She had been silent for twenty minutes. Prior to that, the little woman’s muffled noises had could be heard through the closed drawer. She pounded against the empty interior, shrieking and thrashing like a caged animal. As minutes wore on, the...
She had been silent for twenty minutes.
Prior to that, the little woman’s muffled noises had could be heard through the closed drawer. She pounded against the empty interior, shrieking and thrashing like a caged animal. As minutes wore on, the situation became more difficult to stomach.
Martin watched the drawer from the foot of his bed, his eyes never leaving it. He wasn’t trying to cause her harm, but wished she would calm down. He should be the one freaking the hell out. He unwittingly became a shoplifter, for fuck’s sake. On the other hand, he’d be losing it too if a man that was three stories high dumped him onto a giant bed.
Martin stood up and approached the desk. He pulled open the drawer cautiously, kneeling down to look at her closely. He half expected the woman to scramble out and lunge towards him, shrieking violently and clawing at his skin.
Instead, he discovered her sitting leaning against the side of the drawer, her legs crossed and elbows resting on her thighs. Her tiny fingers were intertwined, the tips of her thumbs tapping soundlessly against one another. She glowered at the other end of the drawer, her eyes distant and unfocused.
“Have you calmed down then? Sorry about the uh… I didn’t know what else to do,” Martin nodded awkwardly at the drawer, then forced a smile. “What’s your name?”
The woman finally looked up at him. Her teal eyes flickered with hostility, her lips tightened and faintly curled.
“That’s right,” Martin countered. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying.”
Her only response was a disdainful silence. The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits, fastened on him as if she were attempting to intimidate him. But instead of feeling threatened, Martin felt his annoyance steadily growing because of the nature of the matter at hand. He was not in the mood to deal with—whatever the hell she was. Especially on this day and at a moment when he only wished to wash away the memories of this morning with a pint. Plus, her sneaking into his bag made him a thief and the authorities could knock on his at any moment.
But he knew that he couldn’t lose his head, either. Otherwise, he wouldn’t get anywhere.
Martin sighed with exhaustion, closing his eyes tightly while lifting his hands towards his nose and pinched the bridge, battling an imminent headache. He obviously wasn’t going to get through to her—at least not at the moment. More than anything, he craved a fresh bottle of Guinness and a break from the tiny Amazon to take the edge off.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the irate woman. “I see this going nowhere fast,” Martin declared, changing the subject. “Since you’re not up for talking, I can at least make sure you don’t starve. I’m sure you’re famished. I’ll be a tic.” He pushed himself up and moved away from the desk after closing the drawer. He hurried out of the bedroom and towards the refrigerator. After pulling out a cold bottle of Guinness, he reached for a small plastic container containing strips of leftover grilled chicken. He didn’t have the time or energy to order his two weeks’ worth of groceries from the Busy Grocer’s website, so the fridge was next to empty. But Martin at least had something to hold her over for tonight.
After heating up her food in the microwave, Martin returned to his room with a saucer topped with meat and a bottle cap filled with water. He placed them on the top of the desk and carefully opened the drawer that contained the woman. Lifting the saucer of chicken and cap of water off the desk, he cautiously lowered it into the drawer, silently hoping that the woman didn’t sink her teeth into his forearm.
Martin watched as she looked at the serving suspiciously, as if she didn’t know what to make of it. She cocked her head to the side, nudging the cap of water with the tip of her boot.
“It’s water, Love,” Martin said, catching himself chuckling a bit. “And that there on the saucer is something called grilled chicken. It’s all I have at the moment, so I hope that’s alright for now. As for me, I’m having a drink. I need it. Good night.”
Without another word, Martin closed the drawer, leaving only a slit for light, and headed towards the bedroom door, thinking about the mess Chess had introduced him to and hoping that the bottle of bitter liquid sitting on the counter would rinse it off his mind.