Kindle - A One Shot
Author : miss1nformation
Title : Kindle
Characters : Jo Calderone/Stefani Germanotta, Natali Gemanotta
Rating : M
Warnings/Spoilers: The name "Lady Gaga" may/may not be mentioned through out this entire series, but her true name Stefani (Gemanotta) will be used.
Summary : Kindle - to start (a fire); cause (a flame, blaze, etc.) to begin burning.
A journey through the decay of a fragile mind; a series of one-shots. This piece takes place both before and after “Burned.”
Word Count : 2,414
Author's Notes: This story is set in 2006. Stefani is 20, Natali is 14, and Jo is 21(ish).
This particular piece was written entirely in Notepad on my iPhone.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to the amazing buttonsmagoo for the incredible inspiration, and to the super talented Hookers iyeshana and meagan4dominic for their keen attention to details and unwavering dedication!
Other works in this series:
The place looked like a crime scene. Books, cd's and vinyl records were strewn across the floor, peppered with ripped pieces of staff paper. Jagged shards of glass and bone china twinkled in the broken rays of sunshine that filtered through the shredded curtains. Everything was in disarray. Her sister gasped when she saw the dotted crimson trail between the living room and kitchen.
"Oh my God, Stef...what happened?" Natali looked inquiringly at her sister, her face a mixture of horror and revulsion.
"He went crazy," she said simply. Natali awaited further explanation, but none came.
As they walked deeper into the apartment Stefani had shared with Jo, she realized that her sister was lucky to have escaped this scene unscathed. She felt something give way under her foot before she heard the sound of the glass and metal picture frame twisting beneath her shoe. The smiling faces of their parents stared up at her from the wreckage, a serrated tear dividing them.
"And you said he didn't hit you? You're not lying to me, are you?" Her voice broke as the last few words escaped her lips. She was doing her best to hold back tears of anguish.
"No, he didn't hit me." Natali shot her sister a skeptic glance. Her voice devoid of any emotion she replied "Natali, I would never lie about that." They both looked down at the dried blood on the carpet. "That's his blood."
"What happened?" She tried again to get the story out of her sister.
"I really don't know. He just snapped." She looked thoughtfully at her hands, as though they held the secret to the meaning behind this nightmare.
***
It was a wet, gray Saturday morning in New York City. The rain beat a steady rhythm against the windows of the apartment they shared on the Lower East Side. She was sitting at her keyboard, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and a pencil hanging precariously from her lips. Her studio headphones isolated her from the world outside of the notes she played. He sat in a chair facing her, one leg folded beneath him, the other in front of him, reading a book.
Every once in a while he would glance up from his page to watch her. It was odd to see her look so rigid, yet so relaxed; the perfect oxymoron. Sometimes he would stare too long and she would turn towards him, her bangs in her eyes, the pencil between her lips still threatening to fall at any moment. She would smile broadly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.
Later that day they had plans to meet at her parents' house for a late lunch, but for now, they were mostly enjoying being lost in their own little worlds.
They were a tumultuous couple at best. They hardly bickered anymore - or at least not as much as they used to. But things had been going really well for them lately. He was getting more hours at work, and was even in line for a promotion. She was getting more time on the stage in several clubs, and had started to get a small but loyal following.
When the phone rang, only Jo heard it. The caller ID told him it was his employer calling. He sighed heavily. He knew what awaited him on the other end of the receiver. He answered anyways.
"Hey Jo, this is Rick. I hate to ask man, but Alejandro has called in again and I really need someone to come in. I know you've worked the last three Saturdays, but I would really appreciate it if you'd come in; at least for a few hours."
When Stefani looked over her shoulder and saw the look on Jo's face she mouthed 'What's wrong?' Putting his hand over the receiver he told her that his boss wanted him to come in. Her face contorted with a flurry of emotion, but finally settled on anger.
"No, no, no. Not again Jo. We've already had to cancel on my parents three times. I will not cancel on them again!" she said, the pitch of her voice steadily increasing.
With an audible groan, he uncovered the mouth piece and told Rick he would not be able to come in. He regretted it the moment the words were said, but it was too late. He could only appease one person in this debate, and he chose the one who held both his heart and his balls in her hands.
"Thank you baby," she said after he'd sat the receiver back on its cradle.
Without a word he turned from her and walked towards the bedroom. She followed closely behind. Grabbing his shoulder, she forced him to turn and face her.
"What?" he demanded.
"What the hell is your problem Jo?"
"What's my problem? What's my problem? Some fucking lunch date may have just ruined my chances at a huge promotion! That's my 'problem'," he added, using air quotes for extra emphasis.
"But Jo," she said in a tiny voice, "It's not just some fucking lunch date. These are my parents, and they mean the world to me. Just like you do." She looked down at her bare feet on the carpet.
He sighed again, his frustration lessening a little as be exhaled. He gently lifted her chin until their eyes met.
"I'm sorry babe. I've just been under a lot of stress at work lately. And this promotion is really important to me." He paused thoughtfully. "But you mean more to me than a million promotions." he hugged her tightly and kissed the tip if her nose.
They settled back into their respective seats and tried to pick up where they'd left off before the phone had rang. Neither were successful at staying focused. Jo found himself reading the same paragraph over and over without a word of it sinking in, and Stefani kept hitting the wrong notes. Most times she found she could work around this, and quite a few times the 'wrong notes' ended up sounding as good, if not better than the right ones. But that was not the case this morning. Each wrong note sounded sour and it was driving her crazy. In her agitation she broke her pencil in half.
She took off her headphones so quickly that she pulled out a few strands of hair. "Dammit," she cursed under her breath, rubbing the tender spot on her head. Jo frowned and sat his book down.
"Babe, are you ok?" he asked, crossing the room and laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, just frustrated." She sighed, laying her hand over his. "This new song isn't working. I have the chorus down, but I can't find the melody."
"Let me hear what you've got so far. Maybe I can help." He smiled down at her as she turned back to the keyboard, unplugged her headphones and placed her fingers on the weighted white keys. She played the first measure, the lyrics almost lost under the sound coming from the speakers.
"Your love is nothing I can't fight. Can't sleep with a man who dims my shine. I'm in the bedroom, with tissues and when, I know you're outside banging, then I won't let you in. 'Cause it's a hard life, with love in the world. And I'm a hard girl, loving me is like chewing on pearls." The octave and intensity of her voice grew stronger as the chorus built. She sang with a passion and fire he had not heard in her before.
He was no musician, but the more he listened, the more he realized there was a bigger problem with the song than she let on. He felt a surge of heat flash through his body when he took in the meaning behind her words. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions, so he did not say the first thing that came to mind. Instead, he asked what the song was about.
"It's about making the wrong choices in relationships and surrounding yourself with people who are no good for you." she shrugged her shoulders.
He was scowling at her now, and her expression told him that he was definitely one of the men she was singing about.
"So, you think I'm no good for you? Do you think I hold you back?" He was breathing heavily now, his fists clenched. "I probably just ruined my chances for this promotion for you, and now you accuse me of stealing your fucking shine?" His hands flailed wildly in the air, as if his rising tone weren't enough to convey his growing anger.
"Every day Stefani, every day I'm busting my balls at work to help keep us going because you keep playing all of these free gigs. Which I attend! Knowing damned good and well that we won't get out of there until after two in the fucking morning. So I get, maybe two and a half hours sleep before I have to be at work. But I don't complain, because you're living the dream!" He emphasized 'dream' with air quotes.
"Now wait just a fucking minute! I don't make you do anything! In case you've forgotten, I was surviving just fine before you came along. And, for the record, this song is not directed at any specific person, but the way you're acting, it could certainly be dedicated to you, you fucking asshole!"
She felt ashamed of herself the instant those hateful words had passed her lips, but there was no way to take them back. She wrung her hands together, her eyes cast downward to the floor, and braced herself. She didn't quite know what to expect, but she knew it would be vicious when it came to fruition.
Instead of blowing up, Jo silently walked to the bedroom and quietly shut the door. A single tear tracked down her cheek. She stubbornly wiped it away. After taking a few minutes to compose herself she crossed the living room towards the closed door. She knocked softly. There was no answer. She knocked louder, finally banging her fist against the thick wooden barrier, but there was still no response, and she could not hear anything on the other side of the door.
"Jo?" she called in a diminutive whisper. She knew he was a cutter, but it had been months since his last incident. Regardless, fear still overwhelmed her and she rushed through the door. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, a white cloth stained black with dried blood wrapped around his forearm. The overhead light gleamed hatefully against the dirty razor blade that fell from his fingers and landed silently on the carpet. She stood mute for what felt like an eternity, just staring at him, her jaw slack. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her weight.
"Jo? Baby?" she said in a trembling voice.
Silence. The silence was so loud she felt she would drown in it if it didn't end soon.
"Please say something Jo," she pleaded, her voice breaking from the dryness in her throat.
"What do you want me to say?" his voice as hoarse as her own. "Do you want me to lie? To tell you I feel fine? Ok. I feel fine baby." His voice was flat, with no hint of emotion. He looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. Running his fingers through his hair he stood up and walked past her towards the bathroom. Just before he walked out, his back still to her, he told her it was time to get ready.
"We can't go now, not after this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No, we're going. After all of this," he said, spreading his arms out in a dramatic display, "we're going."
Once again she found herself standing alone, overflowing with anger, fear and frustration. After a mental slap to the face for re-composure she went to find Jo in the bathroom. He grunted as he tried to remove the blood soaked cloth from his arm, but it was sticking to his skin. Stopping beside him in the cramped space she turned on the hot water and let it run a few moments until it was warm. She got out a wash cloth, peroxide, cotton balls and some large patch bandages. Without a word between them she soaked the wash cloth in warm water and began to dab it against the immovable fabric clinging to his arm. Once the material was wet it released its hold. She dropped the now red cloth onto the sink with a sickening 'plop,' and ran her hands under the faucet. Removing the cloth had caused the thin cuts to bleed again. Tiny beads of crimson dotted his arm. She rinsed the wash cloth and ran it over the glistening claret. He didn't make a sound until the peroxide seared his open flesh, drawing in a deep breath through clenched teeth. When he began to writhe beneath her she tried her best to comfort him, assuring him she was almost finished. After rubbing antibacterial ointment across the cuts she applied the large patch bandages.
"I'm sorry," he said, taking her hands into his own. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, embracing her as hard as he could without hurting his throbbing arm. They stood in each other's arms for several minutes, the combined copper and antiseptic smells burning their nostrils.
"How does your arm feel?"
"It's throbbing, but it'll go away soon. I'm sorry I've been such an asshole today. I honestly don't know how you put up with me sometimes."
"It's a full time job," she said, winking playfully.
"I need a smoke. Care to join me?"
"No, I'm gonna go ahead and get dressed."
He pressed his lips gently to hers and left for the fire escape. She looked around the room, dimly lit by the light from the living room, and saw the red stained cloths on the counter. Not wanting the blood to set in she turned on the cold water and plugged the drain. She submerged both pieces and wrung them out, her hands dripping watery blood. After a few minutes of pointless scrubbing she gave up. The once snow white fabric of both pieces were forever tarnished in his shed blood.
Title : Kindle
Characters : Jo Calderone/Stefani Germanotta, Natali Gemanotta
Rating : M
Warnings/Spoilers: The name "Lady Gaga" may/may not be mentioned through out this entire series, but her true name Stefani (Gemanotta) will be used.
Summary : Kindle - to start (a fire); cause (a flame, blaze, etc.) to begin burning.
A journey through the decay of a fragile mind; a series of one-shots. This piece takes place both before and after “Burned.”
Word Count : 2,414
Author's Notes: This story is set in 2006. Stefani is 20, Natali is 14, and Jo is 21(ish).
This particular piece was written entirely in Notepad on my iPhone.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to the amazing buttonsmagoo for the incredible inspiration, and to the super talented Hookers iyeshana and meagan4dominic for their keen attention to details and unwavering dedication!
Other works in this series:
The place looked like a crime scene. Books, cd's and vinyl records were strewn across the floor, peppered with ripped pieces of staff paper. Jagged shards of glass and bone china twinkled in the broken rays of sunshine that filtered through the shredded curtains. Everything was in disarray. Her sister gasped when she saw the dotted crimson trail between the living room and kitchen.
"Oh my God, Stef...what happened?" Natali looked inquiringly at her sister, her face a mixture of horror and revulsion.
"He went crazy," she said simply. Natali awaited further explanation, but none came.
As they walked deeper into the apartment Stefani had shared with Jo, she realized that her sister was lucky to have escaped this scene unscathed. She felt something give way under her foot before she heard the sound of the glass and metal picture frame twisting beneath her shoe. The smiling faces of their parents stared up at her from the wreckage, a serrated tear dividing them.
"And you said he didn't hit you? You're not lying to me, are you?" Her voice broke as the last few words escaped her lips. She was doing her best to hold back tears of anguish.
"No, he didn't hit me." Natali shot her sister a skeptic glance. Her voice devoid of any emotion she replied "Natali, I would never lie about that." They both looked down at the dried blood on the carpet. "That's his blood."
"What happened?" She tried again to get the story out of her sister.
"I really don't know. He just snapped." She looked thoughtfully at her hands, as though they held the secret to the meaning behind this nightmare.
***
It was a wet, gray Saturday morning in New York City. The rain beat a steady rhythm against the windows of the apartment they shared on the Lower East Side. She was sitting at her keyboard, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and a pencil hanging precariously from her lips. Her studio headphones isolated her from the world outside of the notes she played. He sat in a chair facing her, one leg folded beneath him, the other in front of him, reading a book.
Every once in a while he would glance up from his page to watch her. It was odd to see her look so rigid, yet so relaxed; the perfect oxymoron. Sometimes he would stare too long and she would turn towards him, her bangs in her eyes, the pencil between her lips still threatening to fall at any moment. She would smile broadly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.
Later that day they had plans to meet at her parents' house for a late lunch, but for now, they were mostly enjoying being lost in their own little worlds.
They were a tumultuous couple at best. They hardly bickered anymore - or at least not as much as they used to. But things had been going really well for them lately. He was getting more hours at work, and was even in line for a promotion. She was getting more time on the stage in several clubs, and had started to get a small but loyal following.
When the phone rang, only Jo heard it. The caller ID told him it was his employer calling. He sighed heavily. He knew what awaited him on the other end of the receiver. He answered anyways.
"Hey Jo, this is Rick. I hate to ask man, but Alejandro has called in again and I really need someone to come in. I know you've worked the last three Saturdays, but I would really appreciate it if you'd come in; at least for a few hours."
When Stefani looked over her shoulder and saw the look on Jo's face she mouthed 'What's wrong?' Putting his hand over the receiver he told her that his boss wanted him to come in. Her face contorted with a flurry of emotion, but finally settled on anger.
"No, no, no. Not again Jo. We've already had to cancel on my parents three times. I will not cancel on them again!" she said, the pitch of her voice steadily increasing.
With an audible groan, he uncovered the mouth piece and told Rick he would not be able to come in. He regretted it the moment the words were said, but it was too late. He could only appease one person in this debate, and he chose the one who held both his heart and his balls in her hands.
"Thank you baby," she said after he'd sat the receiver back on its cradle.
Without a word he turned from her and walked towards the bedroom. She followed closely behind. Grabbing his shoulder, she forced him to turn and face her.
"What?" he demanded.
"What the hell is your problem Jo?"
"What's my problem? What's my problem? Some fucking lunch date may have just ruined my chances at a huge promotion! That's my 'problem'," he added, using air quotes for extra emphasis.
"But Jo," she said in a tiny voice, "It's not just some fucking lunch date. These are my parents, and they mean the world to me. Just like you do." She looked down at her bare feet on the carpet.
He sighed again, his frustration lessening a little as be exhaled. He gently lifted her chin until their eyes met.
"I'm sorry babe. I've just been under a lot of stress at work lately. And this promotion is really important to me." He paused thoughtfully. "But you mean more to me than a million promotions." he hugged her tightly and kissed the tip if her nose.
They settled back into their respective seats and tried to pick up where they'd left off before the phone had rang. Neither were successful at staying focused. Jo found himself reading the same paragraph over and over without a word of it sinking in, and Stefani kept hitting the wrong notes. Most times she found she could work around this, and quite a few times the 'wrong notes' ended up sounding as good, if not better than the right ones. But that was not the case this morning. Each wrong note sounded sour and it was driving her crazy. In her agitation she broke her pencil in half.
She took off her headphones so quickly that she pulled out a few strands of hair. "Dammit," she cursed under her breath, rubbing the tender spot on her head. Jo frowned and sat his book down.
"Babe, are you ok?" he asked, crossing the room and laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, just frustrated." She sighed, laying her hand over his. "This new song isn't working. I have the chorus down, but I can't find the melody."
"Let me hear what you've got so far. Maybe I can help." He smiled down at her as she turned back to the keyboard, unplugged her headphones and placed her fingers on the weighted white keys. She played the first measure, the lyrics almost lost under the sound coming from the speakers.
"Your love is nothing I can't fight. Can't sleep with a man who dims my shine. I'm in the bedroom, with tissues and when, I know you're outside banging, then I won't let you in. 'Cause it's a hard life, with love in the world. And I'm a hard girl, loving me is like chewing on pearls." The octave and intensity of her voice grew stronger as the chorus built. She sang with a passion and fire he had not heard in her before.
He was no musician, but the more he listened, the more he realized there was a bigger problem with the song than she let on. He felt a surge of heat flash through his body when he took in the meaning behind her words. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions, so he did not say the first thing that came to mind. Instead, he asked what the song was about.
"It's about making the wrong choices in relationships and surrounding yourself with people who are no good for you." she shrugged her shoulders.
He was scowling at her now, and her expression told him that he was definitely one of the men she was singing about.
"So, you think I'm no good for you? Do you think I hold you back?" He was breathing heavily now, his fists clenched. "I probably just ruined my chances for this promotion for you, and now you accuse me of stealing your fucking shine?" His hands flailed wildly in the air, as if his rising tone weren't enough to convey his growing anger.
"Every day Stefani, every day I'm busting my balls at work to help keep us going because you keep playing all of these free gigs. Which I attend! Knowing damned good and well that we won't get out of there until after two in the fucking morning. So I get, maybe two and a half hours sleep before I have to be at work. But I don't complain, because you're living the dream!" He emphasized 'dream' with air quotes.
"Now wait just a fucking minute! I don't make you do anything! In case you've forgotten, I was surviving just fine before you came along. And, for the record, this song is not directed at any specific person, but the way you're acting, it could certainly be dedicated to you, you fucking asshole!"
She felt ashamed of herself the instant those hateful words had passed her lips, but there was no way to take them back. She wrung her hands together, her eyes cast downward to the floor, and braced herself. She didn't quite know what to expect, but she knew it would be vicious when it came to fruition.
Instead of blowing up, Jo silently walked to the bedroom and quietly shut the door. A single tear tracked down her cheek. She stubbornly wiped it away. After taking a few minutes to compose herself she crossed the living room towards the closed door. She knocked softly. There was no answer. She knocked louder, finally banging her fist against the thick wooden barrier, but there was still no response, and she could not hear anything on the other side of the door.
"Jo?" she called in a diminutive whisper. She knew he was a cutter, but it had been months since his last incident. Regardless, fear still overwhelmed her and she rushed through the door. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, a white cloth stained black with dried blood wrapped around his forearm. The overhead light gleamed hatefully against the dirty razor blade that fell from his fingers and landed silently on the carpet. She stood mute for what felt like an eternity, just staring at him, her jaw slack. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her weight.
"Jo? Baby?" she said in a trembling voice.
Silence. The silence was so loud she felt she would drown in it if it didn't end soon.
"Please say something Jo," she pleaded, her voice breaking from the dryness in her throat.
"What do you want me to say?" his voice as hoarse as her own. "Do you want me to lie? To tell you I feel fine? Ok. I feel fine baby." His voice was flat, with no hint of emotion. He looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. Running his fingers through his hair he stood up and walked past her towards the bathroom. Just before he walked out, his back still to her, he told her it was time to get ready.
"We can't go now, not after this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No, we're going. After all of this," he said, spreading his arms out in a dramatic display, "we're going."
Once again she found herself standing alone, overflowing with anger, fear and frustration. After a mental slap to the face for re-composure she went to find Jo in the bathroom. He grunted as he tried to remove the blood soaked cloth from his arm, but it was sticking to his skin. Stopping beside him in the cramped space she turned on the hot water and let it run a few moments until it was warm. She got out a wash cloth, peroxide, cotton balls and some large patch bandages. Without a word between them she soaked the wash cloth in warm water and began to dab it against the immovable fabric clinging to his arm. Once the material was wet it released its hold. She dropped the now red cloth onto the sink with a sickening 'plop,' and ran her hands under the faucet. Removing the cloth had caused the thin cuts to bleed again. Tiny beads of crimson dotted his arm. She rinsed the wash cloth and ran it over the glistening claret. He didn't make a sound until the peroxide seared his open flesh, drawing in a deep breath through clenched teeth. When he began to writhe beneath her she tried her best to comfort him, assuring him she was almost finished. After rubbing antibacterial ointment across the cuts she applied the large patch bandages.
"I'm sorry," he said, taking her hands into his own. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, embracing her as hard as he could without hurting his throbbing arm. They stood in each other's arms for several minutes, the combined copper and antiseptic smells burning their nostrils.
"How does your arm feel?"
"It's throbbing, but it'll go away soon. I'm sorry I've been such an asshole today. I honestly don't know how you put up with me sometimes."
"It's a full time job," she said, winking playfully.
"I need a smoke. Care to join me?"
"No, I'm gonna go ahead and get dressed."
He pressed his lips gently to hers and left for the fire escape. She looked around the room, dimly lit by the light from the living room, and saw the red stained cloths on the counter. Not wanting the blood to set in she turned on the cold water and plugged the drain. She submerged both pieces and wrung them out, her hands dripping watery blood. After a few minutes of pointless scrubbing she gave up. The once snow white fabric of both pieces were forever tarnished in his shed blood.