The Magazine

The plastic protective cover of the magazine flickered under the bar’s gold fluorescent lights, as she flipped it between her fingers. It had been a week since Alyson’s urgent call. Since then, she has sent over a copy of the current magazine. It was nothing special, containing the usual flashy photos of models and various ads that stood out from the boring column. On a normal day, Emma would not dare to be seen with such a flimsy piece of advertisement. However, in this instance, her green eyes were drawn to the small ad in the bottom corner. It announced in bold letters that the John Abanaki Apartment Building was currently on the market and was on its way to be demolished. Emma could not help but wince reading the familiar name. 

It had been two years since she last heard it. Two years of binge drinking hoping to forget the pain the name brought into her life. Now it was back, in the shape of a magazine that stared at her from the crowded pages, taunting her. 

She didn’t notice the flat beer that was served to her until she heard a loud grunt, interrupting her thoughts. Emma looked up to see Scott, the young barista who stood behind the table, wiping a glass. 

“Mind tellin’ what’s up in that pretty head of yours, kid?” said Scott over the 90s pop music that filled the Crow Bar. 

Emma shoved the magazine in his direction. Resting her head on one hand, Emma reached for the beer with the other. Scott set the glass down on the table and picked it up to examine it. Cocking an eyebrow, Scott peered at her as she sipped her beer. 

“They’re tearing down my father’s apartment building,” she explained. 

He let out a low whistle. “Isn’t that the cheap one dedicated to students?” he said, giving it back to her.

“Same one.” 

“Don’t they know how much students need it?” 

“They want to turn it into an office,” she said. 

“Idiots.” 

The two stood in silence, listening to the music. Another customer came up asking for a refill. Once served, Scott turned to her. 

“So what are you gonna do?” 

“I don’t know. My friend Alyson wants me to come back and reclaim what’s mine.” 

“But you don’t want that.” 

Emma sighed and rubbed her face. 

“The thing is, that would mean I’ll have to go back home.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked. 

Emma bit her lower lip. “Too many bad memories,” she said. “Besides, I have a life here. My roommate and I were going to rent an apartment. I hate to break up our plans.” 

Scott was about to reply when his boss Allen Crow came up to the bar. The man was lanky, and he carried an unpleasant look that seemed to be plastered to his thin face. 

“I thought I told you, Scott, less chatter more serving.”  

Scott’s face flushed. “Sorry sir.” 

 Allen then turned to her. “You may be a loyal patron, Jean-Abinaki, but no more distracting my servers!” 

Emma raised her hands in submission. “I was just leaving,” Emma said, grabbing her bag and magazine. 

Allen frowned. “Sure you were,” he said, laced with sarcasm. 

“In fact, you might not see me again.” 

A startled gasp from Scott caught her attention. She looked back at the barista. 

“So you’re going?” he said, with sadness behind his words.

Emma gave him a shrug. “Not for long, I hope.” 

Slipping her bag over her shoulders, Emma said her goodbyes to Scott, before stepping out of the bar and into the bustling city of Toronto. Throughout the four years she had been in this diverse city, she always felt like a person among ghosts. There was nothing homey about it, just over-the-top glamour to hide the lonely shell it was. Regardless, it was a nice escape from her small west coast city of Turtle Falls. Now, with the chance of returning home to the looming mountains, rocky beaches, dense forests, and vintage city architecture, Emma felt like her feet were stubbornly planted to the hot pavement of the concrete jungle. Did she really want to return to a place that was so tainted with painful memories? 

With a deep breath, Emma did what she did best in these situations: take one step at a time. 

Last Stereo

24-year-old Emma Rose Jean lay in bed, pressing her dog-bone-shaped pillow against her ears, trying to block out the irritating pop music that was blaring from the apartment down the hall. Grumbling, she rolled over and took a peek at the digital clock that glowed a neon green from its spot on the dresser.

2:45.

“Oh for the love of—” She clamped her mouth shut and sighed. “Sorry Lord,” she mumbled. Throwing off the covers, Emma jumped to her feet. She then left her room and stormed down the hallway towards the noise. At last, she arrived at the door and raised her fist to bang on the door.

The door opened slightly. “Password?” said a deep Russian voice.

“Niko, let me in.”

“Wrong Password.” 

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Come on Niko, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Wrong password.” 

Pulling at her brown hair, Emma sighed. “If you don’t open the door right now, I will call the police,” she hissed. Finally, the door opened wider, revealing the scrawny college student. Shoving him aside, she entered the apartment.

Inside, at least fifty-five people were in the room, dancing to “Poker Face.” Clenching her jaw, she snaked through the crowd to the back of the living room by the TV where the culprit Luka stood by a Sony speaker. His eyes lit up at her presence.

“Emma! So glad you could make it!” he said warmly. “Though I doubt that’s the right look for a party,” he said pointing at her messy bedhead and matching pizza PJs.

Fuming, Emma reached over and unplugged the stereo speaker from the wall and the pop music came to an abrupt stop. 

“I’ll be taking this.”

“Hey! That’s new!” Luka protested, grabbing her arm as she spun to leave.

“Let me go!” 

He held his grip and gave her a pleading look. “I’ll keep it low this time!” he pleaded.

“That’s the fattest lie I ever heard.”

“Come on Emma, must we keep doing this?”

“It is literally three in the morning, Luka!” She screamed at him.

“But the party just started!”

“I told you all week I needed my sleep for a flight that I have in four hours. You seriously couldn’t wait until I left?” 

The young Aussie stood firm. Groaning, Emma shook her head. She let out a sigh.

“You know, I really wonder why I even bother.” 

Giving him a glare, Emma finally broke from his grip and stormed out of the now quiet room.

Upon reaching her apartment, she locked the door behind her and entered her bedroom. She tossed Luka’s new speaker into a nearby box of other irritating party speakers before flopping onto her bed in exhaustion.

She stared at the popcorn ceiling. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying jerk anymore. In a couple of hours, she was out of this hellhole, and she couldn’t help but smile at the concept.