She awakes to total darkness. Not another sleepless night, she thinks to herself. She rolls into her favorite position, cuddling on her side with her pillow. A few minutes later she accepts the fact that she's not going to sleep so she reaches for her brand new Blackberry 8900.
Time slips by as she blogs about recent events, debating if this will be one of the few that gets posted. She hears Courtney's alarm and checks the time. 5:30, already? Time to try to sleep again.
A few moments seem to pass. Her door opens. She slowly untangles herself from the cocoon of covers and sleepily opens her eyes just enough to make out Courtney's figure in the darkness. Checking to see if she's up early again, no doubt. She stands at the foot of the bed, expectingly, and then slowly backs out of the room. It isn't long until the sun breaks through the sheer lace curtains and awakes Christina from her short respite from insomnia.
She drinks the remainder of the water on her bedside table, staggers to the bathroom and begins an unusually long steamy shower. With her contacts in place, she can finally see the world clearly. She tumbles the idea of getting Lasik around in her still groggy mind. Time to finish that blog, she reminds herself. She heads to the study where she sees Courtney's memory box open on the floor and it's contents flung haphazardly across the floor. Another night of gin and regret over the long gone love of her life. She texts, "What did you do?" to her emotionally unhinged best friend.
A breeze blows through her naturally blonde hair. Courtney left the french doors open. Messy drunk. She slides it shut and finally turns towards the desk. Where is the computer? Ugh, it must be broken again and Courtney obviously took it to be fixed. She dreads the idea of having to finish her blog on her Blackberry.
She pauses, scans the room... Memory box... Open drawers... French doors... DVDs on the floor... Computer... Courtney in her room... It was Courtney... It must have been Courtney. She sinks into a chair as she realizes that her inner santuary, her own bedroom, her safety, has been violated by a stranger...
She takes a sip of her cosmo as she stares at a skyscraper that looks more like a soda can than a work of South Florida architecture. The sun is unusually strong today. She walks to the side of the rooftop pool and the scenarios rush through her head, mingling with reality... The gun, the puff of smoke, the deafening sound in the quiet darkness, the weakness as she reaches for her phone. Struggling to dial those three life saving numbers. Help would come in time... The pool water is really warm for February, heated, naturally... The flash of metal as the dark figure raises it over his head. The piercing pain. The warm wetness on her chest. The scurrying footsteps... The sun comes out from behind a lone cloud in the sky, where are my sunglasses, she thinks as she squints to keep her focus on the soda can building. Nothing happened. You're safe now. You're safe. It almost sounds comforting.
A pang of hunger. She hasn't eaten today. "Are you blogging?" comes from behind her. She turns to see Dominique smiling. Always a welcome sight. She joins Christina poolside and suggests a walk through a nearby park and a late lunch at one of the two cafes she's recently discovered but hasn't yet patronized. A park. A waterfront lunch. Absolutely.
A friend. A chic afternoon. She's safe. She's safe. Her newest mantra sounds more real as each moment passes.
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