The Outsiders

A woman offers another woman two hundred dollars to join her in a car. The woman, Susan, a drug addict and prostitute begins a journey that will change her life.

 Chapter One: The Outsiders

            The twenty-four hour diner held two customers. The young Chinese woman sat in a corner booth sipping a cappuccino. Four tables away sat another young woman nursing a cup of brown  tea. Although the diner was warm the woman still wore her overcoat and sat with her shoulders hunched in an attempt to retain heat. A smear of cheap mascara did little to hide the

hunger  lurking in her eyes. Skeletal fingers clutched the handle of the mug.

                Just another junkie thought Mei Ling as she spooned the cream off her cappuccino. What more had she expected? Yet she could not help feeling a little disappointed. She noticed the frilled cuffs that concealed the woman's wrists. A good way to hide scars, at least some scars.

                From a radio in the back of the room a voice screamed above a thumping of electric guitars. The rumbling of a passing bus drifted into the restaurant. In an hour the street would be

filled with people going to work but not her. She would stagger back to a cheap hotel room to a needle and welcome oblivion.

           Mei Ling placed a five-dollar note on the table. She then picked up her purse and opened it. She took out a  hundred dollar bill. Passing the woman seated at the table she dropped the note next to the cup of tea.“Come with me.”

           The woman looked up. For the first time she saw a short haired Chinese woman in an expensive suit. A lez she thought. “You got another one?”

                One more Robert Borden dropped onto the table.

                The woman stubbed out her cigarette and pocketed the money. Whoever the lez was she had money. With any luck she could rip her off for more. “So where are we going?”

                “My place.”

            “Yeah, where's that?”

                "Does it matter?"

                “I might have to catch a bus back.”

                “No you won't.”

                The yellow MG reassured her. There would only be the two of them. No unpleasant surprises. It also meant money. Settling into the bucket seat she fantasized  being at the wheel. If she could rip off the car Lester could keep her supplied with smack for a month. No more asking for money from her stupid brother.

                “Would you like some music,” the woman asked her.

                She shrugged. “Whatever.”

                Mei Ling punched in a cassette. Bach's Jesu Joy of Man's Desire filled the car.

                “I've always liked that,” said Mei Ling.

                “Yeah?” The woman settled her head against the seat. Mathew liked that, She had a

vague sense of having liked it once before the dope. “We going or not?”

                “Of course.”

                Mei Ling turned the ignition.

                The woman looked out the window at the grey emptiness of the parking lot. The

pavement  seemed to shiver in the frigid night air. Have to get more sleep the woman thought. A

faint humming filled her ears. Her stomach twisted. Then the pavement vanished.

                The car sat in a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. She blinked. The trees remained.

Across the open field a groundhog waddled. Beside her she heard a car door open. As it opened

her ears caught the sound of waves beating against rocks.

                Mei Ling stood outside the car speaking into a tiny cell phone. She nodded and smiled as

she noticed the woman looking at her. Pocketing the phone she then stepped away from the car

into nothingness.

            “S**t.”

                The woman gawked at the empty space. Her numbed fingers fumbled with the latch as

she tried to open the door. The sight of a woman disappearing into air, of a world vanishing was

too large to grasp but what truly terrified her to was the silence. Her life had been marked by

sound, television, radio, Walkman, traffic, people, and all the incessant, comforting racket of

modern life. Here, wherever here was, she could hear the waves, birds and herself.

                She pressed her hand against her ears to shut out the silence. Whimpering she slid down

deeper into the bucket seat of the car curling against its soft leather.

                “Susan?”

                Ignoring the voice she reached for her purse for the needle that would bring oblivion.

                “You won't find it there.”

                She looked up to see him.  Standing on the other side of the door  was her brother.Older. Much older, but her brother.

                “Matthew?"

                He smiled. “Yes, Susan. Your brother, Susan, please come with me.”

                Unaided, the door beside Susan opened.

            “B*****d!”  She flung herself against him. to find herself striking air. Screams alternated

with whimpering and weeping. Matthew knew the sounds. He had heard them so many times

before. Mei Ling touched his left his arm. “Come away, father.”

***

                The sanitation workers found the body when they emptied the bin. Wrapped in a black

plastic bag it dropped into the truck as they tilted the bin. The autopsy revealed three stab

wounds, one to the left breast, another to the right lung and another to the heart. Fingerprints

confirmed the corpse to be Susan Foley, prostitute, petty thief, heroin addict. Her one known r

elation was informed. Doctor Foley traveled to Toronto, identified the body and took it home to

Kingston for burial.  The murderer was never found. Within a year the case had been buried in

the files of the police department.

***

                Mei LIng held him back. “It's not safe, father.”

                "She's my sister." Matthew looked at the woman her voice  his voice  muffled by the

Window

                “No. She's not.  The only relation she has is with that damned drug. She will never be

your sister until we clean it out of her.  The only thing she feels for you and for anyone else is

hate. You know that.”

                The sleeping gas began to seep up from the floor of the car. Soon it would envelop Susan

ending the cries. Matthew pressed his hand against the window and then turned away.

***

                She floated in a womb filled with Luke-warm water. Umbilical cords carried nutrients,

air and blood into her.  Other tubes carried away her waste products.  Smaller cables were

attached to her shaven scalp. For Susan Foster time had stopped.  She dreamed dreams as warm

as the water  that sustained her. Her mind lived, dreaming dreams of gentle people loving her,

keeping away the pain.

                “Is this wise?”asked Matthew.

                “Wise? Maybe not.”said  Louise.  “Necessary, yes.”

                “I wanted my sister.”

                The man had waited so long.  During all the decades that had passed since meeting him in

Kingston, through all their travels and work the one thing Matthew had wanted most was to

regain his sister, the one thing he could never have.

                “Matthew you know that what you want doesn’t matter.   What matters is what she

needs.”

            “Yes. I know.”

                Her earliest memory would be of two great farm horses.  They plodded down the road in

front of her house pulling a hay wagon that towered above her.

                “Why the horses?” Mathew asked Louise.

                “They represent gentleness, strength, trust.  Those are things that she needs.”

                “Sounds rather naive.”

                “This is what a four-year-old is. Naïve. Depth is the problem.” Louise continued.

“Memories  have to be laid on in layers much like a fine oil painting.”

                “And the old memories?”

                “Buried like an ancient nightmare.”

                “But still there.  Will the new memories hold?”

                “What is the past but memory? The old memories will seem like a nightmare, intimations

of a past life but nothing more.”

                “Are you certain?”

                Louise touched his hand. “Even if I were proven wrong, how could her new life be any

worse than her old?”

                More layers of memory were added. Parents and brother, at home in a valley, life in a

small city.  Girlhood faded into womanhood. A love of poetry and music, an interest in

astronomy and in philosophy, the things Susan had been stripped of by the nightmares of her

life.  As the days passed Susan continued to float in her watery womb.

Islanders   Amazon Press

Author's Note

Written in Canadian English

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing first chapter Sharrumkin. You made the story line and the character interesting. I like the back-thoughts. You gave history to the story. Thank you for sharing the outstanding chapter.
Coyote

[D. Mansfield]

Very good first chapter, I enjoyed it and look forward to reading more