New Beginnings: Part IV

Part IV of New Beginnings, as requested by one of my readers. You can find Part I here, Part II here, and Part III here.


He offered me a sheepish smile. “Sorry about earlier. You know, the pissy attitude and all.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Guess this whole trip is eating away at me more than I expected. First-time traveler and all.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned back. “Not a veteran of long bus trips up North?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not a veteran of any trips. Haven’t left town since we moved here back when I was three.” A distant look crossed his face, then he stuck out his hand. “Anyway, I’m Eric.”

I glanced down at his hand and shook it. “Nixie,” I introduced myself.

“Nixie?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “As in, Nikki? Nicole?”

I corrected him. “Nixie. It’s a name most people get wrong. Nixie, as in, Phoenix.”

“Rad,” he replied, “you reinventing yourself?”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Rad?”

“I’m bringing it back.”

I shrugged, then slouched back on the bench. Somehow, his being eager to talk exhausted me. It was like being around a wound-up puppy when you were used to old dogs. He sat down beside me. I rummaged through my beat-up bag and yanked out my tarot cards. I did a three-card spread for myself.

He sunk into himself, humming a melody under his breath. “You hungry?” he asked, gesturing toward a food cart. “Thinking about getting a sandwich.”

I gnawed on my lower lip. Out of nowhere, my stomach gurgled. Must be hungry. “Sure, I guess.”

Eric strolled over to the food cart with a sloping sort of confidence, the nonchalance of a kid who didn’t care much about anything. It was in his walk that I realized this guy could actually be a powerful weapon to have in my arsenal.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, and I definitely wouldn’t have any friends in Montreal.

He came back, small triangular cardboard boxes in each hand. He tossed one my way. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I got you a vegetarian one. Cucumbers, mayo, sprouts, I don’t know, maybe shredded carrots or something. That cool?”

I nodded. Anything sounded good in that exact moment. My phone rumbled in my bag, vibrating against some of its contents. I ignored it, some of my old nerves reawakening as I ripped open the cardboard.

Eric shoved a mouthful of egg salad into his mouth and began asking about the cards I had pulled.

I told him what each one meant, but I didn’t tell him that I saw trouble in my future.

Correction: I saw trouble in our future.

Person Holding White and Black Book

He said, “I play an instrument, and I was in a band. The band kicked me out when they realized they’d rather shoot up than play gigs. I heard you can make a killing busking out in Canada.”

“An instrument, huh?” I replied between bites. “What do you play? The mandolin? A didgeridoo?”

Eric sighed, exasperated. “I used to play drums, but I’m not bringing those on the road, so I stuck with guitar.”

Through the glass dome ceiling, a streak of lightning split the sky and thunder shook the building. The hairs on my arm rose.

It was starting.

Here.

Now.

Already.

Person in White Long Sleeve Shirt
It was starting. Here. Now. Already.

I don’t know why I thought it would wait.

To be Continued…?

New Beginnings: Part II

Part II of New Beginnings, a short story beginning here.


I was going to have a fresh start in Montreal. Going to the bus depot was just the beginning, yet fear spidered through me icicle-slow, trickling through my extremities. I didn’t know what I was going to tell my employer. How do you explain the sudden impulse to move away from everything you know and everyone you love? How do you explain a late-night tarot reading at a dimly lit bar being enough to convince you to buy a bus ticket? My manager was bound to call and demand why I wasn’t on time for my shift.

If my lover–I guess my ex-lover–called, I would just ignore the phone. Ignore it like an old, broken television set. No use burdening myself with it. I had tried to fix it. I had tried fixing it for years, but all I got was static.

I can’t even recall what I said to her in the letter. I might have made vague mentionings about discovering myself. I might have made insincere promises to return, but I begged her not to hold a lantern to every stranger’s face to compare them to my own.

My hands no longer resembled mine, and my bus ticket was growing limp from the sweat that slicked its surface.

Did a runaway ever look beautiful?

I pictured Vee, my lovely Vee, if she was planning to run, she’d wear her black sneakers, the ones with the hidden lyrics – black on black, but there if you looked closely enough. She’d wear a short, white mink coat, the one she saved for special occasions, a ratty band shirt, and a pair of cigarette jeans.

She’d look cool.

Chic.

I looked like a kid going to Grandma’s house. Over the river and through the woods.

I was so lost in a labyrinth of thoughts that I did not notice him sit down next to me. He was a boy my age. Maybe a couple of years older. My skin tingled in a way I could not identify when he brushed up against me. It was like electricity or dope. He drummed a rhythm against his thigh. When his quicksilver eyes flicked in my direction, I could not breathe.

“I pictured Vee, my lovely Vee, if she was planning to run, she’d wear her black sneakers, the ones with the hidden lyrics…”

He had struck me and rendered me stupid.

Who was he, and did he feel this gravitational pull?

It wasn’t love, and Christ, it wasn’t lust, but those golden spokes, Saturn’s rings, webbed his ocean aquamarine eyes and hypnotized me. Neither of us said a word to one another. Suddenly, a sturdy military jacket with worn elbows seemed cliché.

A mere suggestion of cool.

I tucked my twisting hands into a pair of fingerless gloves and brushed my tongue ring against the roof of my mouth, clicking it with my teeth.

He stared at me, his eyes cool metal. “Could you not?” he asked, a brusque edge to the words and his voice huskier than I imagined. Who did he think he was? This, the same boy who was tapping out a drum solo on his thigh. I nodded, not trusting myself with language.

This was the beginning of something new. I had a future waiting for me: something I never envisioned before.

New Beginnings: Part I

It was time. I bit the bullet until all I could taste was metal, but maybe that was the rust in my mouth from my teeth serrating my tongue. I have a duffle bag packed. Who knew my whole life could fit in a bag? The clothes were nothing, but packing away my crystals and tarot cards, that was when my eyes began to grow wet and puffy. I snatched my favorite photograph off the clothesline it hung from. The room began to tilt as though I had just gotten off a carousel.

I was doing it.

I couldn’t look back.

I had slipped a note inside of her favorite book so she’d see it before she settled in for the night. It was like pressing dried flowers between the pages. I put another note on the leftover Pad Thai she’d reheat when she got home from her shift at the hospital. I kept fidgeting with the ring she had bought me last year for my birthday. My legs were restless as I sat at the bus stop.

All these people coming and going, and I still felt alone.

“The terminal grew quiet, and I could have sworn I heard her whisper my name.”

My lips were dry but tasted of fear. I did not know how to cry, but my heart drummed like it was sore. I didn’t know anyone in Montreal, but that was the point.

The terminal grew quiet, and I could have sworn I heard her whisper my name. It was like a pair of butterfly wings fluttering together. Her lips buzzed with the familiar sound, and I turned my head at the sound. A ladybug sat on my shoulder, its antennae twitching like it was sending telegraphs, using wires and needles. I never felt at home in my own skin, but today, my body was a map, the veins riddled with roads.

“All these people coming and going, and I still felt alone.”

Stay tuned! On Saturday, July 10th, I will post Part II