4. The morning after the pursuit of oblivion in which some things are hard to stomach

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The morning after the pursuit of oblivion in which some things are hard to stomach

∘₊✧───≋❈≋───✧₊∘

A blotch. Her face was a blotch.

Red and puffy and sore, with dry skin flaking around her mouth and under her eyes. Her eyes themselves were bloodshot, glazed over with a pink sheer. They looked like grotesque cherries, marinated in a pale yellow substance. No Bakewell tart metaphor, that is for sure.

Her skin felt like it was crawling off her face, peeling, still sore and trying to break free. And, the smell. A smell so strong she could taste it, of drama room stale sweat and feet - only stronger. The colour and shape of brown blisters entered her mind. Brown blisters with flecks of putrid yellow. It was a diseased smell and seemed to be originating from her, maybe her mouth, which had crusted over the night before.

She scrubbed her mouth despite the pain, and blood trickled down her chin. She welcomed the red; blood could only add to the general effect at this point. Curse to the bar last night. Appearances aside, Kally felt awful. Her head, once again, throbbed. Her nose ran and her throat tickled. Those small droplets had worked the night before, and boy was she feeling the effect of this now.

Kally exhaled, panicked. She could not go to work like this. It would be apparent to all what her ailment was. She splashed her face. A damp flannel across her face. She moaned in self-pity. Why, oh why? She was supposed to have only had a few. That turned out, well, how it turned out. At least she had a while to come round. She looked out the window to the sky, the purple shade murky-green tinted, and clarty.

Maybe today would be an inside day.

Inside days were great, as long as she was all stocked up. Plentiful stock to whittle away the hours, cooped up with no company but, she shuddered… her.

She checked the cupboard. A few bottles were there, tucked in at the back; a safety net of sorts. Her face tingled, still raw, and for once, she did not feel her toe. The sky purpled. Murky. She was convinced there would be no school, but she needed to wait for confirmation before breaking from her routine. Cereal does not pour itself, you know.

≋❈≋

Confirmation came and went, in the form of a message to the townsfolk. Magic was high, as signposted by the sky, and movement should be limited to mitigate the effects of the potent magical mischief of the day. According to the powers that be. Serendipitous timing. Kally relaxed. She threw off her work clothes, kicked off her boots and laid out in her armchair, facing the window.

People watching in an empty town.

She stared out, watching the odd person ignoring the guidelines, bobbing into the nooks to keep safe. A fire burnt in the distance. Smoke plumes rose and blackened the already murky sky. The warm orange was welcoming, nostalgic almost. She stayed a while, this way, vegetative, unsure of what to do with herself. No job, no purpose. No point.

≋❈≋

Heaving herself out of the chair, with great effort, Kally made her way once again to the kitchen, and to her favourite cupboard. She reached to the back and grabbed her first bottle. She poured the drink into a newly washed glass. She needed to start the day right. Most likely this would develop into drinking directly from the bottle. Not this bottle though; it was not time for that just yet.

It was only morning, after all.

She chuckled to herself as she waddled back to her seat. The pop of the cap, satisfying and loud, seemed to echo in her solitariness. Her companion was yet to awake. Kally reckoned she had a few hours of peace and she made them count, those hours. Bottles were stacked by her windowsill forming a small triangle. She curled up in her chair, face pressed against the wing, mouth gaping wide, jaw misaligned, all a-dribble.

≋❈≋

Kally was rudely awakened by, amongst other things, a pulsating throb in her toe. It raged and raged, sore and loud, screeching like a siren or a banshee. Throb throb, sob sob. When would it end for her? She thought of Betsy. Guilt entrapped her as she realised she had forgotten. She had been too engulfed in herself to think of poor Betsy. Worse still, she would have to tell her. Otherwise, she would find out somehow.

Toe still throbbing, Kally stood up and dragged a cushioned footstool up towards her armchair. Leg up on the footstool, back sunken into the chair, she braced herself. She peeled off her sock and was surprised to see a bloodied bandage; she must have wrapped it last night. No wonder she was complaining. She would be gasping by now. She laughed despite herself, maybe that was why she was so quiet until now, she’d passed out. Gingerly, Kally undressed her toe. She flinched, preparing for an immediate barrage of abuse.

Instead, her toe spluttered and gasped. It was quite red in the face.

“What the hell did you do to me? I have a banging nail ache. I’ve not been able to breathe, you know. You should let me out more. It’s not fair, you know.”

Kally paused.

“Yeah.”

“You never speak to me anymore either.”

Kally paused.

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, one word answers. Is that what I deserve? After all that’s happened?”

Kally sighed.

“No.”

The toe looked ragged.

“No, it’s not,” Kally expanded.

“Well, that’s a start at least.” The toe huffed. It seeped.

Kally said nothing and dabbed the seeping toe.

≋❈≋

They sat a while in silence, the toe grimacing, Kally dabbing in thought. She looked out to the window. The purple mist still swelled in the sky. She thought again of Betsy and sighed.

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She broke the silence, “So, there’s something I need to talk to you about but I don’t want you to get too, you know.”

“What, what?” snapped the toe, in a bratty manner. “Too, what?”

Kally fumbled over her words, “I, um, didn’t mean it like that.”

“Too, what?” a steely voiced toe commanded a response.

Kally sighed. “Too… emotional. There, I said it, happy now?”

The toe wailed. “No. No, I am not happy.” It sobbed.

“This is why we don’t talk anymore.”

The toe sobbed more.

Kally hit her head with her hands. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” She muttered under her breath.

“Are you calling me stupid?” a bleary eyed, puffy toe asked.

“No, not you, dear. I just. I just don’t know how to tell you this. I’m saying it all wrong.”

The toe gazed at Kally, expectantly, and for once, was quiet.

Kally, with short agitated and raspy breaths, blurted out, “It’s Betsy. Betsy is— well Betsy is— Betsy is dead.”

The toe’s cuticle drooped and sagged, a bottom lip wavering. It quivered and abruptly stopped. No sea of tears cascaded down Kally’s foot. Instead, a purple hue to her toe was creeping in, slowly turning bluer and bluer.

“It’s okay, Katoia. It’s okay.” Kally tried to console her toe. There was no change.

“Katoia. Katoia, please. It’s horrible, it is. I can’t believe it myself, not really. She’d been talking about it for months now, though. She went out on her own terms. Whisked up by the purple mist. You know she liked the purple mist. You know.”

Her toe showed no change, just a darker rim to her eyes. They looked like they were bulging out of the nail.

“Honestly, you’re going to be okay,” Kally trailed off. “Katoia, please, say… something?”

The toe, Katoia, apparently, was still unresponsive and flushed a darker blue. Kally squeezed the base of her toe at the joint, causing Katoia to gasp for air. Katoia immediately burst a main pipe and cried for a long time.

Kally said nothing as this ensued. From experience, there was nothing she could do now. She just had to put up with the trickling of tears down her toe to her heel. She would feel the tenderness of her pruned foot for a few days after this. She, dejected, had wanted to prevent this, but realistically this was always going to happen. Katoia cared for Betsy. She needed to remember that. She may even be scared.

Kally tried to be patient and gently soothed her toe with a rhythmic hush hush, as she thought back to that day.

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It was the day of the play, that fateful day, many many years ago. Kally was at school, excited, an eleven year old girl, excited about her part. She twiddled her fingers, fidgeting as she waited for the lesson to be over. The teacher, Ms Fincher, had spoken about this to her before. At this point, she was standing at the board, telling the class about the history of the purple smog. Kally did not care. She wanted to go for lunch. She willed and willed time to move faster, please magic, be weird, affect time. It did not work, obviously, but well, ahem, a child can dream.

She leapt up in unison with the bell, and rushed out of the door as soon as she could. She bolted down the corridor, keeping to the left. She did not want to cause mass chaos, after all. With all her rush, she was the first to arrive for the rehearsal. She rummaged through the costume trunk and found her moustache and bowler hat. She would have a proper suit for the night, top and tails. No waistcoat, though. No one would be able to see that part. Still, she wanted to prepare as best she could. She popped them on and sat on the bench, scribbling in her notebook as she waited.

She was soon disturbed by multiple footsteps as the majority of the cast and crew appeared. Katoia was nowhere to be seen. Kally sighed. When would she ever turn up on time? They were so different in that respect. If only they were attached by the hip, then she would be punctual, or Kally would be late. She laughed and scribbled down the idea in her notebook.

A purple tinted fog resonated from the mechanical induced fog. They really were going all out for the dress rehearsal.

Katoia, who had arrived at some point, donned her white dress. It floated nicely above her ankles and she had plaited her hair especially. She was brimming with overflowing excitement for her big day. She would get to sing to people. Oh, how she loved to sing. The director ushered them onto the stage. The curtains shut. A bright light shone. The fog billowed out a purple fog and a faint hum of music surrounded them. As the curtains were drawn Kally fidgeted, but Katoia stood tall, her chin jutting out. This was her moment, once again.

It didn’t take long for it to happen. She’d hardly opened her mouth, in fact, before the purple haze consumed her. A shrill shriek ensued. Kally rushed over without thinking and kicked her. Presumably to kick her to safety; that much has never been clear. Katoia screamed out a high pitched melody as she shrunk down into a grimy mess on the end of Kally’s foot. Kally rolled out from the mist, relatively unscathed. A nosebleed was all she suffered. In the commotion, no one thought to question how she was unaffected.

“Move out of the way. Don’t crowd us. Now, come on. Quick. This isn’t going to be an easy one. I can see that already.” Betsy shoved through the crowd to reach Kally and her toe. She crouched down and, looking over her optical instrument in a knowing way, reassured the two girls.

Kally’s toe throbbed and blackened, reaching up her foot, pulsing and almost bubbling with a purple sludge. Katoia, well, I don’t really want to describe Katoia. She was not very well, ahem. A little bit peaky, shall we say?

“I don’t have much time.” She looked up. “To save them both, I need to permanently fuse them.” The room gasped. This had never been done before.

“Erm, Betsy. That seems, erm, rather… drastic, wouldn’t you say? Is it truly…” A wrinkle of her nose. “…necessary?” asked Ms Fincher.

“Piddly sticks and foo frogs. Of course, it’s necessary. Do you want them both to die?” a rather angry Betsy retorted. She always had no patience.

“Well, will they die if we don’t?”

Betsy, with round sincere eyes, replied, “Absolutely. I am sure of it. If not both, definitely Katoia.” She paused, and explained, “When the magic wears off Katoia will fall off of Kally’s foot, and, I mean, as you can see…” Betsy trailed off as she motioned towards Katoia’s mass of torso. “She wouldn’t have everything she needs to survive on her own.”

Ms Fincher nodded in thought.

“And, at the very least, I need to stop this spreading up Kally’s leg.”

Ms Fincher nodded again. “Oh, but. I don’t have the parent’s permission for this.”

“Gracious! I don’t have time for this nonsense. I’ve waited too long as it is! Stop this ridiculousness at once.” She rose up and leaned into Ms Fincher’s face. “RIDICULOUS,” she bellowed.

≋❈≋

Once Kally arrived back home - wailing and sobbing - she ran to her room, flung herself onto the bed and opened her notebook. She started ripping pages out, scrunching them up and raging. Why? Why did this happen? This particular thing, so specific. Her book was ruined, as was her toe. As was her sister’s life. Kally, stunned, immediately felt guilty. How could she be so distraught about this when poor Katoia was a toe? Sure, she’d spent a lot of time writing her story, about the big bad toe, and she surely couldn’t continue with it now. Not now it reflected real life.

She was not a big toe. She did have a deformed big toe though. Her sister is her big toe.

How do you come to terms with that?