Five.

Later that afternoon, I rush around the apartment to get ready for guests, lighting candles and making sure what's in the oven doesn't burn. After I'm sure the place is okay, I wiggle into a gold dress and sit on the bathroom counter, pulling my hair back away from my face, and smudging on black eyeliner and deep red lipstick. I step back and look at my reflection, a girl ive never seen before staring back at me. When I smile, she comes to life, looking more like a stripbunny than the girl id intended.
I don't admit that I didn't dress up like this for myself.
There is a buzz and I let in Charlotte from downstairs. When she makes it to the door there is a man with her, in a dark suit and a superman teeshirt underneath, typical of the dumb ones she likes.
"Syria! Oh sweetie I haven't seen you in ages. What do you think of my hair? Do you like it? Being a blonde is so much fun, although not naturally of course, you know that."
She spins around, brushing her hands through her perfectly curled hair. This is a Charlotte that i've never seen before. I pull at my dress, thinking about what Adam would think of her. He probably would have liked the old Charlotte better.
"Its....different. I'm not used to seeing Blonde Charlotte."
She pouts, puffing her cheeks up. "You don't like it. I should've known you wouldn't. Well, whatever, Herold likes it, don't you sweetie?"
The man in the suit puts an arm around her, and she leans upwards to kiss a clean-shaven cheek. Charlotte turns back towards me.
"Is Rebecca here already? She left a bit earlier than I did, I think to pick up booze, or something. Oh, I forget. Is she here?"
As I shake my head, a tall brown haired girl appears in the stairway.
"Rebecca!" Charlotte squeals, as if they didn't live together. Rebecca squeals back and hugs Char and I.
"Thank god you're here. Come on, lets go sit inside. These heels are killing me..."
Both girls teetered inside, chattering about the designer brand, Herold trailing behind them. I close the door slowly, wondering where Adam is.
"So, I have news! Herold and I have decided to move in together!" Char says excitedly. Herold nods and Rebecca claps, leaving me to smile half heartedly. My eyes move back in the direction of the door.
"Syria? Are you alright? You look bored." Rebecca frowns.
"No, I'm sorry, of course im not bored. Im glad you two are moving in. That must be romantic!" I say, smiling fully this time. Char looks at me.
"Syria! How could you! You invited a man and didn't tell me. Oh I feel so stupid, putting all the attention on me. Is he the one?"
I laugh at Char's drama. "Of course he isn't. And its not what you think, I mean I did invite him, but its not like that. We're just friends."
"That's what they always say. Anyway, its time you had a man in your life. You are always taking care of everyone but yourself."
Smiling, I look at Rebecca. "Oh and SHE doesn't need a man?"
"Hey, I have a perfectly long line of men waiting for me at this moment. Char's right, its you who need's a plaything!" Rebecca winks.
I smile and glance at the door. "It's okay, anyway, he probably forgot. Let's go ahead and eat, before the food gets cold."

Late into dinner, when the girls are all drunk, there someone knocks on the door. I blush and get up suddenly, almost tipping over my chair.
"I'll go and get it, you keep chatting okay?"
Char ignores me, draping herself over Harold. I walk through the hallway and open the door. Outside, Adam is leaned up against the opposite wall.
"Hey." He says, raggedy in the way I like.
I smile at him. "Hey. Where's your costume?"
He looks at me, confused, then looks at my dress. "Oh! Cleopatra, my queen. You didn't tell me this was a costume dinner!"
I blush again, partly at my mistake and partly at the way he looked at me.
"Hold on, I'll be right back." I rush to my room and back, bringing a black mask. I reach forward to hand it to him, then change my mind, and carefully tie the mask around his face. He raises his eyebrows, giving me one of his famous cheshire grins.
"How do I look?"
"You look.."
"Syriaaaa! Come back, and bring your friend!" Charlotte calls in a drunken, girlish voice from the next room.
Adam stands up and follows me inside and to the dining room, where Charlotte sits by herself. I see Rebecca's silhouette as she stands on the small deck, smoking.
"Who is this beautiful thing, and why is she sitting by herself?" Adam's question is directed at me, but he stares at Char and the cleavage showing on the top of her lime green sundress.  Charlotte giggles.
"This is Adam."
"Oh I had a boyfriend named Adam, he was a dreadful mistake. My name is Charlotte but you can call me sexy." She laughs.
"Char?" Adam squints at her. "What the fuck!"
Charlotte stands up, knocking over her chair. "No. Not you."
"What the fuck happened to you. You just left, left me with a goddamn LETTER and now you're some dumb blonde?! Who are you?"
"You are the one that fucked things up. It's not my fault you always fuck things up. And its none of your business who I am anymore! I didn't want to be some sick goth girl who dates broke assholes like you. So what?"
"FUCK YOU, CHAR."

Charlotte runs into the next room, leaving me and him standing alone. Adam glances at me angrily and goes after her. There is a flush in the next room and Herold comes out. He looks around at the chair on the floor, then at me, my eyes wide.
"Don't TOUCH me!" There is the sound of glass shattering from the next room. Harold and I run in, where Char screams that Adam attacked her. Adam sees Herold.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Herold looks at Adam, his hands up, backing away from Charlotte, and punches him. Adam lands hard on his back, and Char runs out the apartment. Everything is fuzzy, and I hear Rebecca desperately calling for Charlotte outside. Harold looks at Adam, blood running from his nose, and leaves me to him. I'm not sure what happened. I try to pull Adam up onto the couch, but he is too heavy for me, so i grab a pillow and push it under his head. I sit down on the floor beside him, broken glass littered around us, and I want to disappear.

Four.

It’s October 31st and I wake up to the sound of tea boiling. Lillian has already taken Caillen out, and I am alone in the apartment. I rub my eyes, and pull myself out of bed, lazily walking into the kitchen, to turn off the stove. Its beautiful outside, and light shines through the stained glass and shatters across the kitchen floor. It's Halloween, and across the street strangers have set out jack o lanterns, waiting to flicker for the night. Orange and yellow leaves have turned the streets into an acrylic playground, and children skip along the sidewalks, dreaming of the candy and costumes tonight. Halloween is today, and so I know that Caillen is wearing his batman outfit, like i know all the children will wear tonight, until October turns to November and the orange fades away.

I shake myself from my thoughts and turn back towards my bedroom, skirting around the stacked books by the couch. Inside I get dressed, and check the time. It’s twelve, and I have classes at Miller Community College in two hours, before dinner with Adam and Charlotte and Rebecca and probably a boyfriend, caught in Char's trap.
Outside the wind bights my cheeks, turning skin pink. I take the Marta four blocks south, then change trains as I head towards Miller. Its a decent school, although somewhat off the map, and I take abstract classes, still deciding on a major. I only have two classes today, Roman history and philosophy, the first slow and sleepy, full of keyboard clicking and hushed voices as the class stares down another powerpoint. Afterwards I have a small break, where i walk to the on-campus cafe. Inside it is warm, the smell of coffee mingling with new ink, as a printer in the corner spins out essays. I sit down with chai tea and daydream out the window. Soon after, i check the time and realize Its time to go to my next class. Its way across campus, and I don't have a car, so I Im not paying attention when a boy turns the corner and slams into me. My notebook tumbles across the sidewalk, papers scattering in the wind.
"Oh god im so sorry! Are you ok?!"
I look up at him, slightly dazed. "Yeah...I think so."
"Here.." He starts scrambling to pick up my books. "Shoot, im so sorry. Im a disaster." He smiles, looking flustered. "My car is just around the corner. Can I give you a ride?"
I nod and let him lead me to his car.

When we get to class, he has already told me most of his life story, about how he was raised in Kansas with two little sisters and his mom. He's endearing in the best way, not noticing that we've stopped.
"Oh sorry, I'm rambling aren't I?"
I laugh, forgetting that I'm late to class. I get out of the car, gathering up my papers.
"Hey." He blushes, looking at me. "I think I owe you a coffee.... Would you, uh... Do you have classes next week?"
"Yeah, I have psychology." I smile, waiting.
"Oh well maybe I can, um, bring you it then or something."
"Thats ok, don't worry about it."
"I'll see you next week though?" He stumbles over his words, blushing more.
"Yeah, okay. Hey, I never got your name?" 
"Its Calvin. Oh, and, uh, Happy Halloween!"
I smile again and turn around to walk up the stairs and through the double doors to class.

Three.

I woke around eleven to the screeching of a kettle on the stove and a clatter of pots. I pulled myself out of bed and into the kitchen where Caillen stood, grinning, pancake mix stains on his sweater. There was an assortment of dishes scattered around the kitchen, and a container of milk on the floor.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, bending down to wipe flour off his nose.

“Making breakfast.”

I laughed and picked him up, a bowl of mix in his arms.

“You whisk, I’ll pour!”

He nodded, looking stern, and slowly continued stirring, his fingers wrapped around the spoon.

After breakfast, Caillen slid out of his chair and climbed into my lap, looking at me expectantly.

“What day is it?” He chirped.

“Its Thursday, little bird.”

“Is it the Thursday?”

“I think it is.” I said and kissed his forehead. “Go put on your coat! Lets go rescue a pumpkin.”

Caillen ran excitedly to his room, and within a matter of minutes he appeared in a little blue sailors jacket and socks.

“Will you help me with my laces?”

“Of course, little bird.” I scooted my chair back and walked over to him, kneeling over to tie his shoes. “Have you eaten enough? Have you taken your meds?”

He followed me over to the counter where a little blue box with Caillen's name on the top rested. I opened the lid and pulled out a red pill and a white pill, handing him a plastic cup of water. He quickly swallowed the pills and opened his mouth to show me.

“What a brave little bird! Let's go get that pumpkin.”

The first year we moved to this small town, we were low on money and Caillen was spending most time in the hospital. One day I was picking him up, when we saw a big brown truck with a batch full of perfect pumpkins. There were people gathered around, sorting through them all to find the one they wanted. Caillen looked at me and looked at the truck, silently begging for one. I gave him the few dollars we had left, and he picked out the saddest, slightly deformed pumpkin there was. I asked him why he had picked it, and he replied that he wanted a pumpkin that was the most like him.

Every year since we have gone back, no matter what money we’ve had, and let him rescue another lonely pumpkin.

When we got to the truck, Caillen began his search and I looked around at our neighbors, all focused on picking another pretty pumpkin. As I searched one out, i saw a man struggling to carry his pumpkin with grocery’s stacked up in his arms.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, watching him.

“Uh..yeah i guess?” He replied. Caillen ran to me, his pumpkin in arm, and I gently set mine down.

“Is that the one you want?” I asked Caillen, smiling. “Can you carry it all by yourself? We are going to help mister...uh…”

“Luther.”

“Luther with his groceries. Ok?” He nodded and we walked back towards the apartments.

________________

Later that night, after Caillen and I had stopped by the neighborhood cook-out, I left Caillen at home with Lillian and got dressed for work. I hated bar tending, I was only barely twenty one, but money was money and we needed a way to pay for my classes and Caillen’s medical bills. When I got to the club, Adam sat in the corner of the bar, cigarette in one hand, liquor in the other. A strip bunny danced seductively around him, but he took no interest, looking, bored, at his crappy cellphone. I slid behind the bar, and made him another drink.

“I heard you were here before.”

He looked at me surprised, and I pushed his drink towards him, trying to be coy.
"One of the bunny's told me that a 'handsome, greasy young man' stopped by and i just assumed.."

“It's alright, I would have, too. Yeah I stopped by. Not at the right time, apparently. I didn't know when you would be here. It sucked, by the way,”

“Why are you back?”

“I needed a drink that wasn't from a crappy leprechaun pub.”

“So, you didn't come for me?”

“That too. I couldn’t resist.”

I blushed, letting go for a minute.

“I’m having some people over tomorrow night. You should come.”

He thought for a minute.

“I guess I’m not doing anything.” He puffed his cigarette and got up to leave.

“Ok I’ll see you, then?”

He smiled and walked out.

Two.

A cigarette hangs limp from his lips, and the rain pours down, making his hair stick to his skin. Caillen skips ahead, humming an unfamiliar tune.

“So, have you been to the strip club?” He said, his eyes trying to pull me in. I laughed, not completely sure if he was joking, and decided to play it off.

“Yeah, I work there.”

He looked at me, eyes wide, his cigarette falling into the mud.

“You….strip?”

I laughed again, thinking he was cute when he was caught off guard, even if he didn't want to be.

“It’s just temporary, to pay for community college classes, and Caillen's medical bills. I’m a bartender.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Maybe I’ll come visit you sometime….”

Maplewood Crest is in front of us, and we have stopped walking. He suddenly looks around.

“How did you know?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“How did you know this is my building?”

I laugh again. “This is my building!”

“No way!”

“Yeah! Room two-two-one!” I point up to my window.

“Twelve forty!”

“I can’t believe we've never seen each other before.”

“Me too! How could I miss such a pretty face?” He grins, flirting.

I smile down at my shoes, then turn and walk up the stairs, Caillen and Adam trailing behind me.
Caillen gives me a look, and i turn again to Adam.
"Can I see you tomorrow? I need to get Caillen to bed."
"Sure, are you working? I'll stop by."
I nod, and watch him walk down his hall.

At my apartment, there is a box waiting outside. It has coffee and creamer and books, and a note for Caillen from Kuvera, our neighbor. I smile and carry the box in, thinking about Adam.

One. (But Really Two)

The day turns dark, and rain begins to come down heavily, as though trying to drown the apartment and all its beasts. I sit under the blankets on the worn down sofa and listen to the water spill against the windows and onto the people below. The sky is a bruised blue, a rebellion against the time (only four p.m.), and soon I have to go get Caillen from the local coffee shop where Aunt Lillian watches him until he is too young to stay.

As i put on my raincoat my eyes catch the reflection of a girl staring back at me.

She is messy, and disheveled, and not quite pretty.

“...but art isn’t supposed to be pretty, it’s supposed to make you feel something.”

I smile with a kind of recklessness and, forgetting the raincoat, close the door to apartment 221 and step out into the rain.

Walking towards the cafe, I watch the lost cars go by. The street smells faintly of cigarettes and sad boys and cheap perfume. The rain slows to a drizzle and Karmic Cafe appears up ahead, its windows grey with foggy kisses.

As i open the door the familiar smell of coffee and paint covers me like a curtain. Low voices and the clatter of plates is loud against the weather outside.

I look around at the familiar walls, draped with dusty burgundy and gold.

“Shit!” someone says from the back kitchen and there is a shatter as glass hits the floor.

Lillian’s broken something again, I smile and pull aside the beaded curtain in the doorway. Caillen is the first to see me, and he grins as he organizes tea packets into jars. Lillian is bent over with a dustpan in her hand, cursing under her breath as she sweeps up the little diamonds that litter the ground. I laugh and she looks up.

“Hi baby, don’t laugh, would you mind getting the trashcan for me? There is a pot brewing and you've got to turn that off. Is anybody at the counter? Damn my shaky hands.”

“No one is at the counter Lillian. Here, let me help.”

I turn and grab the trashcan, dumping the little diamonds into it. The coffee is boiling over so I grab a mug and turn the heat off.

“Caillen? Are you o.k. in here for a while?”

He nods happily so I turn and walk out of the kitchen, coffee in hand.

There is a bookshelf in the corner, and I grab a worn favorite and curl into a couch. Outside it has started raining again, and there are shadows on the glass. The door opens and a guy stumbles in with a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. He’s gorgeous in a depressed way, black jeans slung low on his hips. His hair is wet from grease or rain or maybe both. He walks to the counter and orders his coffee black, and i'm only half reading the book by now. It isn't until he turns around and scans the room for a place to sit that he sees me, and takes his cigarette out of his mouth.

He looks at me and i look at him,

and then he is grinning like a cheshire cat

and walking over.

“It has a terrible ending”

“What?” I blink.

“That book. It sucks.”

The book.

Blushing, I flip it over, pretending to look at its cover, and I feel him sitting down beside me.

“What’s your name?” He asks in a way that makes you wonder if he is talking to you or himself.

“Um, Syria.” I say and look at him.

The corners of his mouth turn up.

“Like the place?”

I don't respond, just smile. He pulls out another cigarette and sticks it in his mouth.

“I’m Adam.”

“Why don't you?”

“Why don't I what?

“Why don't you like the book?”

He looks at me and shrugs in a melodramatic way. “Its just like the author purposely made the most pretentious character he could.” He rolled his eyes and took another puff.

I laughed to myself, thinking that if he were some character somewhere, people would think the exact same thing about him.

And he’s right, but I don't want to admit it.

I stand up, and the book falls off my lap.

He grabs the book off the floor, winks, and walks over to the counter.

“Two blacks, please.”

The lady at the counter, not Lillian but her coworker, Beatrice, raises her eyebrows at him. “That all?”

He rolls his eyes again and flicks his cigarette onto the counter.

I look at him and realize hes buying me coffee.

“Wait, i have to go. I have to take my little brother home.”

He takes a puff, smiles, and says

“Lets go.”

Before.

THE DAY began with a solitary ray of sunlight slipping between pulled curtains and splashing upon hardwood floor. It was the hottest day of the year, but nevertheless the smell of coffee mingled with new paper as a steamy mug was set atop a teetering pile of dog-eared books. White sheets were pulled back and a hand reached down to the coffee mug. The hand belonged to a red haired girl, in a blue flannel shirt spotted with bleach and dried paint. Sleepy eyes blinked around the room, a simple room, covered in polaroids and stray paint and canvases, some covered, some untouched. 
Footsteps pattered across the floor outside the bedroom, and a small boy opened the door and ran inside, slipping under the covers and cuddling into the neck of the girl. She stretched, and wrapped her arms around the boy. 
"Good morning, Caillen." she yawned. Little blue eyes peeked at the girl.
"Good morning, Syria." he responded shyly. He reached for the mug and took a tentative sip, and then made a face as the black drink ran bitterly down his throat. Syria laughed, and took the mug back, the boy smiling back at her. "Will you read to me?" Caillen asked.
Syria reached for a book, her fingers curling around Walt Whitman.
"O Captain! My Captain...."