American Dirt: Reload
It all began as a soft light, then an aching head, followed by a slow realization that there was a familiar bed underneath them. The window near their bed was open and a gentle breeze kept the curtains wafting. Their belongings were organized neatly and all in their places - exactly as they last remembered them
( Read more... )
Waking up with a headache was unpleasant, but not unusual. No, the first thing she thought of - when she was awake enough to think - was that perhaps she hadn't had enough coffee the day before, and her brain was punishing her with a caffeine headache accordingly. So without even a glance at the window, the girl rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen to switch on the coffee pot and make a cup of life.
She drank two cups right there in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and staring at nothing, before she felt conscious enough to dare a shower and not risk drowning. Another cup of coffee after that and she set herself on the couch to start the day's journal.
Morgan opened her notebook. And stopped. And stared.
Years of long habit had her dating the next day's entry before going to bed at night, as a reminder to finish up the current day's entry and to help her keep track of time (it wasn't always easy when you lived in your jeep). So to see the title of Friday, March 13th in her spiderish blue pen was... bizarre. Wasn't it September? Was she half asleep when she wrote down that date?
She flipped back a few pages to the start of the last entry. Thursday, September 4th.
... well, she got the Friday right anyway. But how the hell had she screwed up the day and the month so badly?
That was when Morgan realized her windows were open, and that the sweet balmy breeze of springtime was what warmed her, not the central heat and air. A glance out the window confirmed that, while their branches were still bare, the dogwoods were beginning to flower - something that she knew well enough only happened in spring.
What the hell happened to winter?!
Morgan flew outside and down the steps, so flustered she'd completely forgotten that all she wore was a pair of sweatpants and a camisole. Maybe, some part of her thought, if she went outside herself she'd find herself stepping barefoot into the snow, and would wake up from the crazy dream she'd found herself sleepwalking in. She'd thought she'd gotten over the craziness of Truth or Consequences, had found a way to live here that made sure she encountered that craziness as little as possible, but a complete skip forward in time she couldn't remember? That hadn't even been recorded in her journal? What had happened?
The note on the reader board caught her eye as she pass, bringing her to a skidding halt. It was the only thing on the board, a bright yellow sticky square taped up with only the initials LB as a signature.
She took it down off the board and held it in both hands, head down as she padded across the entryway and slowly out the door. Down here on the step, the outside looked much the same as it had from her window. Only there was a new girl on the railing, looking as disgruntled as Morgan felt unnerved.
Where had the time gone?
Reply
When Morgan, the mute girl, finally came outside, Ava watched her with her periphery vision and then perked up as she came closer.
"Do you have a gap in your memory, too?"
Ava stayed on the railing and held Morgan's gaze, well aware that she would have to ask questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head.
Reply
But this girl was asking the very thing Morgan was asking herself - was there a gap in her memory? The girl asked it as if she, too, had a similar gap; a wave of frustration rolled over her as she realized she couldn't ask any questions in return. Couldn't ask if her last memory was of September, if she didn't remember winter either. Morgan hadn't thought to bring her little scratchpad down with her, and so down here she had no voice to ask questions with.
Ultimately, though, she gave a slow nod of her head, frustration and confusion mingled equally in her expression. Wordlessly, she offered the sticky note she'd found on the community announcement board.
Reply
Taking the note, Ava frowned. "If I didn't know better, I'd bite them the next time I got the chance." Sighing, she returned her gaze to Morgan. "Ava, if you didn't know," she nodded in an attempt to gesture at herself. "Can't say I know your name, but I also can't expect you to say it either."
Apparently she was more agitated than she thought. She never rambled like this. "Should we go get your notepad so you can join the conversation?"
At least her rambling could be cut off and directed then. She hated rambling.
Reply
Damn, trying to make sense of this whole confusing thing was making her head hurt.
Reply
"I know you're confused, but I can only explain things if you can communicate, too. The notepad, then?"
Reply
In the end she gave in. After all, there was no saying this Ava didn't already know which apartment was hers, and anyway getting back into her room would give her access to her pepper spray (which she'd thoughtlessly left behind). Ava didn't look like much, and Morgan was a lot stronger than her gaunt frame suggested. She could handle herself.
Sure she could.
Nostrils flaring, she took a deep breath and exhaled, counting to five, before turning and leading the way back up the stairs to her room. Ava would follow, or she wouldn't; it wasn't like she could tell the other woman to hurry up or anything.
Reply
After the long silence it was a blessing to follow the mute woman. Ava kept a steady pace and breathed in slowly at regular intervals. There were not many other residents active - how many were really gone? She pushed that worry aside as Morgan led the way into the apartment.
There was a myriad of new scents inside and Ava's nostrils wrinkled at the numerous amount of books. For a reason she couldn't place, it made her uneasy.
...why would books disturb her more than blood?
Reply
Leave a comment