One: Stella

“Chaos is a friend of mine.”
Bob Dylan


Chapter One
So This Is The New Year

Stella Watson stared at the cracked spine of a lime wedge at the bottom of her glass. She poked at it with the tiny black straw, pushing it around between the melting ice cubes. It was her sixth in a matter of an hour; the hour she’d been waiting for Charlie to show up. She glanced at the time on her cellphone and sighed when she realized it was already ten p.m. on New Years eve and she had no where to go. Instead she was sitting in a tiny, nearly empty bar that catered to middle-aged gay men and gold-digging minors. She was spending the night with some old men with the New Years festivities playing on the television. The faces on the TV were unfamiliar. She hadn’t known how far she’d fallen behind on media and how little she cared to get caught up on it.

“I still can’t get over it. Stella Watson, sitting here in the flesh. And alone,” said the man behind the bar. He slid another rum and coke into her hands and winked. With a damp cloth he wiped up the cup ring on the counter and stood back to stare at her.

“I still can’t get over it. Mark Watson, standing there on that side of the bar. And employed,” she responded, with a fake look of shock on her face. She never thought she would see the day her little brother would be making his own money. And never would she think he would be serving drinks to middle-aged gay men in the Village. He was no longer an American Eagle poster boy, but looked the part of the fourth Jonas brother in a pair of black jeans, white collared shirt and a skinny black tie. His dark hair was messy, but in a stylish manner. The man at the end of the bar hadn’t taken his eyes off Mark the entire evening.

“Your date?” Stella asked, nodding at the staring man.

Mark looked and laughed. With a wink he told her, “Flirting with men is easy when you think about the tips you can make. Honestly, I have to do nothing, just laugh at their jokes and dress like I belong here. It’s not bad work.” He grabbed a bottle from beneath the counter and poured an ounce of vodka into a pair of shot glasses. Handing one to his sister he told her, “Plus, I can drink for free.”

They did the shots together and slammed the empty glass onto the bar. Stella wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a sip from her rum and coke to stop the burning in her throat.

A silence fell between them. There was nothing left to say. The year apart hadn’t changed anything. Her brother moved to the end of the counter to chat with his admirer. The man’s face lit up at the attention and Stella felt sick to her stomach. Her brother never ceased to annoy her. She picked up her cellphone, hoping she’d missed a text or a call. There was nothing. No one had made any attempt to contact her. Not even Charlie. She tucked her hiking pack under the chair and headed for the bathroom. Down the stairs she walked in lingering steps. She was no longer in a rush to go anywhere. Time was going to go by extremely slow and she knew that the night was going to be a long one. There would be no where to get a place on New Years eve, especially at 10:30 at night.

The bathroom was too well lit for her liking. She couldn’t avoid how blood shot her eyes had become in the hour inside the lounge. She was tired, jet lagged from the four and a half hour flight. The excitement of seeing her best friend had kept her awake, pretty much hyped to the point she couldn’t even read her copy of Less Than Zero. She had re-read the first page at least four times before giving up and shoving it back into her bag. She had past the time talking to the boy sitting next to her and it hadn’t seemed too bad. But now the lack of sleep caught up to her. The always shadowy circles under her brown eyes were extremely dark, making them appear hallow. Her hair was greasy, separating in chunks close to the roots. She wondered if anyone would notice how round her face had become, how she had put on an inch around her waist and weight on her ass and hips too. They would notice. That wasn’t something that would get by them.

She pulled her hair into a messy pony tail, using the elastic from around her wrist. Her bangs, which were cut straight across her forehead just above her eyebrows, looked filthy. She wished she’d had time to shower, to make herself look better. If Charlie ever contacted her she would have to see him for the first time in six months looking dirty and fat. He would think she’d let herself go. Her stomach twisted up at the thought.

The cellphone vibrated in her pocket. She nearly dropped it trying to pull it out with her shaking, anxious fingers. She flipped it open and selected the message. She hoped it would be Charlie, but instead Lucy’s name started off the text, followed by “where are you?” Disappointed she wasn’t able to answer. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and headed back up to the bar. Mark was entertaining a group of extremely drunk girls with extremely fake IDs who had packed themselves into a booth near the back of the lounge. Stella stormed past and back to her things. She grabbed her unfinished drink and drained it. The lime wedge was bitter, but she bit into it and spit it back into the glass. In one fluid movement she put down her glass, picked up her back and hoisted it onto her back. It was heavier than she remembered when carrying it from the airport, but she tried not to think about it. She pulled some money from her pocket and counted out several twenties.

“Stella, listen, keep your money,” Mark said, “I know you were counting on the money like we were. I can’t believe that bitch stiffed us all.” Her brother gave her a sympathetic look and pushed her money away. She hoped that she wasn’t blushing at the comment.

“How did you afford the flight back anyhow?” Her brother questioned with a raised eye brow.

“Cheap flights last minute. The plane was pretty much empty,” she lied and shrugged. With a nod he turned away from the bar and said, “Let me know when you decide to visit mom. I’ll go with you. I don’t want to leave you alone there when you give her the bad news.”

“I have to go, Mark. I have to try and find a place to stay tonight,” Stella told him. Her heart was beating fast and her mind was racing, going through all the places she could try to find an opening. But nothing seemed reasonable. It was New Years. She was so mad at Charlie she couldn’t even stand to think about it.

“You know, I’d let you stay, but I have a crazy girlfriend and a screaming four month old in a bachelor apartment. It wouldn’t work out for anyone,” Mark said as she turned away from him.

“I know. It’s cool. I’ll call you, okay?”

They said nothing more to each other as she walked out of the lounge and into the busy streets. People moved in every direction. Cars crawled down the road, avoiding the people who took no precaution when crossing. As she headed toward College st. she couldn’t help wondering if the city had always been so filthy and that feeling only got worse as she ran across the street and hoped onto the street car.

It was hard not to think about the smell of urine and unwashed bodies that seeped into her nostrils when she put her hiking pack onto the seat beside her. Had it always been that way or had the time away ruined her tolerance for such things? She wondered the same thing about the entire state of the city. The air seemed heavier and more sour than she remembered and the streets were far more unkept. The garbage strike she'd heard of was over months ago, but despite that there were still over flowing garbages, bits and pieces sticking out of the snow mounts. The sight was unnerving. It was enough to make her think about getting on a plane and heading the back way she'd come.

But instead she took the phone from her pocket and responded to Lucy’s text, telling her Charlie had bailed and asked how she was supposed to get to the house she was meant to be staying at, renting from Charlie’s friend. Lucy responded right away with the directions, saying that she was there and that the party would be going all night.

The last thing Stella wanted was a party. All she really wanted was a shower, water and a warm place to sleep. From past experiences and all the stories she heard while she was gone, there was no doubt that the party would be going on until close to sunrise. There would be no sleeping for another eight hours at least. The idea make her feel nauseous and anxious and tempted her to turn around and go back. There were so many things pulling her in that direction.

Lucy’s response gave her the exact address and Stella sighed as she realized she was too far north, but stayed on the tree car until Bathurst. From there she got off, heading south, trying to think of all the things she would say to Charlie when she finally faced him at the house. She wouldn’t back down and let him think it was nothing. It would be the first time they’d seen each other in six months. He owed it to her to be there. She was so mad she could scream.

But a text message interrupted her thoughts. The phone vibrated against her thigh. An unknown number popped up when she flipped it open. The area code was 416. She wondered if it could possibly be Charlie with an excuse of course. She opened the text and sighed when she realized it wasn’t. Instead of an apology it read, “It’s Logan from the plane. Wanna say thanks 4 the company. Show me the city?”

Without a response she clicked the phone shut and turned west down a quiet residential street. There were large trees on the front lawns. Most of the houses were dark, but those that weren’t were lively. People in the windows and on front lawns. Despite the people outside there was something still about the street. This would be the street she was living only temporarily. If anywhere this would be the perfect place. The houses reminded her of Aunt Judy’s with porches and gardens out front instead of huge garages. The homes had so much character with painted shutters in a variety of colours and stone steps which gave a welcoming feel. There was a pinch in her stomach at the thought of Judy’s house; empty now.

But there was only so much time to think about it. Before she could even see the house she heard the voices and the music. An older song was playing from somewhere inside. Boys Noize was the artist, she recalled. The song title had slipped her mind. Although she tried to convince herself otherwise she knew it was the house before it came into view. The was the kind of welcoming she’d been dreading. There would be no sleep until sunrise. She checked the time on her phone. It was eleven thirty already. Almost time for the count down. But it meant the night was almost over.

When the house finally came into view she was impressed. It was a red brick, semi-detached home. It had charm like all the rest on the street. The garden out front had grown wild in the warmer months and was now brown and unkept with a layer of snow covering it. The cement steps were crumbling in the corners, but otherwise fine. The porch held several people, leaning against the wooden rail and talking with drinks in one hand and a cigarette or other inhale-able items in their hands. She wondered if she could recognize most of the faces, but she didn’t dare look. Instead she went straight up the wooden steps to the door and pushed it open. No one spoke a word as she passed.

The front door opened into a narrow hallway that was littered with shoes of all sorts. She stepped over them walked only a few feet before the house opened up right in front of her. The dark stained hardwood floors stretched on forever. The house was narrow, but long and sleek. The living room was the first room she stepped into. An exposed brick fire place was set into the wall. Several girls sat around it, smoking while people danced behind them to the DJ in the corner who Stella recognized, but couldn’t place. Maybe he’d DJed in the clubs she’d once frequented. She wasn’t sure anymore. She didn’t care to find out either.

There were people filling every inch of space. Girls stood against the walls in tiny skirts and dresses, smiling at boys who walked past, searching the line up for their type. People danced with their hands in the air or on the body of someone else. Stella moved from the living room into the kitchen, trying to avoid hitting anyone with her hiking pack, which was cutting into her shoulders. Before she could pushed through the swinging doors someone grabbed her arm and said in a deep voice, “Stella Waston?” Stella turned to face a guy she remembered from the Social. He’d bar tended there for a year and began hanging out with their crew not long after he started sleeping with Charlie. He appeared almost exactly the same, but maybe a little thinner.

“Yeah. Hey, it’s been a long time,” she tried to laugh, but even she knew how fake it sounded.

“Lucy told me you’d be back in town tonight. I didn’t think you’d show up here though. I know how you were about house parties,” he told her, fiddling with his sleeve, exposing his tattooed arms. His eyes fell on the ground and Stella knew.

“I take it you’re not hanging out with Charlie these days, huh?” Stella asked. He just shook his head so Stella went on, “I guess that means you don’t know where he is?” He shook his head again. With a small pat on his shoulder, Stella left him alone and pushed her way into the kitchen. A bunch of boys stood around the kegs, laughing and pumping for anyone who needed a drink. A few of the boys that she remembered from the skate parks nodded at her. She waved and asked, “You guys seen Charlie?” They all shook their heads. She pulled her phone out and texted him, “Where the fuck are you?”


Next Chapter:
"Two: Lucy"