Bucket of dreams

Why do we dream? Why create aspirations and have hopes? As Josie sat staring out of the window, she felt sick. Thrown against the wall her hopes had been smashed to smithereens. Crushed after her excitement of hearing the thud from the letterbox.

As a child she wrote down her dreams. All her thoughts of being a star. Keeping them in a pink and white bucket, with pretty flowers. Her bucket of dreams. She had always known what she wanted to be. At school she often looked out of the window, wasting away the hours knowing that she was destined for greater things. She didn’t need  Pythagoras and his Soh Cah Toa.  She didn’t need to know about the Romans. Focusing on her music was her goal in life, that’s where she was headed. One day she knew that she would stand to applause in London’s Royal Albert Hall. Rock Star Josie was her future. Why had everything gone wrong?

Singing

Every Friday she sang at the ‘Dog and Bear’. The regulars loved her, some even came in just to hear her sing.

Thinking of her bucket of dreams she had added the love of her life. More the worst mistake of her life. Black hair down to his back side, matted into dreadlocks, she had always thought him sexy. Living the rock and roll life style, Steve was always surrounded by his groupies.

Two months ago, Josie had arrived home, sick of the sight of espresso and cappuccino and desperate for her rock career to take off. Working in a cafe had never been in her bucket. Now with her head thudding and straining to keep her eyes open, she walked into her flat. Throwing her coat on the settee, she shouted for Steve. Hoping he was there to take her into his arms and tell her it will all be okay.

The brunette

As the brunette appeared, in just her blouse with buttons half undone and scanty knickers, she knew what was going on. Her head now felt like it was on fire as the anger burned up in her.
“Steve, who the hell is this?”
“He won’t hear you love, he’s asleep.”
“Asleep, it’s only six o’clock.”
“It’s the smokes, whisky, and love. He’ll be out for a while, she slurred.”

She could feel the rage,
“Get out of my flat, go,” she shouted.
The brunette disappeared back into the bedroom and then returned with a pile of clothes. Silently she lit a cigarette and walked out.

Josie watched her, who was she? What was going on? Other than the obvious.
Walking into the bedroom, she shook Steve.
“Wake up.”
“Christine, stop.”
“I’m Josie, and I want you gone, now.”
“Let me sleep.”
“No one cheats on me and gets to stay, you need to go.”
“But Josie.”
“Go.” She shouted now, why had she trusted him for so long? How many others had he been with? “I’m going out and I want you gone when I come back”
“But Josie.”

Ignoring him she grabbed her coat, she couldn’t bear to be around him and now walked out.

The letter

Two months later, she sat staring at the letter. Was this Steve’s fault? No couldn’t be, he was the star. Picking up her tablet she typed, ‘Rockhead Steve’. Top of Google there was the scandal.
‘Girlfriend ruins rock stars career’
Scratching her head, Josie could feel the fire burning again in her tummy.

What had she done? Other then ask the cheating rocker to leave.

Josie read, ‘In a whisky soaked haze, Rockhead Steve, is no longer performing. Jealous lover, Josie should have thought of him before making her ridiculous accusations.’
A reviewer had written ‘Josie must be on drugs’.

Hearing a bang on her door, Josie jumped, what now?
Before she had chance to get up and open it, her sister, Bernie and agent Lewis walked in.

“This is bad Josie.” Lewis threw today’s newspaper at her. Emblazoned across the front page, there was her photo.

‘Waitress Josie, who had been heading for stardom’.

Picking up her letter, she passed it to Lewis. Feeling her eyes starting too sting, she knew tears were to follow. Bernie now sat next to her and put her arms around her. Feeling her sisters warm embrace, she said,
“What about my bucket? all my dreams, I was going to bring down the Royal Albert Hall. Now that cheating rat has ruined everything.”

A visitor

“Josie, we need to find that woman, any idea who she was?”
“Lewis, she was just some scank.”

Lewis waved the letter, “Scank, or not, this recording company aren’t going to accept you on their label with Steve’s fallen career pitched at your door.”
“Jose, we need to find her. Come on what did she look like?”
“Brunette and a scank, I don’t know.”

They all jumped as the door knocker banged again.
“I’ll go.” Lewis said.

Josie stayed cuddled up to Bernice, her career was in tatters and she now started shaking.
“Someone to see you, errr, her name is Christine and she’s brunette.”

As Christine walked in, Josie was not sure whether to be happy or slap her.

A plan

“Sorry, I have seen today’s paper, you need to know some things. I’m going too help you sort this. It looks bad now, but I can help you.”
Stunned that she had the nerve to come, Josie was not sure what to say.

Helping herself to the arm chair, she started talking confidently.
“I’ve followed Steve for years and when he appeared in my bar, I thought all my Christmas’ had come at once.”
“So, you chose to sleep with him?” Lewis asked.

“He’s ‘Rockhead Steve’ who wouldn’t?”
Josie was shocked, okay she was right, she’s a scank.
“Point is, if I go to the papers and explain what happened it will make you the shunned girlfriend. Surely anyone that’s been cheated on will be on your side.”
“Steve, is a big name, why take Josie’s side? In their mind it’s her fault he’s having his breakdown.”
Getting up she looked at Lewis and said,
“We will see about that.” Pushing herself out of the chair she now said goodbye and let herself out.

“Tea anyone?” They were shocked at what had just happened and grateful for Bernice’s offer.

A couple of days later a new report appeared in the paper. ‘The innocent girlfriend and the lover’. The whisky consumed before the breakup, even talk of drugs. None of this was Josie’s fault.

Josie looked at her bucket of dreams and pulled ‘find a good man’ out. She didn’t need a man, Steve had nearly wrecked her career.

Another letter

Two weeks later, there was another thud on the door mat. Opening the letter her heart was thumping. As she read, she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, this was it.

‘Dear Josie,
Firstly, sorry for our recent misunderstanding, please accept our sincere apologies.

We have listened to your work and would really like you to meet with us at our studios.’

The letter went on, but that was all she needed to read for now. Looking at her bucket of dreams she said happily,
“Next stop, the Royal Albert Hall”.

Written for BlogBattle – bucket

Note: The bucket in the featured image was purchased as a Flower pot.   My six year old now stores toys in it in her bedroom.

(Please note, anything purchased, will earn me commission at no extra cost to you, which will help to pay for this blog.)

Here are more of my set.  Others are in my garden.  They are attractive buckets / waste bins as well as flower pots.

For more see, An innocent baby and a good mum – written for BlogBattle – Innocent