The Simple Truth

Janis Joplin 

Janis Joplin stares down from over the fire place as Rita wakes in a narcotic fog that could close an airport. She pushes herself back up onto the lounge using the coffee table as a lever, her hand upends the cereal bowl, and it skittles across the floor, settling itself against pillows, plates, books and other floorboard debris.

Yesterday’s phone call comes flooding back. The simple truth, she thinks. What to
do about the simple truth. Does she still even know what truth is? She reaches for the last roach, sucks and closes her eyes. Her mother comes through loud and clear “smoking that shit will kill you Rita.”

 Yeah, yeah, she thinks to herself “But... I’m still bloody here.”

She sits forward leaning over her knees, she moves to drop the roach into the cereal bowl, remembers she’s knocked it flying. Heavy Metal beats through the wall from next door in time with her pounding head.

If only she hadn’t answered the telephone, fucking telephone call from her brother Bill. She takes another drag, her throat is raw, her mouth dry, and she moves her tongue over her teeth to find some moisture. Rita wonders if there’s any wine left. She sees the empty bottle under the coffee table and guesses not, then drops the last of the roach in a coffee cup.

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The cat jumps up with a plaintive meow, she pushes him back to the floor, he stalks to the kitchen, and she whispers ‘there’s no cat food. Louder she yells “turn the bloody music down will ya.’

Last night was a massive blow out. The phone call brought all that shit back, all the shit over Robert.

The simple truth is Robert was an arse. He beat her; he whored her, and left her without the will to care. Yet her mother never stopped liking Robert.

She no longer looks for work what’s the point. Robert taught her other ways to pay the rent. She no longer talks to her family, either, what’s to say.

Rita walks into the kitchen and gets a class of water. The cat stands on the table eating last night’s takeaway. She doesn’t shoo him off. She pulls out a chair, sits at the table with the cat’s arse in her face. Just about sums life up she thinks.

 

Her brother’s news that’s what did it.

At first it was all heavy breathing, thought it was a crank call, she wishes it had been, as she goes to hang up, he says “it’s Bill.”

“Shit Bill she says, long time no see, who died.” silence meets her sarcasm. Bill says “actually it’s Mum. Mum has died.” Bill tells her the funeral date, and then hangs up. No, I’m sorry, no are you alright, no nothing.

 The simple truth is her mother is dead. Rita’s not sure how she feels about death.  She’s not even sure she cares.

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