Alfie
She opens the door as she has a thousand times before; today, she takes a few moments to enjoy the rays of today’s champion — who is retreating to a well-deserved rest. She was frozen in the moment of silence as if time had stopped. Suddenly rain rushes over her slender frame; she listens to the wind sing a melody as the raindrops tap on the roof; she tenderly smiles as she recalls the song from her past, “What’s it all about Alfie? Is it just this moment?” She ponders for a second, then chuckles to herself; who is Alfie? What does Alfie have to do with anything?
Her blood boils, that man! A man in the white car raced past her and splashed a dirty insect-infected puddle over her. Drenched in filthy water, standing just outside her doorway — still focused on that ridiculous song from so long ago, she wonders why.
What’s it all about Alfie? And, who cares, she mutters as she draws a hot steamy bubble bath. She pulled the knotted clip from her long blonde hair; her beautiful mane rubbed against her light soft skin and tickled her bouncy breast. Sinking into the warm water, she pops the rainbow bubbles.
Suddenly from the shallow depths of the soapy water, invisible hands grab her, pulling her head under the warm water. She thrashes and squeals to escape. Slippery and unable to grasp at that edge, she panics. With one last burst of strength and energy, she pulls away from the grip of the unknown assailant.
Standing naked, afraid, and dripping soapy water on the marble floor, she looks back at the ceramic clawfoot tub; the water is serene and frothy. She covers herself with a soft pink cotton towel.
Sitting on her bed, trembling with fear, she hears a noise from downstairs. Heavens to Murgatroyd, what is it now? She must let the fear go and stop it from masking her common sense.
Walking down the hall, she feels cool water droplets running down her legs. The water trickles to the floor and dances with each footstep. She feels an unshaken coldness when she silently and slowly walks into the room. She hears a muffled sound. It seems like time has slowed. She cautiously takes one step at a time, anticipating something will surely lunge at her.
What is that? She steps into a shallow puddle. Shaking her foot dry, she thinks about how water is the esteemed guest of this night. The floor creaks and the towel falls as she makes her way to where she hears a rumbling noise. There she stands with her shivering naked body, toes turning hues of blue, and her wet blonde hair tickling the nook of her back. Grabbing her towel, she feels a breeze go across her thighs. She looks up. Shit! The door had blown open; what is that by doorstop? A little shiny trinket box shimmered in the porch light. Anxiety builds while she thinks about the evening’s events.
With a deep breath, she bends over to collect the small box. Her hair falls from around her shoulders and covers her eyes. As she touches the trinket, the lid falls to the wet floor. “Damn!”
Inside is a little piece of paper that reveals two words, “Sorry, Alfie.”
She hears a tune in the darkness, “What’s it all about, Alfie? Is it just for the moment we live? What’s it all about when you sort it out, Alfie? Are we meant to take more than we give? Or are we meant to be kind? And if only fools are kind, Alfie. Then I guess it’s wise to be cruel….”
Headlights flash on, lighting the entire porch, including the concrete steps; Vanessa looks down and reads, “Alfie: non-believers can believe. April 24, 1958 — April 5, 1979.”
She stood in awe, holding the silver trinket box; the white car drove away, disappearing into the night fog of April 5, 1999.
THE END
Yonna Alvarez & Mojha R. MacDowell
2021
