And the next one is... Dinner plate, remnants of what looked like left over Chinese food. Wonderful. Into the soapy water it went. I had to work to get the dried up chow-mien unglued from the plate.
I cleaned and dried each plate, cup, spoon, fork, knife and pan that was on the counter and reached into the sudsy water, looking for the plate and red cup I had first set in the sink. I could feel little bits of food and noodles at the bottom, squishing under my fingers.
I have a pretty strong stomach but the thought of old food and feeling my fingers squish it made me gag a little. I felt around a little more and found the plate. This one was easy at least, there had only been crumbs on it. Must have been a sandwich or toast or something but I didn't remember eating those either. I dried it and placed it in its respective cabinet drawer nearest the refrigerator. Just the cup and then I could shower. I stuck my hand back into the soapy water with the little bits of food debris floating around in it. Sickening.
I touched the bottom of the sink again and felt around until my fingers settled on something small and hard. It was kind of jagged at one end.
What the hell is that?
I took my hand out of the water, soap running down my arm to my elbow, and held the thing up in front of my face.
A tooth.
I dropped it into the sink and reeled backwards, my stomach dropping.
...cheek bones extending outwards, my forehead broadening, grabbed my head, trying futilely to push my features back into place. Another tooth clinking onto the tile...
The dream blared into my mind, the memory of my forehead stretching and broadening... I could feel it.
I hurried back to the sink and fumbled for the drain plug but something brushed against my hand in the water.
Just ignore it, get the plug and get out...
It felt like hair.
Just grab the fucking plug and GET OUT.
There it was. I grabbed it and pulled. The suction made my arm jerk backwards as the plug came out, splashing soap in my eyes.
“Dammit!” I said out loud, throwing the plug at the counter, trying to wipe the soap out of my already burning eyes, before realizing that wiping soapy water into my eyes with my hand wouldn’t help. I felt around, blindly for the towel I had set on the counter.
Crumbs, crumbs, water, crumbs… Found it.
The drain made a gargling sound as the last of the water flowed down the pipes. I dried my hands on the towel, and they shook as I wiped my eyes free from dish soap.
I blinked. No… No, no no. Just because I felt it, doesn’t mean it’s real…
I blinked again but it was still there; a matted a clump of black hair slowly circling around the drain, stopping just before the edge. Little soap bubbles glistened off the tangled mess.
It’s not real, it’s not real...
I clenched my eyes shut, repeating the line to myself, hoping that when I opened them the hair would be gone.
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes back up. No clumps of hair to be found in the sink. I braced myself on the counter with my arms and let my head fall into them.
You're just tired. Take a shower and get some rest.
That thought sounded good. I needed sleep desperately.
Chapter 15
I am not easily understood. This I know. I have a hard time understanding myself sometimes. Most of the time. My thoughts constantly jump and jumble and interweave into one continuous mess of words. There are very few things that I am certain of. But being difficult to understand... That I am certain of. What am I trying to say? I don't know anymore.
The water coursed its way from the top of my head down to my feet. I could feel each exquisite droplet rolling down my body, slowly working their magic and pulling the aches from deep within my muscles. I exhaled and took in a deep breath.
This must be what breathing for the first time feels like.
Lung tissue swelling with oxygen, head clearing as each molecule saturated my lungs with sweet, sweet air. A temporary relief from infinite insanity.
Told ya you just needed a shower...
Something my head and I agreed on.
My eyes opened and I looked at the palms of my hands. I don't know why, but I just stared at them for a moment. I dropped them to my side and stood there with my head bowed under the water.
I want it to end.
I need sleep.
I need to get out of the shower.
I need it to end.
My day was already a blur in my memory. There wasn't one thing in particular that I could remember. I know I woke up early, left my house and now I'm here. I am here right?
Are you?
That wasn't reassuring.
I begrudgingly reached for the knob and turned the water off. I could feel the droplets on my body, rapidly cooling on my skin now that the steam was dissipating. I slid the glass shower door open and stepped out. The tile chilled my feet.
I dried myself and ran a brush through my hair. It was starting to get a little long. I needed a hair cut. I wiped the steam from the mirror and I looked again at my face. Nothing was different. No abnormally widened forehead, no bulbous nose or slanted cheek bones. I even opened my mouth and checked to make sure all my teeth were there. Not one was missing.
That was a little reassuring at least.
I exited the bathroom into my bedroom and it looked normal too, everything in its proper place. I went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and grabbed a plain white t-shirt. I looked at my bed and it called for me, pleaded for me to lie down, rest my head... Drift off to sleep. I promised it that I would soon, but I was starving.
I walked down the hall, through my living room and into my kitchen. The clock on the stove read 10:34 P.M. My stomach growled in agony, I needed to eat. I couldn't even remember if I had eaten at all the whole day. I opened the refrigerator, clutching my stomach with my right hand and peered inside. I hate it when there's a fridge full of food, but nothing to eat.
Off to the pantry next. Pancake mix, various canned foods, chips, some flour and pasta noodles. Hmm. Nothing too appetizing. I removed the flour from the front of the cupboard and set it on the counter along with the chips and a couple cans of soup or something, maybe there was something in the back. I looked at one of the labels on the cans. Cream of mushroom. I wrinkled my nose and sat it alongside of the chips. If that was what I had at the front, then my hopes weren’t high for what’s in the back, but I could be wrong.
Well look at that, squashed at the back was a bag of bread. I could make a sandwich at least. Bread behind the chips. Well, that shows just how often I make myself anything to eat. I sat it on the counter next to the chips and went back to the fridge.
There was some sliced turkey and cheese in the little drawer inside. I don’t know what that little drawer was called. Damn. I really should eat the food I have at home instead of grabbing fast food.
Meat, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard. Sandwich. That actually wasn't too bad. I thought it would take longer for some reason. I reached to the cupboard to get a plate. I grabbed one, but when I brought it down I knocked the bag of flour over, spilling it all across the floor. At least I would have an excuse to clean it. I don't think I had done that in awhile.
I bent down to pick the bag up and—
“You’re coming with me.”
A steely, ice-cold voice. Familiar... My voice.
He grabbed me with both hands by my head and yanked me up from the floor, forcing me to look him directly int he eyes. Nothing but blackness stared back at me. My kitchen began fading, my sink, refrigerator.... Blackness swallowed them up into snaking tendrils, the room shook and he squeezed my head harder. My vision quaked as everything else was enveloped in darkness. A darkness blacker than black.
And then there was....
Nothing....
Nothing existed….
It was just nothingness....
And cold....
Just....
Still....
Chapter 1
The diner was unusually crowded. People were chatting and the waiters and waitresses were bustling about, grabbing plates from one table, delivering appetizers to another. It was a long drive to such a mediocre place, but this is where he wanted to meet.
Charles Green sat across from me, lazily chewing on a piece of chicken-fried steak. How could he even eat that? Grease pooled underneath the meat on his plate, and more oozed out of it as he cut into it with his knife. He was relishing it though. Whatever suited him I suppose. I was at his mercy for him even agreeing to meet me in the first place.
I looked at my plate, a half-eaten cheeseburger and stale fries growing steadily colder. I didn't have much of an appetite. I took another sip of my water—probably tap water—and looked back at Charles. While he was clearly savoring his meal, he didn't seem to have the same affection towards me.
“Thanks for this,” I said, feeling more and more awkward the more he stared at me.
He nodded without saying a word cut another piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, not breaking his gaze, swallowed with a gulp and wiped his hands off on a napkin. I think that was the first time he took his eyes off me this whole time.
“I'm not doing this for you,” he started, stopping to finish the last bit of food in his mouth before continuing, “but I know you can take care of her and that she needs that right now.”
The words were reluctant to leave his lips, like they were desperately trying to stay inside in his mouth before being forcefully expelled, spitefully and ungracefully. I wasn't exactly thrilled about this turn of events either, but at least I hid it better than he did.
“So yes, I'll talk to her. I'll let you know what she says. We're done here.”
He wiped his mouth off with the napkin and left the table.
It was sunny outside but there was a slight breeze. Charles leaned against my car with his arms crossed. As goofy as he looked in those damn glasses, he still intimidated me. After I got in my car and unlocked his door, he got in, buckled himself and stared blankly out his window.
I started the car and backed out of the parking spot, unfortunately catching his eye when I turned to look behind me.
There wasn’t much traffic which was nice at least. Not only was the diner way out of the way, I had to pick him up and drop him off at his house.
I wanted to say something, anything, just to break the quiet but there was nothing more to say. Besides, I don't think my voice would have pierced the tension in the air.
We drove and drove and drove until he finally said, “It's over here on the right.”
I put on my blinker and turned into the parking lot. Some diner stood out in the center of the lot, a big pink neon sign jutted off the roof spelling out “Peggy's Diner.” Looked tacky in the day time, it was probably worse at night.
It hardly seemed worth the drive, but this is where he wanted to go. Fair enough.
We got out of the car, not saying a word to each other, and walked in. The diner was busy; patrons were talking, the waiters and waitresses were hurrying from table to table, taking orders, refilling drinks, and busting tables so the next group could be seated.
We were sat at the back of the diner near a big window. The sun shone through and hurt my eyes a little. He sat on the other side of me, granting him some shade from the glare of the sun, but I didn't complain. I was at his mercy since he even agreed to meet me in the first place.
I opened my menu, not really caring what I was going to eat, I didn't have much of an appetite.
Without looking from his menu, and without a hint of genuine care in his voice he said, “The chicken-fried steak is good here.”
Like he actually cared.
The waitress came to our table. She was pretty. Slim, blonde hair, friendly face, and her uniform complimented her figure nicely.
“And what'll we be havin' today?”
The fake enthusiasm was far too transparent.
“I'll have the New York steak, medium rare with a baked potato and an ice tea to drink” said Charles.
Fucker had to go and get the most expensive thing on the menu since I was the one who would end up paying.
“OK,” as she wrote down his order, “and for you?”
“The chicken-fried steak please. French fries on the side and I'll stick with water to drink.”
“Coming right up!”
She took our menus and disappeared into the kitchen which was right across from us. Charles looked up at me, his eyes magnified behind thick-rimmed glasses.
I would have been more comfortable giving a speech in front of Congress.
“So,” he intensified his gaze, “what would you have me do?”
I knew exactly what I wanted him to do, but I couldn't find the words. Those damn eyes...
“I need to talk to her and we didn't leave on the best terms, and she always listens to you—” begging, I was actually begging him for help “—I was hoping... Maybe you could talk to her, and just... Just see if you could convince her to talk with me.”
I hated it, but there wasn't much else I could do.
“Yeah well, she doesn't always listen.”
The waitress came back and set our meals in front of us. The aroma of grease and the unmistakable stench of over-processed cow met my nostrils.
As fast as the food appeared, my appetite disappeared.
He cut into his steak and the juices flowed from it. He greedily shoveled it into his mouth while I played with my own food with my knife. The sponge like “steak” expelled grease with every poke and prod.
Not wanting to be the only one not eating, I cut into the steak, averting my eyes from the plate.
Charles polished off almost half of his meal before finally speaking again.
“I'm not doing this for you,” he began, stopping to finish the last bit of food in his mouth before continuing, “but I know you can take care of her and she needs that right now.”
The words were forced, and familiar to my ears.
I slammed my fists onto the table and shut my eyes.
“Enough!” I screamed out. I had seen this same scenario unfold at least a dozen times now.
Sometimes I had the chicken-fried steak, sometimes he did. Sometimes I ate nothing. Sometimes it was nighttime, other times it was breakfast. There was a redhead waitress, a brunette waitress and a blonde waitress. One of them was really old and others were young. Peggy's Diner, Sue's Diner, Moe's Diner, The Resthouse. The name changed every time but it was always the same fucking diner.
A copy of a copy of a copy.
Chapter 2
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
My eyes snapped open. I rolled over in my bed and smacked the alarm clock until I found the “Off” button. Where was I? I sat up in my bed, my own bed. In my own room.
I couldn't remember a thing about last night and my head was throbbing. I rose from bed and walked through my open bedroom door into the hallway. I wasn't going to bother getting dressed yet, I didn't even want to be awake but I needed aspirin.
Stacks of dishes were piled up on the counter, which I really should take care of, but I'll get to them later. First thing first.
I opened the cabinet above the sink, knocking aside various bottles of whatever until I found the aspirin. I popped the child-safety lock and dumped several of the tablets into my mouth and guzzled water from the sink faucet.
What the hell did I do last night? It's not like I spent the night drinking with friends. The idea of me spending time with “friends” made me laugh a little. I started back to my room when I remembered I had some laundry left in the garage.
I went to the garage to the washer against the wall and opened up the lid, took the clothes out and opened the dryer door and tossed handfuls of soggy clothes in. The smell of laundry soap stuck to my hands even after I dried them off. It would take about 45 minutes for the clothes to dry. The noise from the dryer imme
diately brought back the headache that the aspirin was just starting to dull away.
I groaned and headed back to the hallway door. When I opened it, I noticed the door to my office was open.
So was your bedroom door when you woke up. Since when do you EVER leave the doors open?
I don't leave them open.
The house seemed much colder than before I went into the garage. I rubbed my hands together and already saw goosebumps popping up on my legs and arms. I walked over to the office door and closed my hand around the knob.
I paused for a moment to take a quick look around but I didn't see anything unusual, so I shut the door.
I don't know what it was, but I felt… Different. There was a particular emotion I could feel, but I couldn't tell what it was. I've never been great at identifying feelings. I shook it off and went back into my bedroom so I could get dressed.
The first place I usually looked for clothes to wear was the floor, but I didn't see any there so I went to my dresser instead. I grabbed a navy blue T-shirt from the top drawer, black pants from the second to last drawer and socks from the middle drawer. I hopped around on one foot until I was able to get the pants up and then sat on the bed to get the shirt and socks on.
I grabbed a navy blue t-shirt from the top drawer, black pants from the second to last drawer and socks from the middle drawer.
Navy-blue shirt, top drawer. Black pants from the second to last. Socks from the middle... Was that right?
I got up off the bed and went back to my dresser and opened the top drawer. Yep, inside were shirts. At least the few that were left. The rest were in the dryer right now. Blue, gray, black, brown, white. Shirts. Why was this strange? I couldn't quite put my finger on it but it bothered me. And that feeling I had in the hallway was creeping back up on me. It made me feel heavy. Like my limbs were made from lead. I had to sit back down on my bed, but that just made it harder to breathe. I inhaled deeper and deeper to get a normal breath of air and my head went blank for a moment. I exhaled shakily, which confused me, and I felt my eyes welling up.
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