When the wind blows. Part four.

A blank screen.
A blank screen that reflects.
A blank boxed screen that sees all,

And I have seen; I've seen them laughing, sharing and revealing. But have they seen? Have they ever stopped to look; to really look at their reflection in a blank screen? What do you suppose they'll see? Would they see that this tension is eating them both up? Would they see that they both want to remedy this malady?

But even if they did look, they would see a reflection of lies. I lie to them. I show them things; idealistic and fake things. I show them stories of other people's lives; carefully constructed stories that always seem to work out in the end. They think I have it all together, but I don't. I form something that looks cohesive, but my picture comes from separate parts; pixels that come together to form a whole. Why can't they come together?

They watch me. But do they know that I watch them too? Do they know that I'm watching them now? In my corner of the living room, my blank screen comes to life with their stories. And I realize that these two people are just like me. They are just like the pixels that come together when I'm turned on. These two people are separate, disconnected but when they're on they come together perfectly to form one friendship; one whole. Why are they turned off now?

Out of the left corner of my blank screen, I see Amy emerge from her room in her blue t-shirt and yellow and pink poke-a-dot shorts. She seems bothered and exhausted; and she should be. I understand. I've seen her come home and just sit. She just sits and stares out the window. She sits and stares at my blank screen. What is she looking at? She needs to see herself in my blank screen. I desperately want her to see what I see. I want her to see that just like my pixels, she and her roommate need to be cohesive then she can be happy; then they both can be happy. Maybe it will happen today; hopefully it will happen today. I haven't' seen them both together for so long. But I've seen them both. Alone. Sitting and staring. LOOK AT ME! Look at me; look at your reflection and see, see yourselves and see each other. Turn your friendship back on.

Amy goes to the opposite corner to use the phone. Just then the right corner of my blank screen spies Mercedes coming out of her room. Freeze Frame. What we have here is a reflection: two different people expressing the same kind of frustration. Amy tenses at the sound of the door opening; she angles her back to Mercedes. Mercedes is surprised at seeing Amy, she glares at her back, then looks hopeful. Action. Amy rushes to dial someone's number while Mercedes goes to the kitchen. And in separate instances I see the reflection of both Amy and Mercedes getting their hopes up at reconnecting their friendship. But instead of someone making the first move, they both slam their stubbornness trump card on the table. WHAM!

The TV stand that props me up shakes as a gust of wind blows through the house. I silently pray that it blows me over and shatters the blank screen - then maybe they'll both come out and put the pixels back together.

When the wind blows. Part Three.

Amy lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Through her closed bedroom door, past the bathroom, across the living room, and behind another closed door, she could hear the faint sounds of her roommate''s alarm. It was going off for almost two hours now. She rolled over and stared through the blinds, out the window. Amy tried to focus on the cars on the streets below. She tried to drown out the constant wailing of her roommate's alarm. But every nine minutes without fail, she was made aware of the person on the other side of the closed door. Every nine minutes rang in the reminder that something had changed.

She sat up in bed and looked at the clock. 12:30. Church in half an hour. While tugging on her yellow and pink poke-a-dot shorts, Amy looked into her closet. Nothing. Her eyes wandered. There in the corner was the laundry basket over flowing with not so clean clothes. She rummaged around and without much effort picked out an outfit that combined comfort with style. Admiring the creation laid out on her bed, she patted herself on the back for making something out of nothing. Now if only she could make something out of the mess that exploded between her and her roommate.

Amy could always do things effortlessly, but her roommate presented a problem. Mercedes was hard. Amy began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth. She walked out onto her balcony. Finally; she escaped her ringing conscious. While smoking her morning cigarette, Amy remembered: she remembered that she was different from Mercedes. Amy always knew this, but now that she was living Mercedes, she was constantly reminded of the one thing that set them apart from each other. Mercedes was comfortable being alone, in face she relished in the time that she spent by herself, while Amy liked to surround herself with other people, being alone meant dealing with things that she wasn't ready to face. Amy's thoughts drifted in and out of the previous night. In: inhaling, Out: rows and rows, In: glasses and glasses, Out: more wine please, In: people, Out: friends, In: Mercedes? Amy thought that one of their friends called Mercedes to came and hang out. Maybe she should have called Mercedes? Or maybe Mercedes should drop the guard she's holding up so high.

1:00. Where's my sister? Amy went to the living room to call her sister to see if she was giving her a ride to church; she hoped Mercedes was there. If they were both in the same room they would be forced to talk to each other, right? She extended her had to the door knob, preparing herself for a confrontation. Nothing. Amy went to the corner and picked up the phone. Then she heard a sound. Mercedes was opening her door. This is it.

"Ugh." That was it? That's all she could do? That's all I could do? My sister's not coming. No church. Amy heard a door slam; then felt the chill of the wind shaking the house.

When the wind blows. Part Two.

Mercedes' body twitched like an addict craving its next fix. She tossed and turned as if the Captain of a ship battling a storm. She was having a nightmare. It was as if with each furrow of her brow, she revealed that this was more than just a bad dream. The worry and conflict that her face expressed in her unconscious sleep gave way to her inner turmoil. As the blaring alarm slowly made its way into the background noise of her dream, Captain Mercedes realized that the rescue siren was actually her alarm clock begging her to relieve it from its duty that had gone on for over two hours.

The effects of the previous night's self-pity pride parade were beginning to tune in as Mercedes sat up in bed and looked around. Two jugs of cheap Carlo Rossi Chablis wine. One empty jug of cheap wine; one half empty jug of wine; one wine glass. It disgusted her that she had consumed so much wine in one night and by herself too. What had brought her to such a low point? She reached for her big mug and cherished the few drops of water that were left. As she mad her way to the door, mug in hand, she saw a little plastic baggie,reaching for it she cringed at seeing just a tiny nug of weed. She just bought this sack and in one night she had smoked so much and by herself too. Why did she feel the need to do this? Her had finally reached the door knob, but she stopped. Lying on her desk was a rolled up dollar bill; residue of white powder stained her desk top, a razor blade peeped out from under her mouse pad. This made her feel guilty. She abused these pain killers that abused her nose. With every line she hoped to relieve some of her pain. She had snorted so much and by herself too. Why?

Mercedes opened her bedroom door to confront the reason for all this self destructing behavior. Standing hunched in the living room corner was her roommate. Mercedes stood in her doorway perturbed at the sight of Amy with her back towards her. In the dim light, Amy just out bed with her blue t-shirt and yellow and pink poke-a-dot shorts seemed incapable of causing the torment and grief Mercedes had experienced the night before. Looking at Amy on the phone made Mercedes heart sink; but everything changed once Amy turned around and they stood standing face to face.

"Ugh.' And with that they both turned and went in opposite directions. In the kitchen, Mercedes turned the faucet and watched her pain and frustration pour into her over sized mug. It bothered her that within two weeks the relationship she had with her roommate did a complete 180. Mercedes lingered in her doorway pining after a friend that lay behind closed doors. She tried to remember how this all started; she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was but ever since school started, something was different about Amy. Amy was never home and didn't have a cell phone, so she couldn't be reached. It almost seemed like Amy was purposely avoiding her, but why? Mercedes considered knocking; making amends.

She heard the wind rumble, shaking the whole house. Then she went into her room and closed the door.

When the wind blows. Part One.

I crouched behind a bush, cautiously peering through the leaves, trying to get a glimpse of the scene inside. What was that noise? I thought he was dead, didn't he kill himself? Then what is he doing in the house? Who are all those people? My mind beat furiously with questions. I quietly inched forward, but my foot pressed against something and all of a sudden there was a cacophony of noise. HOLY SHIT! Sirens blaring, lights flashing; me in the spot light! What the Fuck is going on?! Oh my gosh!

Wait.

It's my alarm. I'm awake. I'm awake. Am I? I whipped my head around and saw the object responsible for all the noise. Shit. 1:23. How long has my alarm been going off? Since 11? Shit. Oh well it's Sunday...then why did I set my alarm? My mind wandered into consciousness as I stretched and yawned myself out of bed. I have a splitting headache. Ughh...too much wine. I need water.

Wait.

What's that noise? Someone's outside. What time is it? 1:36. OK, so if my clock is 16 minutes fast then it's actually...ummmm, it's Fuck. 1:20? Is that right? 1:20. But I thought she had church? A door slams. OK, maybe she left. Nope, another door. She just left? Another door. Goddammit! I need water. I open my bedroom door and am relieved to see my roommate's bedroom door open across the hall. Good, she did leave. Thank God! Whoa! Shiiit! There she is reaching for the telephone in the corner of the living room. Her blue t-shirt and yellow and pink poke-a-dot shorts are obnoxious. Why is she still here? We both grunt a greeting. As I fill my big mug with water, I hear her on the phone.

Wait.

Silence.

Both behind close doors with the living room as our buffer zone we wait. We wait for the other person to make the first move. We're roommates, but more than that we're friends; and that was the most I've seen and talked to her in weeks. What happened? We waited so long to live together. We waited until we were sure that living together wouldn't come between us. We can do it. We did it. Then something happened. And now there's an uncomfortable tension between us, and I'll be damned if I make the first move.

Wait.

There's a knock on my door. Was it? Wait. Was that just the wind? No! There it was again. It is a knock? It is? I'm suddenly nervous. What is she going to say? What am I going to say? But this is it. This is what I've been waiting for. Finally, there will be some peace in this house. I reach for the door and twist the knob. Open!

Wait.

Nothing. Huh? A door slams. I look across the hall. My roommate is nowhere in sight. But across the hall I see her bedroom door closed.

It was just the wind.