Masterful Plans

Caitlyn Weirzbicki

Every single day, Matilda eats three pennies. Each placed evenly and perfectly balanced, on heads. Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, they’re all the same to her. At the end of every week she goes through the tall turquoise jar that teems over her dining room table. It must be exactly twenty-one cents less. A decrease in money, a decrease in life.

Every single Monday, Gerard eats five ladybugs. He knows it is weird, and perhaps a bit hideous to do such a thing, but he takes delight in such a delicate pleasantry. Living alone, secluded in a corner apartment, single and ruthlessly desperate, with his own small part of the roof where he has masterfully created a garden, Gerard believes that perhaps if he were to do such a thing as ingest five petite ladybugs, he will find good luck. Good luck from somewhere, a Greek God, God himself, or maybe just plain darn fall in love by accident.

Every single Tuesday, Rony decides to bike back and forth to his mother’s house, and his father’s house. He does this exactly ten times. The compulsion to do so arrives at exactly 5:05 p.m. on each and every Tuesday of each and every year. You see, without his parents being together, he finds it hard to spend an equal amount of time with them. Now that he’s an adult alone in such a large city, he bikes to and from each parent back and forth. Trading hours, minutes, equally distributing his soul to the people that love him most in this world.

Every single Wednesday, Barbara calls her dead husband eight times, and then of course, she hangs up. She picks up the phone at the exact time he died, on the exact day of the week that he died, and she holds it to her ear, as you would do to a banana. Skillfully, she waits twenty seconds and at the beep, without words at the ready, silently puts the phone down, the phone cord swinging slowly, a haunting. Yet, she never knows what to say. She does this eight times, eight was his favorite number.

Every single Thursday, Daisy decides to lay in bed for exactly twenty-two hours, looking at the wall and wondering what exactly she has done with her life. And yes, each week she requests work on Thursday. Every single person in her family understands and is aware that she will not be reachable on that particular day of the week. Because what did she do with this ordinary life but fail?

Every single Friday, Gabby looks in the mirror twelve times to make sure she looks sparklingly perfect. Everyone needs to be aware of Gabby, to provide her with the attention she so salivatingly craves. Each time she asks herself the same questions, a mixtape on repeat; anything in teeth? Are teeth white enough? No one will notice me? Is this dress ugly on me, its bulging at all the wrong places? And this lasts for approximately one hour each Friday.

Everyone is supposed to love Fridays. She doesn’t have the energy, the ability to function and maintain a personality everyday.Every Saturday and Sunday, the weekend that’s intended for silliness and pleasure, Sam complains exactly two hundred times. One hundred each day. He complains about the weather. His mother’s home cooking. The wifi and its increasing decline within his household.

His mother’s breathing while she eats her home cooking. The state of the world. His mother’s easy conversation with the neighbor after she knocks on the door during dinner, informing his mother of such-and-such. He only allows himself to have the weekend off of gating his feelings, his complaints and opinions that stick to him like putty. On weekends, Sam removes his filter and chooses to be negative for the day. Where’s the appreciation?

Every single day, of every single week, Kelly holds a meeting for these specific seven souls. She tries to catch them on the day their compulsion is at its peak, but never succeeds. She sees Matilda swallow her pennies as she boards the school bus. Watches through the windows of Gerard’s miniscule apartment as he eats five ladybugs. Catches Rony on his bike route. Attempts to call Barbara at the time her husband died. Blows up Daisy’s phone as Daisy lay in her bed, the world nothing to her. Compliments Gabby as she walks past, trying to spark conversation. Emails Sam about the meeting time, date, and location, yet never receives an answer.

Kelly tries really hard to help people as she spoons ketchup into her mouth. The mustard next. Mayonnaise on deck. It seems as if they don’t want to be helped.