Sunshine
Sunshine stands at the window, peering through the dirty blinds that cover the grime encrusted panes. She slouches against the frame and takes long, slow drags from her cigarette. She puffs the smoke from her lungs in lazy gusts of breath and watches the sun begin it's ascent into the sky.
The headaches were back. When the headaches are the worst, she doesn't sleep. Instead, she stands at the window, just as she is now, and half-heartedly watches the world with her unfocused, aching eyes. She can only watch it for a bit before the sun's rays become too bright and only feed the hungry pains pulsing in her head.
The doctors can't explain what causes the headaches. She's been through every test imaginable, and even some unimaginable, but there are never any answers. They keep her on medication, for the pain. It rarely helps unless she catches them before they can creep into her brain and immobilize her.
She glances over her shoulder at the heap of lovely woman in her bed, snuggled under the blankets. Trina. She's amazing. To Sunshine, she's the world. The moon, the stars, the universe. She would be dead now if it weren't for Trina.
When they met, the headaches were at their worst and all Sunshine wanted was a release from the pain. She had it all planned out. She would go out for one last drink, then she would come home, and take all of the pills from all of the bottles from all of her doctors. She figured that the pills ruled her life, so why shouldn't they rule her death? She had gotten dressed, not too fancy, but still nice and had strolled down to the bar at the end of the street. She found herself a barstool near the end of the bar and had settled there, screaming over the music to the bartender for a gin martini, dirty, three olives, please. She had let her gaze skim over the crowd of dancing bodies, shuffling back and forth to the beat, and sipped her drink.
"Martini. Nice..." came a voice from her left. Sunshine turned and came face to face with her unwitting savior. She had a smile that lit up the room, and a body that left nothing to be desired. "I'm Trina."
"Sunshine."
"Excuse me?" Trina looked confused. It was beautiful. Sunshine laughed, "My name...it's Sunshine."
"Oh!" Trina blushed. "What kind of a name is Sunshine?"
"The 'my parents were hippie-flower-children kind'," Sunshine replied with a smile, as the bartender handed Trina her drink.
"This may seem a bit forward, but...umm, well, would you like to get out of here? Go for a walk with me? This music is giving me a headache," Trina says, her innate shyness showing in her eyes.
"A headache, huh? ...Sure. Let's go." The both quickly swallowed the remainders of their drinks and walked out into the damp night together.
They walked for hours, talking, exploring, sharing. Sunshine was able to ignore the pain in her skull for a while and remember what it was like to feel normal. Trina walked her home at 4 a.m. and didn't ask to come in. Sunshine took her hand and pulled her in the door before she could object.
They laid in Sunshine's bed, just holding each other and when the pain returned at a higher volume, Trina held Sunshine's hair when she got sick and lightly touched the cool wash cloth to her forehead and cheeks. Yes, Trina was Sunshine's world, her savior.
Pulling herself from the window, and snubbing what's left of the cigarette, Sunshine leans over Trina and kisses her hair, then treads lightly into the bathroom and closes the door. Sitting on the toilet lid, she lines up her little army of brown pill bottles and stares at them. Ten minutes pass and finally she picks up the bottle on the far end of the row and twists the cap off. She dumps the whole bottle into her palm and counts them. Fourteen. That would be enough. She holds them for another few minutes, searching for her resolve.
"Shiney?" Trina is at the door, speaking her nickname. "Shiney, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, love. Just taking some pain meds."
"Come back to bed, huh? I'm cold."
Sunshine looks again at the tiny mountain of pills in her palm, then carefully dumps them back into their container and closes the cap on it. She puts the bottle army away in the cabinet and opens the door.
Trina has climbed back into bed, and fallen back asleep already. Sunshine slides in beside her and pulls her close while the sunlight begins prying it's fingers through the closed window blinds. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe it'll be better.
Tell me what you think...
The headaches were back. When the headaches are the worst, she doesn't sleep. Instead, she stands at the window, just as she is now, and half-heartedly watches the world with her unfocused, aching eyes. She can only watch it for a bit before the sun's rays become too bright and only feed the hungry pains pulsing in her head.
The doctors can't explain what causes the headaches. She's been through every test imaginable, and even some unimaginable, but there are never any answers. They keep her on medication, for the pain. It rarely helps unless she catches them before they can creep into her brain and immobilize her.
She glances over her shoulder at the heap of lovely woman in her bed, snuggled under the blankets. Trina. She's amazing. To Sunshine, she's the world. The moon, the stars, the universe. She would be dead now if it weren't for Trina.
When they met, the headaches were at their worst and all Sunshine wanted was a release from the pain. She had it all planned out. She would go out for one last drink, then she would come home, and take all of the pills from all of the bottles from all of her doctors. She figured that the pills ruled her life, so why shouldn't they rule her death? She had gotten dressed, not too fancy, but still nice and had strolled down to the bar at the end of the street. She found herself a barstool near the end of the bar and had settled there, screaming over the music to the bartender for a gin martini, dirty, three olives, please. She had let her gaze skim over the crowd of dancing bodies, shuffling back and forth to the beat, and sipped her drink.
"Martini. Nice..." came a voice from her left. Sunshine turned and came face to face with her unwitting savior. She had a smile that lit up the room, and a body that left nothing to be desired. "I'm Trina."
"Sunshine."
"Excuse me?" Trina looked confused. It was beautiful. Sunshine laughed, "My name...it's Sunshine."
"Oh!" Trina blushed. "What kind of a name is Sunshine?"
"The 'my parents were hippie-flower-children kind'," Sunshine replied with a smile, as the bartender handed Trina her drink.
"This may seem a bit forward, but...umm, well, would you like to get out of here? Go for a walk with me? This music is giving me a headache," Trina says, her innate shyness showing in her eyes.
"A headache, huh? ...Sure. Let's go." The both quickly swallowed the remainders of their drinks and walked out into the damp night together.
They walked for hours, talking, exploring, sharing. Sunshine was able to ignore the pain in her skull for a while and remember what it was like to feel normal. Trina walked her home at 4 a.m. and didn't ask to come in. Sunshine took her hand and pulled her in the door before she could object.
They laid in Sunshine's bed, just holding each other and when the pain returned at a higher volume, Trina held Sunshine's hair when she got sick and lightly touched the cool wash cloth to her forehead and cheeks. Yes, Trina was Sunshine's world, her savior.
Pulling herself from the window, and snubbing what's left of the cigarette, Sunshine leans over Trina and kisses her hair, then treads lightly into the bathroom and closes the door. Sitting on the toilet lid, she lines up her little army of brown pill bottles and stares at them. Ten minutes pass and finally she picks up the bottle on the far end of the row and twists the cap off. She dumps the whole bottle into her palm and counts them. Fourteen. That would be enough. She holds them for another few minutes, searching for her resolve.
"Shiney?" Trina is at the door, speaking her nickname. "Shiney, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, love. Just taking some pain meds."
"Come back to bed, huh? I'm cold."
Sunshine looks again at the tiny mountain of pills in her palm, then carefully dumps them back into their container and closes the cap on it. She puts the bottle army away in the cabinet and opens the door.
Trina has climbed back into bed, and fallen back asleep already. Sunshine slides in beside her and pulls her close while the sunlight begins prying it's fingers through the closed window blinds. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe it'll be better.
Tell me what you think...