Percival Chapter One Part Nine

“What’cha going to be? A writer.” She turned away from the bookcase and opened her purse and pulled out a stick of gum.

“I don’t know yet. I’m not sure about it. Maybe a doctor.” He was trying to impress her.

She sat down on the corner of the bed with their legs almost touching. He eyed her white stockings and his insides felt ablaze.

“You seem a tad nervous. Do I make you nervous?” she said.

“No,” he said and straightened his back.

Her fingers crawled onto his leg and he involuntarily tightened his muscle. She smiled. “What’s wrong? Is it me?”

“No it’s not you. I’m…um….doing a survey for my college.”

“What type of survey?” she questioned.

“I can’t have sex for a month. I have to check back for any signs of depression and health problems.” He always had a good imagination but he was surprised at how easy he pulled that out of nowhere. “But you can have the money anyways since you probably need it more then I do.”

She took the money and stuffed half of it in her bra and put the rest into her pocketbook. Her hand lingered inside her purse. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure go ahead.”

Her high heels clicked on the floor as she entered and shut the bathroom door. Percival fell back onto his bed, his arms spread out, staring at the ceiling, and feeling like a total idiot. He heard a lighter being flicked inside the bathroom. She must be lighting a cigarette or something, he thought to himself. She was in the bathroom for awhile and Percival called out, “Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer but as soon as Percival got up to see if she was okay the door opened. Her shoulders were slumped over, as she made her way back to his bed. Percival stood by the fridge as she passed him, he could tell that she was drugged up. She flopped onto the bed and mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

“I waaas wondering if I could stay overrrrr?” She turned her head and looked at him.

“Sure. You can sleep on the bed.”

“I haveee a……good feeling….about you……you seem…...” The rest of her sentence was inaudible but Percival thanked her anyways.

She slept over that night and left in the morning. The next day she came back with a black eye and explained that Santiago was pissed that she didn’t give him the rest of the money the night before and she passed the whole thing off like it was just a thing that happens.

From then on she started knocking on his door late at night and he would let her in. After a week, he just left the door unlocked, so that she could slip in. She would go into the bathroom and do whatever she did, never doing it in front of him. This past week she started snuggling up under the covers and started to nibble on his ear. Percival wiggled away from her and turned to face her.

“What is it?” she said.

“I have AIDS,” he said and he expected her to jump out of the bed but she smiled. It warmed him that he told her and that she looked comfortable.

Percival Chapter One Part Eight

“Why?” She turned her head and looked at him.

Percival searched for the right words, something witty but nothing sounded right and just before the silence became awkward he said, “I have some money. “

“You do, do you?” She sauntered over to him, sniffling blood.

“Come on in.” He switched the light on and opened the door, searching his jean pocket for his wallet. He had forty-two dollars crumpled in his hand. She came in but left the door cracked, her hand still on the knob. She scanned the room taking in the pictures on the wall and bookshelf.

“You live here?”

“Yea. Almost a year now. What’s your name? I’m Percival.” He sat on the bed trying his best not to intimidate her.

“I’m Candi,” she said.

She let go of the doorknob and walked into the center of the room checking things out, touching a black and white photograph of his mother, a typical high school shot and the only thing he had from her.

“This your mom?” She said.

“Yes. She’s dead now.” He stood up and she eyed him with an arched brow as he moved to open the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I need a Kleenex. I think I bled on your rug. You should clean that up before it dries,” she said, pointing to a dotted trail that ran from the door to where she stood.

“Sure,” he said but he kicked himself for not suggesting to help her earlier. He felt like an ass. He ran into the bathroom and pulled out a fistful of toilet paper and handed it to her. She held it against her nose. “Sorry I should of known.”

“I’m not a…You know…I’m a dancer,” she said. She tilted her head back.

“Oh. That’s cool.” He wanted the words back as soon as he said them. “I mean that’s better then being a prostitute.”

She stared at him and smiled. “I could use some cash though.”

“I have forty-two dollars.”

“We could work something out.”

Percival could feel the heat rise to his head. “Umm you just take it. You need it.”

She laughed. “You got to be kidding?”

“No. Go ahead really. You look like you need it more then I do.”

“Oh this,” she said and held out the bloody toilet paper. “He’s not really that mean of a guy. I kind of deserved it.”

“No one deserves that,” he said.

“You don’t understand,” she said and then changed the subject. “You’re just going to give me this cash for nothing?”

“Well you could stick around and hang out. I don’t care. Watch some television.” Percival picked up the remote and started changing the channel. She didn’t respond and continued to investigate his room. She stopped at his bookshelf.

“You must read a lot . Do you go to school or something? Biology, Chemistry, British literature….” She ran her finger along the books on his shelf.

“I go to Summerset Community College.” Percival felt butterflies in his stomach. This was the first time a woman has been in his room and he tried to act natural about it.

To My Lost Love

Dear Aunt,

Is it so wrong, how I hold you in my arms and we lock eyes during breakfast? You are the sweetest woman I know and now that you are gone, life is bland. Oh Aunt Jemima, I miss you so.

-DavidG

Character Sketch

Sandor Mangini drank the last drop of warm mead in the mug and pushed it towards the wench. She scuttled over to refill it and tucked the coin into her leather pouch on her belt.

“Sandor,” said Boriant, his burly friend. “You must come up with some of that money before they arrive tomorrow.”

“I know,” he replied, as the door to the bar opened and a well-dressed man entered, his cloak dripping rain. He scanned the room from underneath the brim of a hat. Sandor caught a glimpse of the stranger’s sword, as he sat at an empty seat at the end of the bar. “Maybe I just found some.”

“Lager,” the stranger said and the wench opened the spigot of a wooden keg. He slid two coppers to her. “Do you know of any rooms?”

“There’s an inn just down this street. It’s called, The Wandering Bard,” she replied.

“He’s a soldier,” Sandor said into his mug. “Those are military boots and cuffs.”

The door opened and several men entered. The rain smeared dark patches of sot covering their clothes.

“Guess the mines are closing late,” said Boriant. “Do you still want to do this?”

“We need the money,” he replied. The miner’s cacophony drowned out his words.

“No, you need the money.”

The stranger finished off his lager and rose.

“You’re gonna help me right?”

“I get half.”

He put on his cloak and hat and headed for the door.

“Come on. I need it right now.”

He left.

“Half or I’m not in.”

“Done but I’ll remember this.”

They rose and eased their swords from the scabbards, stepping out into the light rain.