[The following is an excerpt of a larger piece. Editing is required and any and everything is subject to change. Feel free to leave comments[a].]
I sank deeply into the dark space under which most people know. There is the id, yes, but it was somewhere beneath and somewhere that wasn't mine. It was neither before nor after what comes with being alive, and yet I distinctly felt like it was a memory of descending, bathing, and breathing in warm soap.
The brush of my hair and that stirredness of nakedness where I could feel the water everywhere, so cleanly and clearly. I opened my eyes to the comfort of darkness. I saw no one and nothing, nor even myself. There was no light and I was happy. Red water churned in my ears. I fell and fell again. Plummeting.
I never wanted to wake up, if I were indeed asleep. I felt more alive now than I ever expected to anywhere. My muscles were loose and my mind empty. Not a worry or fear. Simple flotation, a gentle pull beneath, and nothing more.
It was then they appeared. Like motes sprouting in a cool drink. They spread and multiplied, growing broad amongst my sight until they swarmed and shone in splendor. I was afraid. I wept not for the lights but for what was between them and who I must be, for I had no light to give.
Someday, I knew, this eternity would end and the lights would leave me, but I did not know it then. The eternity lies in the future, where it always would, while I dithered in the space between now and then. I opened my eyes a second time, rubbing the dark from my eyes like ink. The pinpricks desolved in the ocean as I could see them no more. It wasn't fair… seeing the darkest dark stare as unblinkingly as the shadow of the sun. It had been there to warn me and I took heed.
Air flowed up my nostrils and the world began to drain. Light returned and the darkest dark was never there. Hair clung to my skin and black streaks ran from my eyes. I coughed and hacked the warmth out of my body and replaced it with heat. The sun baked my scalp and I was now firmly grasped by clenched fist. The present.
My Earthly Home
Jui awoke in the car–hot, sweaty, and brain-boiled. The sun shot a piercing summer star off the long rock-creased line on the windshield. The mark lasted in her right eye. She sat upright, rubbing it with a knuckle. The rearview mirror reminded her of the runny streaks of eyeliner smudged into a smattered drip halfway down the right side of her brow. She scoffed and wiped her eyes.
Her phone rested on the dashboard. She took it. The glass burned. The numbers ticked down, slipping through her fingers. Another fifteen minutes until the second half of her shift. She checked her bag and sighed. Carla would probably let her borrow some eyeliner. Did it really matter? A crumpled napkin in the passenger seat was good enough for a clean wipe. Still looked awful.
Her hair had cut itself loose from her ponytail, snaking its way down her back and stuffed into the collar of her shirt. Where was that scrunchie when she needed it? Carla would probably have an extra hair-tie. Yeah. Looking down, she spotted the original. Never mind then.
Air inside this old car was flavored with stale polyester and the chemical-sweet of a weeping radiator that so desperately begged to be fixed instead of having its tears merely refilled. There was always a darkening under the chassis.
The thread of her work shirt was bothering her. Sweat. A reddening of the skin underneath. The glint of her nametag a pyrite sheen. “JUI” No one ever pronounced it right. She never took the tag off. The hole it left was far too visible and the metal far too hot for the moment. So she did nothing. She stirred in the driver's seat. A blink. Just about ten minutes left. Shallow breaths.
Jui wanted to open the windows but the stagnant, stale air of the vehicle was preferable to the cloudy plume of diner grease, cigarettes, and the breath of semi-trucks. The air conditioner blew hot air. The restaurant was cooler, but it wasn't cool. It was cold. Much, much too cold.
She used to love it. The icy breeze over the tables made her shiver back when she had summer vacations. Jui remembered when they put that sun bleached “Grand Reopening” sign up. The building itself was in good enough shape. A brick-red roof and neon signs. Those glass windows with whatever special thing Hartman made her put up there. All along the parking lot were people passing through. Engines growling and idling, waiting to get going to nowhere at all.
She placed her head on the steering wheel. A small thud, like a whimper. She imagined her skin sizzling. The alarm rang. She knew it before it had. She put her hair up, latched it together with a few bobby pins, opened the car door, and hoisted her body out. Jui locked the car manually.
As she reached the threshold of the diner, she jolted to the sound of an engine roaring, the kind she felt in her chest before it made it to her ears. Carla popped out of the passenger’s seat, ducked her head in the window and back out. She ran up to Jui, waving.
"Hello, Jui, my dear," Carla said breathlessly. Her makeup was immaculate, unaffected by the heat or the run she had just made.
"Hey, Carla." She smiled, "You're on time today."
Carla patted down the wrinkles on her shirt and stole a glance into her phone's inner camera. Her eyes turned to Jui for only a second before spinning around with a wave. “Bye! Love you!” She turned back to Jui. “I thought we were both late, not gonna lie." Satisfied (enough), she put her phone away. "Man, I don't know why it was so hard to get out of bed this morning.”
Jui grinned, "This morning?"
"Haha, whatever."
Jui: What kept you up last night?
Carla: Boyfriend.
Jui: Ah.
Jui: Was that him? Who is he this time?
Carla: Don’t say it like that!
Jui: Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.
Jui: Sorry.
Carla: Heh. Well…
Carla: Remember that one guy I was talking about from school?
Jui: The guy from your psych class?
Carla: Hehehe–Yeeeaaah…~
Jui: Arlando?
Carla: Heheh.
Jui: Really?
Carla: He’s kinda crass, but he’s cute and nice when he wants to be.
Jui: When… he wants to be?
Jui: Well…
Jui: Be careful.
Carla: It’s fine.
Carla: Besides, we’ve been together for about a month now anyway.
Jui: Oh.
Carla: Yeah.
Jui held the door open for her.
"Hey, you wanna hang out after work?"
"I don't know," she said.
"C'mon, Aaron said he'd hook us up after closing,"
Jui rolled it around in her mind, as she always did. If she was going to hang out she'd rather not spend it drinking. And if she was going to spend it drinking, she'd rather not spend it here.
"I'm actually not gonna be here until closing. I'm off at six," she said. Always good for an excuse.
The two had moseyed over to the POS at the greeter's podium. Carla clocked in, "Oh, jeez, did Hartman have you work another split? You know you can tell him 'no', right?"
Jui scooted in and hit some buttons. She shrugged, eyes on the screen, "I need the money." That was only mostly true.
"Hon, we all do."
Jui just shrugged again. [Carla exits the scene.]
Jui’s mind wandered. Ellen's used to be such a special place for her as a kid. Burger baskets and onion rings on those Saturday mornings. Dad used to smile at me back then... Papa too.
The old diner was exactly that. Old. The rooms smelled ironically new, of refurbishing plastic and that same steam-cleaned hard carpet from the '70s. The fluorescent hornets burned behind ceiling fans that made the whole place strobe.
The front of the house was still dead besides the two guys drinking at the bar. Jui waved to Aaron. He made eye-contact and nodded with a clenched smile. The two men were laughing. They were the only voices to be heard and flooded the air with their cigarette breath. Jui did her best not to listen. One of them knocked over an empty bottle.
“Fuck, she had tits out to here, man. Would’a fucked her good but found out she had ficukin’ kids so I left the bitch right there.”
The other hawked something up and made to spit on the floor before gulping.
“Yeah man, good for you. You can’t fuck around with that shit. Never have kids. Know what I’m sayin’? Just fucks shit up. Makes it too goddamn complicated.” Aaron gave him another beer. “...Jesus.” He shook his head.
This time of the day was the worst, but what part wasn't? The tables, sparkling clean, dishes done, food prepped. There was nothing to do. The place was swarmed for breakfast and swamped for dinner, but no one but wanderers, take-outs, and truck drivers came in the afternoons. If anyone at all.
The bathrooms were stocked and clean. She found a single stale fry tucked in a booth, promptly threw it away, and wiped down the seat just for good measure.
Panic started to creep in. She had to keep her legs moving, her eyes searching. Until a single customer came in–two if Carla got to them first–she was lost amid an invisible obligation. If she wasn't actively contributing, she thought she’d might as well clock back out until a customer arrived. Guilt seeped in. She was useless.
Wandering back and forth, she managed to find a five minute project. Garbage. The kitchen garbage could always use taking out, especially before the dinner rush. Sure, why not?
She ducked into the back and tried as genuine a smile as she could muster at the line cook. “Hey, Hector.” He looked at her then back to watching his phone. Okay.
"I'm gonna take out the garbage, is that ok with you Hector?" she said. It was filled about halfway with beer bottles and cans..
He didn't say anything. She waited. Okay.
She tied it off and hung it off her shoulder. Before leaving, she dropped in a new bag just in case Hector needed it immediately.
Out of the scuffed and scummed back door, she kicked it open and propped it open. The dumpster was a few feet away. She lifted the lid and threw it open. A quick swing of the bag and—
Teeeaaar!
"Ah—!" Jui dropped everything, a red line on her right arm. The sound of a shattered Pop! and glittering green and brown shards spilled all around.
Garbage everywhere. She was bleeding. The hot wind had picked up scattering everything. She was going to have to move fast. She grabbed the bag and whatever was left in it and tossed it in. She stooped and scooped as much as she could in each motion prioritizing the napkins and sheet plastics, the skittering bits that were dancing around. She got it all in, a quick and easy thing, all things considered. The dripping on her arm was getting a bit cumbersome. She pressed it close and let it fade into the black of her shirt.
The back door shut. It was locked.
"Great," she said. Holding her arm up and away from herself, she hustled around the building to the front door through late noon shadows and sticky asphalt. She tried to be discreet coming through the entrance a second time. Opening the door back into the lobby, she caught Hartman's glance just as he opened the door of his office.
"Jui?" he looked at her under heavy eyebrows. Jui raised her head to meet his eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Hartman," Jui said, smiling.
He was already folding his arms. "Are you just coming in?"
Jui wiped the dampness of her hands on her pants. "Yeah, I just—cut myself. It's fine. I'm sorry."
He peered at her, "Let me see." She showed him this small faint line with a pale ruffle of dead skin. Hardly a scratch. He looked back at her, "Yeah, you look fine." She bit the inside of her cheek. "Try not to be late again, though."
"What?" Jui said. "No, no, I already clocked in at four." She tried a laugh, "I just came in from taking out the garbage."
"Huh," Hartman walked over to the POS system and tapped some buttons. "No, you haven't."
Jui felt something drop inside of herself. "Oh, um... Really. . .?"
"Go ahead and punch in then, just try not to make a habit of being late, okay?" was all he said before opening the door back into his office. "I'd rather you were honest with me, Jui." The door closed.
Jui stood there for a moment, her arm to her side. The cut was bleeding again. Carla came out of the bathroom, fingers flailing on her phone. She looked up and stopped, "Are you okay?" she asked.
Jui smiled, "Yeah, just—it's fine. Sorry, don't worry about me." She passed Carla to the bathroom to clean her arm. Warm, soapy water with a flash of red within. The wound wasn't deep, but it wasn't the one that hurt.
* * *
The engine coughed and spit into the sunset on the winding highway. Jui was heading home. Her eyes were tired and her lungs were becoming too lazy to take a full breath. The night was coming later now. She wouldn't see the stars tonight. She turned toward the window and unrolled it. The air whipped and slashed, catching her strands and taking them anywhere.
Shafts of light were looming behind the mountains, slipping between the pines and ferns of the wood. Long shadows barred the road. The road was black and the light was leaving. The sun played in the woods. It raged on the road.
It was still so hot. Jui slipped her bra off and untucked her shirt about a mile ago when traffic was lighter and she could spare a hand. It didn't help much. Her hair was still up. Her neck breathed. Her back suffocated.
A smell floated in. Something sour like lime. Heady like mold. Pleasant like earth. Grass had been cut. Firs waved in the wind. She came to a stop sign and leaned her head back. Her eyes closed by themselves. The circles of prismatic light filtered in through her eyelashes. Out there were the [tk] Timberlands. She clenched at her collar. What if he was still out there?
[honk!]
Her foot reacted faster than her brain did. Her heart galloped. The window rolled back up.
***
Her car pulled up to the front of the house right off the highway, all pale and laced with darkness. Ivy had eaten the paint and been torn off with it, the outlines like the nuclear shadow of a giant squid. Crushed stone gravel crunched underfoot as sharp, frayed tips of blond grass scratched at her ankles. Not a single light shone from the house. First home.
She stopped. She knelt down and picked up a rock thinner than the others, tapered on both ends. It made it to her pocket.
The front door opened quickly and shut quietly. The air was stale. Jui didn’t breathe. The carpet was gray. She kept her shoes on. The old coffeepot was filled with thick, burnt coffee. Her jaw set. The wash of old lavender and cedar had long faded into a memory of a dream.
She passed the couch and TV—the one still on and running the news. There was nothing for her to do here. Her feet carried her down the side hall, practiced and unquestioning. She closed the door to her room behind her.
She threw off her clothes, socks and all, with the others into a pile as a doorstop. Her fingernails dragged over the bristle of new stubble on her shins. She sat at the edge of the bed, eyes fixated on the wall, away from the window. Peeling her contacts out, she blinked once.
The air was stagnant and damp. The room was hugging her close, the ceiling hovering over her shoulders, the floor pushing up under her feet. The door was locked from the inside, but not in the knob. She blinked twice.
Her hair fell to her shoulders as she pulled her scrunchie out. She slipped on her glasses, fell back, and Jui did what she did every night. She did not watch the stars. She couldn't see them anyway. She didn't know where they were anymore.
The cranking rumble of a diesel engine grew louder until the twisted gravel rested and the truck was silent. Dad. The front door opened then closed. She blinked a third time and shut her eyes. A knock at the door. She pulled the covers to her chin.
He asked if she were home. His voice vibrated the wood.
She put her arms behind her head, scrunching the pillow to her ears, "Yep."
There was a long pause. If it was pregnant, it was stillborn. He shuffled. Two shadows slid back and forth under the door. A moment.
And he was gone. The volume of the TV shrank away but hummed low and away. Jui leaned over her bed to scoop up her pants and fish out her phone from her pockets. She tapped out:
"Hey, how're things going?"
She waited, propped on the elbows and kicking her tangled feet. The white of the empty screen was blinding, not to her eyes but to everything outside them.
". . ." ". . ." ". . ." It rolled on.
[its soooo dead here, girl! holy shit, i'm dying x'D]
Jui let her phone flop down. What else was there to say?
[That sucks.]
[haha yeah]
[. . . . . . . . .]
[you sure you dont wanna hang out?]
She really, really did.
[That's okay. I'm already home anyway.]
[Sorry.]
[thats cool. im not feeling the best tonight anyway. super tired -.- lol]
[Yeah, me too.]
[. . . . . . - - -]
Nothing. Hartman probably caught her. Or, rather, she snuck right around him noticing. Either way, Carla had stopped texting. Jui let her elbows fail, her face into the pillow. Slowly she brought her covers up to her neck, wriggling her feet. The room darkened as the sun finally dissolved and the icy dark blotted out the whites of her eyes.
***
It was late now. Illegally late, you know. Dad wouldn't like having her out past “late”... if she were allowed out at all. Still, she could hear his clogged snores dumping down the halls. The only sound in the house that made her feel like it was okay to be herself, if only for just a little while.
Her face still burned thinking about it–thinking about other people knowing about it. Misunderstanding it. That she preferred her nakedness to dress. Especially when the Earth’s axis tilted her part of the world that little bit closer to the sun, she felt compelled to throw everything off.
She caught herself clenching her jaw too tight grinding at a molar while she hobbled down the hallway shrouded in naught but a blanket and carrying a cloth bag. One time, she had tried sneaking away in flip-flops. The SLAP-SLAP on hardwood may as well have been throwing cast iron into the china hutch. Her dad hadn't heard–she was pretty sure–but her ghost of a nerve had all but evaporated.
Tonight, she was going barefoot. She'd been building up a callous and memorizing the layout of the yard, where the stone paths were, where the gravel was, where the burr patches grew, and how to silently tolerate the sharp surprise of a stab in the arch.
The side yard was empty but she couldn’t hear if the sliding door opened. The shed was just an extension of the inside (and rife with spiders.) Instead, she stood behind the walnut tree with just enough room to stand and pace and where the moonlight could meet her when the night was agreeable. And the night was very agreeable.
An excuse was always kept on hand. Something about “I was going to shower, but I heard something and I had to check it out, but it was nothing.” It was vague and sloppy, but it worked as insurance. Dad would never question it. Her towels and the pajamas that she never wore anymore were laid out in the bathroom anyway.
She had checked the area for spiders as best as she could without a flashlight. Tonight had gifted her with a full moon but at such an angle behind the tree to maintain her invisibility. She dropped the blanket in the grass.
It was then she allowed herself to become alive. For this brief moment, she became alive.
Her skin stiffened against the outdoor air. She tipped her chin toward the moon. Felt the tips of her hair sweep at the small of her back.
[SFX] She ducked down, arms tight. Her foot was always on the blanket so she wouldn't lose it. Every noise startled her. Jui stood again releasing herself. Breath she hadn’t known she was holding escaped her nostrils.
Between the shed and the fenceless dirt field behind the house she had set up a tent earlier in the spring, just below a slope away from the view of the house. Keeping the tree to her back, she could walk down stitchless in its silhouette. She set her bag down inside and slipped into the tent. A flash of light from a struck match and she lit a candle. Snuggled in her blanket, she reached back in the bag and pulled out her book, a copy of Walden.
It was dense and difficult to read, but she was in love with Thoreau’s experiment. To live in the woods, alone and self-sufficient. If only the world still worked that way. It was fun to think about and she’d let herself dream a little. Incredible people did things like that. She knew she didn’t have the guts.
Only a half chapter deep and the anxiety returned. She hadn’t heard a sound or seen a slight stirring of a shadow, but it had been that certain amount of time that she felt she’d pressed her luck enough. It would only take one mistake for Dad to shut this down.
She snuffed the candle and checked for embers. She zipped the tent, stuffed the book back in its bag, and swaddled herself with her blanket, aware of how white her body glowed in the moonlight, a stage light magnifying her trespass.
Running–lightly and quickly–her foot caught a thistle. An empty yelp clench in her gut. Hop. Hop. Hop. The sliding door opened and closed. Hop. Hop. Hop. Balancing on her right hip, she lifted her left foot up to pull the thing out. Only the medicine cabinet could be heard opening and closing.
She jumped back into bed. Her body jostled in ways normal people never knew. It made her want to laugh, but she wouldn’t. Her breathing was fast. It was worth it. Maybe one day, she dreamt, she'd be brave enough to go out despite what anyone thought.
The world would just have to go blind first.
***
The water came rushing in, washing me away. I managed into a wretched place. I hadn't a time when I didn't know this place. A sick feeling. The cracking of a chrysalis, the knowingness of pressing out against my body. This place was at the smallest point and I grew too big.
I pushed against the walls, distilling my being into the light without. Emerging, I breathed in water and lightning. The stars blinked in my mind. I faced the shadow, large and pointed set gently on my head. The pressure was great and I sank into my shoulders, turning me inside out.
I blinked and nothing blinked back. Ejected.
Rejected.
***
Jui awoke another afternoon to the sound of guttural diesel as she was moving between dreams. Dad was gone. It was hot again. Two o'clock. Work was in four hours today. Her mind fogged, her heart panted. Sweat glued her to the sheets.
For half an hour she laid there. Arms, legs, knees, elbows, all were limp. Her spirit clenched and ground with her teeth. It was only the insistence of her bladder that got her up. She threw on a long T-shirt. She almost didn’t dress at all, but maybe he was still there. Or, worse, had some friend or some person he knew from whatever just sitting on the couch waiting for him to come back. It wouldn’t be the first time..
She put her pajama pants on, too. The ones she never wore.
She flushed. The shower rushed, the water too cold— she had no time to adjust things. Time kept creeping up. Soap and lather, hair sticking, twisting, falling out. Deftly, reluctantly, she heaved. Raking razors over her body, pulling out short sprouts with metal teeth. A rush job. It'd have to do. Pink barnacles swelled.
The crook under her arms burned. Red leaked from her shins. It ran away with the water leaving a familiar sting to her regular routine. The water was drying— blow-drying— and spattered away from the fall of her hair. At last she painted on that dark, obligatory face, the one her public demanded. The regular colors and prescribed tone, made up to look beautiful.
Thickened lashes and reddened lips.
None of it was hers, and none of it beautiful.
If only she were beautiful.
Four hours had passed in a numb humming vibration of semi-vertical existence, idle the whole while. Back in the weeping vehicle. She filled the tank with the last of her tips, scraping across the one-quaarter mark. She didn't think it important to eat.
***
The sound of balding tires slipping across the highway. Swathes of creeping grass blurred over the railing of the road. Jui sighed and sucked it back in. The same air. Coolant was leaking again, the car running a fever. Her head turned sour and she cranked down the window.
I can smell the water.
Her eyes focused for just a second. An intrusive thought. Her pupils drifted away from the road's white lines dripping past her. The edge of the woods was there. A block of dark green color, that's all it was. But the air that came in, the air that drifted over the wind and the rails and the grass and the dripping white lines and went straight into her nostrils. It wasn't a scent that she knew and something deep inside her told her she ought to.
Her skin tightened.
She blinked once. Her eyes snapped back to the road and were unfocused again. The air was still there, she chose not to smell it.
She had work to do.
***
It was going to be a busy night tonight. It was Thursday night: KIDS EAT FREE! Also known as Extra Work & Less Tips! It was better when she was on the receiving end. Had she known, she wouldn’t have begged Papa and Dad to go. Jui got through the doors fifteen minutes early.
Carla was seating a small party of three. Aaron wasn't there yet. Jui took the opportunity to punch in— and double check— and get straight to it.
Two older women walked in just as she crinkled the time stamp pausing just to slip it into her pocket. (Just in case.)
"Excuse me, but could you tell us how long the wait time is, hm?" the first woman, a pear-shaped lady with graying hair, had said. The other woman, graying blonde and straight as a flute, fidgeted.
Jui snapped to. "Oh! Yeah, it shouldn't be too long. Probably about—" she looked around. The booths were already full and most of the tables still hadn't been bussed. One set of regulars looked to be wrapping up. “It shouldn’t be too long.”
“And how long is that?”
"Uhhmm. . .” She looked around again. I don’t know. I don’t know. “I'd say no more than ten minutes." She could clean the tables up right quick. No problem.
“Okay, thank you." The two women left. The tall flute-shaped one glanced around the diner before turning and following.
Jui turned, "Hey, Carla."
Carla smiled at her,, pulling a stray strand from her face. Her cheeks were flushed. "Hey, Jui!" She set down a stack of menus on the podium. "Missed you last night. Aaron isn't all that much fun to hang out with turns out."
"Sorry. So you did go last night?" Jui said.
“Yeah, but Aaron only brought Fireball and it was just us and Arlando. I guess they knew each other at one point. It was weird, you didn’t miss anything.”
“Ah, that’s disappointing.” She was trying to focus on her job. Why was it so hard? "Um, I just had a couple of people that need a table. Is ten minutes about accurate?"
Carla shrugged. "Dunno. They'll get a table whenever there's one open." Jui went to leave. "Where are you going?"
Jui whirled around, walking backwards, "Gonna bus some tables."
"Oh, o-okay," Carla said.
Plates clattered as Jui stacked them and dumped them into the bus tub. She tried her best not to make a racket out of it for everyone. Ketchup was smeared on one of the napkin holders. One of those kinds of messes that comes with kids and drunk people.
The sani bucket hadn't been filled in the morning. She went to the kitchen to do that, taking the tub with her.
"Hello, Hector." She tried a smile. He looked up at her but said nothing. Okay. Everything got wiped down, clean and— an army awaited.
Jui's face scrunched together for just a second until she pulled it back into a smile. There had to be at least ten of them, including three kids and an infant. She recognized the two women from earlier and the painfully obvious occurred to her.
She had made an error.
Carla was talking to the pear-shaped woman. "I'm sorry, but it'll be a bit longer before we'll have a table ready." Ellen's wasn’t. Six booths, four tables, and the bar. Two tables, freshly scrubbed, could fit eight people if they all squeezed. The other two were still filled.
"We were told it'd be only ten minutes, it's been nearly thirty now," the pear-shaped woman said. The flute-shaped woman tensed. It hadn’t been twenty.
"We'll let you know as soon as a table is available," Carla told her.
Jui caught up and started explaining, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot to ask you the size of your party. That's my fault.” She laughed. “ It'll be a bit longer than what I told you. I apologize." She spoke with her hands with the finesse of an animatronic. She noticed how awkward she was yet couldn't stop.
The woman’s eyes widened and mouth slacked. "How can you just wave that away? We would have gone somewhere else if you had just told us." She turned to the thin woman, “See, I keep telling dad this place has terrible service. I don’t know why he insists on coming here every year.”
Jui wrung her wrists in front of her. "I'm really very sorry. " The pear-shaped woman turned back, appalled that Jui had listened in.
Carla went to work herding everyone into a seat in the waiting area by the door and passing out menus. Carla knew how to handle people. Jui just stood about dazed, feeling extra and useless. She turned to go check on some customers, getting water, running food. The works.
Those two men from yesterday were chatting, hanging out, laughing loudly, in the second table between the others that could be open to solve everyone's problem. But what was she going to do? Kick them out? Actually, yes, technically, she could do just that, but...
Then she had an idea. She could, in theory, push the two empty tables together and nudge it close to the booth in the corner. Six plus four. It'd be a bit of a pain, going around the two men that way, but she wasn't about to ask them to leave and the pear-shaped woman didn't look like she was going to wait much longer.
She flagged down Carla, who was looking dogged. "Can you ask them if they wouldn't mind three tables together? I think I can push them together if we have to."
"Ah, sure, whatever these people need to shut up," Carla said, coughing. Jui wished she would talk quieter. The room was hot enough as it was.
The tables scraped at the carpet, clean silver clattering in place. "Excuse me," she said with a smile to the two men, still laughing and talking about something Jui specifically paid no attention.
“God, see that’s why you can’t take shit from women.” He laughed into his mug.
Finally, with maybe some squeezing, they could all ten of them, including the baby seat or a highchair if they needed one. Maybe it'll work.
It was a circus of musical chairs, of grumbles and grunts. Jui gathered that not everyone in this—she presumed—family really wanted to be there and it wasn't an issue of menu or ambiance. Kids screaming, one of them running a circuit around the table and knocking over salt shakers. They had nine people sitting and one standing.
Then the two men left, perfectly-timed convenience, annoyed by the ruckus. Hartman came out from his office. He paused to see his restaurant as the zoo it had become. Tables mashed into each other like a freeway accident, irritated adults and crying children.
Running around, going nowhere. Hearing, listening to no one. On the edges, Jui was doing her best to contain this entire galleon that had shipwrecked, its passengers overboard and spilling all over the floor, wailing, on this godforsaken island.
Approaching, Hartman spoke to Jui. "What's going on?" She noticed, only now, the physical sensation of sweat sliding down her back. "Making room for a party of ten," she said, feeling more stupid than she could recall, the robotic twitch going again. "I've tried consolidating the tables here, I just need to bus this one here." Where was Carla?
Hartman took a look around. "Why didn't you just put them in the large party booth?" he said, pointing a finger at the place in question.
Four plates, neatly stacked. Wouldn't take but a minute to empty. Why hadn't she seen it earlier? She was sure—
"That— makes a lot more sense. I'm sorry, I'll fix it," Jui mustered. No excuses, she had a job to do, and she'd rather not make it worse. But where was Carla? She needed help.
"I need you to pay attention, Jui. This is pretty simple stuff," he said to her.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she said.
After an unnecessary amount of herding, convincing, and apologizing, and a quick scrub down, she got everyone where they needed to be and the night carried on as normal. No one was happy.
***
The drive home was dark. The night was late. The sky was matte with clouds and the air was trapped, stuffy and hot. The sun had just vanished. There were no stars to see. Jui’s knuckles were taut. She tried breathing. Her lip wobbled. Her teeth ground.
When she arrived home, nothing had changed. The house was empty except the light upstairs and the heavy footsteps. The coffee was burnt and the television vomited.
She eventually ate. Her higher-mind told her she had to. Frozen corn dogs, she supposed. A microwave meal meant less hassle. She would've eaten at work if she hadn't gotten tired of the food there, and if it didn't feel so much like stealing. The food wasn't better here by any means, but at least she bought these herself.
She returned to her room with a hot plastic plate with a puddle of ketchup. She ate quickly to get it over with. It wasn't bad. It wasn't good. Wasn't it enough that she had to eat it at all?
Jui's eyes traced the walls. She used to find animals and faces in the sporadic patterns of drywall. Whatever happened to that?
Those walls were now bare, dotted with black pinpricks. There used to be posters of bands, video games, movies. . . she hadn't bothered to put anything back up since she graduated high school besides the one college banner that now lived in the landfill.
The shelves had some mismatching books and DVDs. A stack of gray Nintendo cartridges turning grayer still with dust. The old console had burned out years ago and her childhood with it.
She spent time looking at the games, remembering being in those worlds. Oh, how she wished she could reboot the past. Though knowledge of the future spoiled it all anyway.
She never did finish any of those games.
***
It was another night and Jui was exhausted, yet alight with her mini-adventure. The air was warm again that night and the moon bright as it was just beginning to wane. To eyes used to the dark, it felt like day.
Jui sprayed herself down with mosquito repellant that stank of that nostalgic chemical summer cabin. Always Jui noticed how wonderfully odd it felt to feel the spray and cooling warm wind everywhere on the surface of her skin. It was like going from half-lidded to wide awake. She opened and closed the sliding glass door, pivoting on her heels.
Shoulders under her blanket, she made it out to her tent. Tonight, she brought something new: a chair. She wanted to work on a project that she had meant to start last month. The moon was again bright enough and the sky was clear enough that she wouldn’t have to wrestle with candlelight.
It was difficult getting one of the kitchen chairs out to the backyard without a sound–though she did scuff the floor at one point. She had waited for what felt like an eternity to resume breathing and another to convince herself to keep going.
It wasn't very comfortable, but she could sit on it for an hour. She was a little exposed behind the walnut tree, but it wouldn't be a problem. At worst, Dad might see her feet and she'd hear him long before he could see anything else. She brought her pajamas with her this time, stashed them in the tent, and gave herself a clear way to dash inside. Emergency exit secured.
The air was fickle and Jui couldn't decide if she was warm or cold. Hair follicles prickled and she shivered. It was warm enough. Sitting down, she dropped her blanket around her sides and it separated her bare skin from the chair itself. Ankles crossed, she held some twine up and adjusted her glasses. The moon was bright, indeed.
The twine was frayed but its ruggedness fit her project well. In her other hand she had the oblong stone she found among the gravel in the front yard yesterday, along with another she found when her car broke down in January. There wasn’t much to it. She’d been making these since Papa showed her how. The two stones crossed each other and she pinched together at the center. The twine wrapped past each crook in an ‘x’ pattern until it tied. A simple little thing. A stonestar.
Papa said that it represented destiny. Of two paths crossing each other, like when two people meet, for good or for ill. Life was full of these intersections and this stonestar represented just one of them. It was these intersections where people connected.
But this one’s side was far longer than the other. They were supposed to have two spokes of equal length. This one was like a cross and that wouldn’t do. She sighed and let the asymmetrical thing fall apart on her lap, looking up at the moon till it settled in her eyes. Clouds were rolling in. Light was failing. The stars were dark and the moon soon too. She looked back down. Her glasses slipped.
She wanted to finish it while there was still moonlight. Tying them together had been easier than she thought it’d be. Having larger hands than an eight year-old certainly helped. The trouble was the rest of the good stones were in the gravel back in the front. She thought.
It wouldn’t take long and as long as she stood under the awnings, made her way through the side yard, and made her search quick, nothing would happen. And the adventure of stealth. She took her blanket but kept it to her side. A smirk betrayed itself on her lips.
Do it.
She peaked from behind the walnut tree. The lights were off. The night had just enough wind and bug-sound to soften her steps. She hurried across to the shadows, the wind rushing through her. Her heart was pounding. Around the corner and into the side yard it was darker in the shadow of the house. Her feet tapped at the long grass and brushed past milk crates and plywood. No nails. She’d checked many times before and Dad hadn’t been back here for ages. She kept her steps ginger.
That terrifying, exhilarating font flowed from somewhere in her gut straight into her brain now that she was standing stark on her front porch facing her car, as well as her Dad’s, with the road down the hill behind them. She could see a neighbor’s house the size of her pinky nail when she lined them up. More than safe.
The front yard was littered with sharp gravel. Her feet could handle it but she worried about the bedroom just above her head. Dad was less than a few feet away as the termite flies, his window facing the front yard. But unless he woke up and didn’t turn any lights on, and looked out the window at this specific moment, he would see nothing. Besides, she’d be fast.
She threw the blanket to the chipped paint of the planks of the porch and started walking. She was dressed in full moonlight. She raised her arms up and behind her head, pulling her elbows and stretching her body out as she traveled just to know how it felt. She stooped and hovered her finger over the rocks. She waddled on the balls of her feet. There. Like a mouse, she bolted back to safety of the wall. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her shoulders fell and she smiled. She made her way back with the blanket over her arm.
She dropped back into the chair. The stonestar was undone and she placed the stone’s new sibling together in a four-pointed star. It was such a simple thing and it filled her with joy. She didn’t know why, nor did she care.
There was yellow. Peripheral. From the house window. Jui tucked back in, her escape plan forgotten. Why was Dad on the other side of the house? Why was he up past eleven? Why was he up at all? Was that even Dad? Who else could it be?
The blanket was pulled tight around her shoulders and everything else. This is what she got for being bold. For taking a risk. There's no way he didn't see. Or was there? If the lights were on, then outside would be pitch black to him. And vice-versa, if she waited too long and he turned out the lights, she would guarantee being seen. She'd have to wait until he fell back asleep, too.
The light went off and she kept her back to the tree. Jui dragged her pajamas over her body, itchy repellant between skin and cloth. She made it inside. She kept her pajamas on and lied down, listening.
She fell asleep wearing the pajamas she never wore. She couldn't be naked when she was afraid.
***
*buzz*buzz*buzz*
The alarm startled Jui awake as it always did. Her muscles were heavy. Her body fought her every step of getting out of bed. She laid there. It was Friday. The alarm vibrated across the nightstand again. Had it already been ten minutes?
It was only eleven in the morning. Dad was gone, the rumbling of his truck had long faded away. The house was quiet and there was nothing stirring but her tingling right leg. She brought her phone up to her face. The light was blinding.
[What happened to you last night? You seemed to be disappearing a lot.]
[. . . . . . . . .]
[oh srry, jui. i think I'm getting sick. was in and out of the bathroom]
[Oh no. Are you okay?]
[ya. nothing happened but it really feels like it might]
[damn aaron and his damn shit booze lol]
[Does drinking too much really last two days later?]
[lol no]
[Are you going to stay home today?]
[lmfao]
[i’m sure hartman would be totally ok with that]
[:( Take it easy, okay?]
[tell that to my guts]
A shiver passed over her. The window was open just a crack and the morning air still lingered. She wasn't cold. Carla... Jui hoped she was going to be okay.
Time had passed. Too much time. Jui was prattling about on her phone, the glass getting hot. Scrolling. Scrolling. She didn’t need a full shower, just a rinse and some perfume to stop smelling like mosquito repellent. But she had clean-ish clothes. And if she had to eat, she could get something on the way out or when she got back home.
She put her phone down and stared at the ceiling. Her shift wasn't for another three hours and yet this feeling arrested her. It kept her pinned down, like a frozen bolt of lightning that never eased.
It’s fine. I survive every single time. It's fine. What's the worst that will happen? I might get yelled at, sure. But does that actually hurt me? No. It’s fine. It's nothing I haven't been through already. I’m a survivor. I can do this. I always have.
She rocked herself back and forth, knees tucked to her chest. “It's not that bad. It's not that bad. I have nothing to complain about. Stop being stupid,” she said, lips barely touching. Her breath whispered from her mind. Jui felt stupid that she even had to tell herself these things.
*buzz*buzz*buzz*
Her phone screen lit up and shook. Jui scooped it up. Oh no.
[hey, rly sry, turns out im super sick. can you cover me?]
[you can say no]
[i gots me the flu, fever and all :p]
[hooray]
Jui's heart slid like a pad of butter off an upturned skillet. Runny, messy, unnecessary. Her fingers curled. Her lips gnarled behind her teeth. She couldn't leave Carla to work the Friday night shift sick. Especially not with some like the flu.
. . .but working the Friday night shift alone, without Carla, scared her much, much more. It might even be better to have Carla darting in and out to throw up, at least for Jui's sake. A clear reason and explanation as to why things were falling apart.
No. That was irrational thinking at best, selfish and cruel at worst. If Carla was asking, it must have been very, very bad.
And every second she delayed was telling her 'no' that much more assuredly.
*buzz*buzz*buzz*
Phone call.
She saw the caller ID and let it go to voicemail. Waited until it was safe. She listened for what she knew what she was going to hear.
"Jui, Carla's sick but I'm going to have her stay until you get here. Don't worry about coming in early. Alright? Okay, mhm, buh-bye."
The phone slipped from her fingers and put a soft dent in her right breast. She fumbled it back into her hands and tapped on the phone with unsteady, animatronic hands.
[Absolutely, don't worry about it :D I'll be in ASAP.]
Every key-press was heavy and deliberate. As soon as she hit the send button, sweat flashed on her whole being.
She would have to lie, of course. That was the hard part, coming up with a reason why she didn't pick up the phone, why Carla's text went through and not Hartman's call. Or maybe, she could just be there, not working, in case Carla had to go home. And if Carla left, well, that would be her choice.
In any case, she would have to get dressed. Scooping her clothes off the floor would be the easy part. Swinging her legs over the bed wouldn't be so bad. It was sitting up, getting started, that was so damned difficult.
Opening the door, she saw a note taped to it. Something from Dad. . .
. . .Of course, she wouldn't have seen this until the precise moment she was leaving. Could have told her himself.
. . .The cold sweat stayed with her. Of course.
***
Oh god, why? Why now? Why did she have to find out now? Why didn’t she see it earlier? What did he think she was doing? Apparently, not reading or just existing. Why did he have to say anything at all?
Jui had trouble finding parking. Gas was getting low again already. It'd been a while since she'd gotten it to full. She wondered if the car would die right there and then while circling the blacktop. She ended up having to park on the highway shoulder, just touching the brush. Not ideal, maybe not even legal, but other people did it all the time.
The car stopped. She took a deep breath.
It’s fine.
Inside was picturesque disorganized chaos. Chaos that would, no doubt, unravel as the night went on. Jui saw Carla putting the whole of her weight on the podium, her eyes half-lidded and her face humming red.
"Ah, there she is," she smiled weakly. "Sorry to throw you into this hellhole before your time."
Jui threw up her hands, "Oh, no, please, Carla, it's totally fine. You're good. You should get home and rest, you look worn out."
Carla stood upright and tilted for a moment before catching herself, "That obvious, huh? I guess I'll go take care of it then." She tripped and stepped on Jui's right foot. "Oh, god, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"
Jui swallowed it. It really didn't hurt that much. In fact, she didn't even feel it. "Yeah, it's okay. You go home, feel better, ok? Are you okay to get home?"
"Yeah, Arlando’s out in the car," Carla said.
And in my parking spot, Jui thought.
"Okay, I'll see you later, Joo," she gave one last small wave and headed out. "Good luck."
The night was fresh and her nerves already frayed. Cold adrenaline pumped the only courage she had into her veins. Her shoes politely reminded her they were breaking. She trained a smile on her mouth. She would not be asked why there were tears in her eyes. She would not have tears at all.
She talked to Aaron behind the bar. He brought her up to speed on Carla's tables. She then sat a table of five. Tables needed bussing and food needed prepping. That would be her slack to pull in, too, she supposed.
It’s fine.
Spills from twenty minutes earlier were sticking to, and seeping through, her shoes. Mustard-Pepsi. Six different feet had seen fit to walk through it before she could even get the 'Wet Floor' signs up, let alone clean it.
The night whirled around her and after servicing at least three quarters of the tables in the building, she checked the time on her phone. She shifted her jaw side-to-side, teeth clenched and not letting it show. 5:01pm. One minute past when she was supposed to clock-in.
“Jui, get off your phone.”
Jui sucked in a gasp and promptly turned to face her boss. “I'm sorry. Just— checking the time.” She smiled so, so painfully. Politely.
“Table #3 needs napkins. Can you do that, please?” he said.
“Yes sir,” she said and hustled away, double-time.
Ice. All she felt was ice tinkling in a belly too bloated for anything more. The only fire she had left was in the soles of her feet. The night went on as the nights typically did. Busy, busy, busy. Jui liked to think that she tried her best. But she wasn't so sure. Maybe she could do better, like Dad said.
But— how?
*ding!*
Hector rang the bell from the kitchen. Jui rushed over. She cross-referenced the ticket with the order, just to be safe. “BBQ-Ranch on the gluten free... yes?” she said, mostly to herself. She looked at Hector. He looked at her but said nothing. She slid the plate onto her tray. Then she saw for sure.
“Uh, wait. . . Hey, uh, Hector? This one needs to be gluten-free.”
“What?” he called from behind the sizzling and the heat of the fryers.
“It's the wrong bun, Hector!” Jui raised her voice just loud enough to be heard. She hated to yell.
He disappeared around the corner. Jui stood there feeling stupid. He reappeared. “I think we're out. They'll just have to live with it.”
“It’s an extra charge. Are you sure we’re out?” She tried to figure out how to explain this to him quickly and not waste any more time than she already had. “It's an allergy thing. They literally can't have the regular bun," she said. “Can make sure?”
“I don't have time to fix it, just run it,” he said.
A towering shadow behind her, “What's the problem?”
Oh. No.
“Sir, Hector is asking me to run an incorrect order,” Jui said.
“What's wrong with it?” Hartman asked.
“Nothin'!” Hector threw down a rag, flicking his hands at the dish as if to shoo a fly.
Jui held her ground, hands sweating around her serving tray, “It's on a regular bun. Needs to be gluten-free.”
Hartman sighed and held his thumb to his knitted brow, “Look, Jui. Take a look around. We're busy. They're not gonna know the difference. Just run it.” The man turned and slinked back into his office.
Jui looked at Hector. He flicked a glance at her and just kept on working. She took her tray and the gluten-ful burger against her better judgment.
“Hey, waitress!” a growl floated over the crowd. Jui hustled over to the voice. She saw him across the room. Big guy, definitely a trucker. He wore a sour face twisted into a frown, arms folded.
“Yes, sir,” Jui said. “What can I do for you?” *smile* *smile*
“Where the hell's my food?” he said, clicking his tobacco-laced tongue.
Gosh, I don't know, you just ordered five minutes ago.
“I'm so sorry for the wait, I'll go check on that for you,” she said..
She turned heel, remembering she's still carting around exactly not what she was supposed to be delivering and deposited it at the destination table.
...was it five minutes ago?
She began to ache from doing this kind of thing again. This isn't even a preference thing, it's a medical thing. Yet, she had to do it anyway. Nice how that worked out.
Was it a big deal? Maybe I input the order wrong.
“So sorry for the wait,” she smiled.
The woman sat there with her daughter and wore the same expression as the side-chewing trucker. “It's been over twenty minutes!” She leaned in at Jui. “How long does it take to make a burger?”
She couldn't make eye-contact anymore. “I'm so sorry.” For at least two things.
The little girl looked up from coloring her menu. “Is my food here?”
“Yes, where's the rest of it?” the woman said.
Three.
When the bun issue came up, Jui had forgotten the other half of the order. Did she even put it in? She couldn't remember. She turned to the girl, “I'm so sorry, it's coming, I promise.”
Hopefully, she hadn't lied. She checked her other tables and bounced back to the kitchen window, “Um, hey, Hector. Did we have a kids' chicken nuggets coming?” Jui looked up and, yes, she did put it in. I'm just stupid and forgot.
He stuck a finger at her, “It's coming.”
She shriveled down behind her tray, keeping it in front of her like a shield. Her back to the window, a tight grip on her tray, she stood there like an idiot with nothing to do but pester the customers she had just talked to or get in trouble for not doing exactly that. She hadn’t decided which was worse.
“Oh, hey, try it on her.”
Those two guys again.
“Man, shut the fuck up.”
“Heh heh. Hey, kid. My friend thinks you’re sexy. Wanna have a drink with us?”
“I said shut the fuck up. Jesus.”
Jui sweated and flushed and she hoped not in the way he was fishing for. Barely seven o'clock and there already was someone rosy-cheeked. Where was Aaron? Why hadn't he cut him off? . . .
Where is goddamn anybody?
“See, my friend here thought it’d be great if you would grace us with your–ah–company, or some shit. Whatever you call it.," he said. His eyes were wet and bloodshot, floating over a flopped grin showing far too many teeth. “Know what I mean?”
Jui worried her tray might crack. “Sorry, sir, I can't. I'm working right now.”
His expression dropped. “You don't look like you're working.”
Her thumbs are squeezing the blood out of each other. What else could she do?
SLAM! “Jui!”
Her back arched. She was clenching and on her tiptoes before she knew what happened. The whites of her eyes burned dry.
“In my office, please. Now,” Hartman said as he retreated back through the door.
Jui's legs were already moving. Quickly–automatically–through the soreness and pain. She walked down the cramped, short hallway towards the back of the building. Too short. Her head was down, but it didn't help.
No time to think.
No time to hear the order bell ring.
The door closed behind her and the whole life of the restaurant died with it. She was cold, the air conditioning breathing down her neck. Her sweat evaporated and with it the last of her courage.
“Sit down,” he said.
She did.
The office was gray and shades of monochrome from the many security feeds behind the desk ate away any color in the room. Fluorescents laughed.
“Jui, we need to talk about your attitude,” he said.
She said nothing.
He continued. “Just today, I notice you don't feel it necessary to call back when I leave you a voice mail. I know you received it.”
She said nothing.
“It's just a common courtesy. Is it really so hard to return a call?”
She said nothing.
“Is it?”
“No, sir.”
“No. It isn't." He shifted, looking directly at her. "And you obviously know how to use your phone since I caught you texting just a short while ago.”
Jui opened her mouth, “I wasn't—”
“It doesn't matter." he said. "Work time is for work, not your phone. It's laziness, plain and simple. You're being lazy, Jui.”
She tried to reply, but said nothing.
“Then I see you dragging your feet to run an order when we're too busy to afford wasting time. And just now—” He pointed to his security screens, the one in front of the pickup window in particular. “—I see you standing around, doing nothing. Is there something else you'd rather be doing?”
Literally anything else.
“...No, sir,” she said.
He leaned back and threw his gaze at the security feed, “Because I don't have to keep you on.”
Her lungs shriveled.
“Listen, Jui. You need to work harder. Or I can't keep you here. Got it?” He looked her in the eye. Pale blue irises and graying sclera.
Jui said nothing. She couldn't say anything.
He huffed, “Well?”
“Yes sir.” Her voice cracked.
The man stood up and dusted something from his shirt. “Good. Go on and get back out there.” He smiled at her.
She couldn't look. She left, trying to close the door as swiftly and softly as possible. Jui ripped the tears from her eyes— her makeup would run.
It’s fine.
“Okay, okay,” she said, away from listening ears. She pulled herself together. “Try harder. Work harder. I can do this. I got this. I'm a survivor. Let's go.”
She saw the chicken nuggets in a papered red basket basking in the warming lamp of the kitchen window. She rushed like the wind.
“Thanks, Hector!” she called and swooped over to Table #4. She weaved past the crowded booths and squeezed through the tables and chairs. She nearly bumped into Aaron but he saw her. Close call.
Try harder. Let's go.
She arrived at Table #4, the woman and her daughter's table. A BBQ-Ranch burger on a gluten-free bun and a kid's basket of nuggets and fries, served as best as she could.
And they were gone.
The check was still there, signed and paid.
Smeared with a permanent marker over all of it was: 'VOID'. Tip: $0.00. She flipped it over. Curled handwriting in blue. “Unacceptable. Wrong bun, bad service. Lazy server.”
… … … … … …
… … … … … …
Jui didn’t know what was going through her head. She was stuck. The gears jammed on each other. Friction smoke. Her higher mind screamed: MOVE! She held that shaving of paper with those particular addenda, it neither stung nor sunk. Her eyes grew distant; unfocused. Everything sped in motionlessness and her mind flooded with something terrible. Hot blood melted the ice. The machine sputtered. Sparks…
A hand clapped onto her shoulder, “C’mon, kid. Just hang out with us for a minute.”
…and then the flame.
That man… he reeked, not of booze, but of something else. A wrongness, brokenness. Something long turned stale from neglect. He breathed hard and sweaty.
No. It was her.
“What, did you get fired?”
Jui did not smile…
….and she gave no warning.
Her vision was gone for a moment. Memory jumped forward. She first felt the hardness of her own face, crunched in an unfamiliar configuration. Spittle fell from her grit teeth and it was then she noticed the acute ache of her fist, clenched and cracked. Bloodied. The black fades and she remembered the hardness of his face. The softness of his eye.
She stood over him, glancing at her knuckles, bruising fast. The man, not whimpering or moving, but firmly clutching a hand to right eye, blood running. The house was silent, all eyes on her.
Jui became a wild storm caught in immovable stone.
SLAM! “What the hell is going on out here?!” Hartman approached.
She needn't glance. Needn't blink. Jui left.
In all haste, she left.
***
The night hadn't cooled yet. The darkness was getting heavier and Jui was stumbling over curb stops and oil spots. Her vision was blurry. She followed her way out into the road, semis blowing past and trembling the air.
There was a tinkling crunch of something like glass under her shoes before she saw it. Red bits of plastic scattered on the ground illuminated with each passing vehicle.
Under the spotlight of the streetlights, her car's back light was crunched in. The engine had wept its last from the impact and the rear tires had burned on the road from the smell of it.
The girl felt very small and her legs wobbled. Red plastic stabbed into her knees. Shuddering. She let out a single angry scream.
I'm done.
I'm just so done.
She didn't have time for crying. She didn't want time to cry. The air was hot, her cheeks with streaks of fire. She kicked the car, what was left of it—kicking, kicking—and trudged right on past it.
Thunderous gusts from freightliners rumbled through her. She almost didn't care if she wandered in their way. Would make planning for the future a whole lot easier than whatever the hell she had been doing with her life.
The long gray road curved around the forested mountains and didn’t feel her feet moving away. They took her to the grasses, over the blond brush and tangled snare. The moon was leaving just as she began the walk among the truest dark with the chirping of crickets surrounding her.
A deep bellow and the trees roared to life like an audience's whisper. The breeze brought on a chill and Jui did not feel it.
Her shoes kept beating against the dirt. She couldn't see, couldn't think. She came up to the treeline, close enough to touch the trunk of a tree. Jui slipped her phone from her pocket and tapped the flashlight on.
There was a void beyond the tree and its siblings, an abyss filled with a darkness that couldn't be touched. Light passed between the branches and stems, but the darkness swallowed it whole. Her feet kept moving, over roots and burrows. The pain in her shoes filled with the wet of the mossy floor.
In here, no one would see her, no one would care what she did. She conceded to sobbing, louder and louder. She hadn't let herself do this since she was small. Her belly tensed and released. It was awful.
The woods enveloped her. Darkness guided her. Terrain rose and fell and yet her feet knew how to catch her. The air was clearing between these trees. Snapping of twigs and breaking of ground. Jui walked.
She walked.
She walked.
She walked.
Her hand felt for wall. A gentle trunk came to meet her. She fell into its roots and let them cradle her. She cried to herself and let the forest cool her on that warm, summer night.
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