in front of her like a doll from a creepy horror film. I run down the stairs out of breath. “Miss Saigon!” Distant laughing is still being heard.

“Who are you?”, I yell.

The little girl steps out of the shadows and down the stairs, playfully.

“You seriously do not recognise me Joelle?”