The Day the Rains Came

She looked over her left shoulder, frowning absently at the intrusion. "Trudy!" she yelled, "Didn't I tell you to keep him out of here?"

Across the room the blond sighed. She knew better than to argue, but really, why did Queen Deborah think She got to make all the rules? Who died and made her landlord?

She huffed silently and took off her gloves. Finger by finger, concentration mounting until the glove exploded off her hand in an orgasm of relief and relaxation. She knew that if she could ignore the Queen until self-control was regained, that she could muster the breath to tell her she was leaving.

"What? Leaving?", Deborah slumped over her sewing. "But why? I thought you loved it here. I thought we were roommates forever."

Trudy could think of no polite way to answer. Upended by this burst of honest emotion, she didn't know what to do. Prepared for war and anger, Deborah's sadness took her completely by surprise.

Bathroom theatrics

"Oh my God, no!" She screams, leaning back, dangerously far out of the tub. Though almost certain of slipping, it's preferable to what's happening now.

Him. Slashing at her throat, he grabs the curtain for balance and pulls the circle of shower rod down upon them. His straight razor is dripping with blood, evidence of previous contact with her neck. Blood seeps down her wet hair, intermingling with her long dark tresses. She is a horror movie in the flesh.

The inevitable happens and she lands hard, shoulders slamming on the tile floor. Stepping over her, he brings his knife to her throat. Cruelly twisting her arm, he drags her to her feet and into the living room. Knife still at her throat, he threatens her again. "Tell me you fucking bitch, tell me."

"Help! Help!! Up here in 203. Helllpp!"

1957

It was a beautiful year. That was the year Baby was born, the year we bought our first house. Remember when we bought that old house? Funny, we were so sure we'd fix it up right and live in it forever. Who knew how right we'd be?

I remember the day you told me. You walked in the door of our old apartment - remember old 203? You marched right in, front door slamming. Head held high and striding right into the kitchen. You didn't even stop to kiss Harold! You picked me up and twirled me around, stirring spoon and all. My dress knocked over the flour and still you didn't care.

"We've got the house! We're moving!", you kept shouting.

"What house? Who's moving?" I kept asking. I had no idea!

Finally you put me down, kissed the baby and dropped your briefcase. Pouring yourself a scotch, you whistled. "Jeesh, I got us a good deal too. Talked the fella down from three thousand to two-eighty."

You were so proud of yourself! I had no idea what you were talking about, but talking a fella down from three thousand to two-eighty seemed like a good thing, so I agreed. "Oh darling, that's wonderful! Tell me more!" And I hugged you as big as I could, and little Jeffery agreed that wasn't Daddy our big man. "Whoopie, Daddy, whoopie", he shouted.

Of course I eventually found out who the fella was and what the numbers mean. How ironic that I ended up in real estate, hey?

Anyway, Jeffery says hi and that he loves you. Serena says hi too and they can't wait to see you walking out of here! The boys are great and send kisses. They want Grandpa back to play street hockey with - they say you're the best goalie ever!

Sweetie? Sweetie? Can you hear me?

I know you can. I know you're in there. I love you, you know how much I love you and I need you. I need you to get better. We all love you. Come back to us.

Alicia, come on, back to work. You can't sit with that old man every day. Besides he smells! Let him go. Let him die in peace. Our conscious patients need attention too. And stop making up stories - you're messing with his psyche. You can't replace everybody's family. Face it - some people just have shitty family. Or maybe they're all dead. Anyway, there's shift records to finish and evening clean-up. Let's go.

Sober Second Thoughts

She lifted her head, sitting on the sofa, looking at the east wall. Thank God it was a sunny day.

He ran his hand up her skirt, playing with her panties. His fingers wedged themselves into her vulva. His pudgy wrinkly man-fingers both repulsed and excited her. She loved sex and resented the man who satisfied her. How dare he thrust himself inside her and oh my god how good it feels.

...

Later - much later - they stand together as she kisses him goodbye. Reaching up to him she kisses him passionately knowing she will never see him again. Nor does she want to. As he leaves, he polishes the door numberplate with his sleeve. "Good old apartment 203. I'll never forget you". It's unclear if he is talking to the apartment or her.  

1. the Very Hot shower

Almost too hot. It'd be great to turn it down - make the water a little cooler, but she remained stuck. Exploring the edge of sensation, letting the very hot water massage her shoulders and neck.

Standing in the tub, she considers the room. This bathroom has been home for over one hundred years to toilet use, showering and bathing, and the million other things one does in a bathroom.

She began to wonder about those who came before her. Men, women, couples, families, roomies... what brought them here, and what took them away?

What were their stories....?