Strangers

I don't know you anymore

You used to be so close to me

But now you're rotten to the core

And I don't know how to be

Around you

Come back

XXX

Davey felt strange this morning, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong.

A number of things, really. He had been dreaming, of course, about Davey Jr. He couldn't remember what happened in the dream, only that they were calm and happy. Annie was with them too, her presence warm like rays of sunshine. 

Maybe she was a part of the strange feeling, too. She had slipped out of bed at eight thirty, thinking he was still asleep. He had listened to her make breakfast and turn on the shower, speak to their guest and finally, leave the house and start the car. Where had she gone? There was probably a note in the kitchen.

Davey rolled over into the divot in the mattress where her body belonged. It smelled of her sleep, of her sweat. Last night, they had come to bed together, but when Davey reached for her under the covers, Annie turned away and said she was tired.

Oh, well. He couldn't expect everything to be better at the snap of his fingers. It would take some time to trust each other again.

Still, it didn't feel like they should have to. Weren't they connected, combined? Wasn't that marriage? Wasn't Annie his and wasn't he hers? He remembered what a comfort her presence used to be to him. Seeing her, talking to her, holding her seemed to still his soul in a way that nothing else could. Their days, during that first year, were mapped by little touches: a squeeze from behind before getting up in the morning, a kiss before leaving the house, a long, humming embrace at the end of the day, hands roaming in the night.

Now, though, he had to be careful when he touched her. Not in the mornings; she got cranky if he accidentally woke her up. No more of the casual hair-ruffles; she didn't like having her hair messed up. He wasn't even allowed to put his arms around her in line to order at Dunkin Donuts. It was almost like she was embarrassed to be seen with him.

Davey threw her pillow over his face and breathed in the coconutty scent of her shampoo. He wanted to cling to her right now. Why did she want to detach herself at the same moment?

XXX

Amethyst looked out the window, a deep sense of hopelessness curling up in her heart.

This was nothing like the view from the hospital. No lights, no tall buildings, no people. Rather, out of this window, Amethyst could see only the familiar landscape of her own sad neighborhood, brambles obstructing her view of the broken street and drab houses across the road. The world here was painted in a palette of cold greens and grays. Everything looked like a warning.

She sighed, letting the blinds drop back over the window. The moment she did, the room became dark again, a chamber of shadows. Welcome back, the shadows said. Welcome home.

XXX

Sophie's ears perked up as the news began to play on the TV. She took another sip of her milkshake, watching the logos flash across the screen. Ah, here were her anchors. The ones endowed with all the information in the world. The ones who seemed to know everything all the time, even though they knew next to nothing in reality.

"Good morning," said the skinny blonde woman, hr fashionable bob swinging about on her head. "Welcome to Channel fifteen news."

They talked for a bit about a stabbing that had occurred someplace in Texas. Sophie battled the thin plastic straw for the bits of Oreo stuck at the bottom of her cup. Even if she had managed to get this milkshake for free, she found great fault in this stupid straw. If they knew there were chunks of oreo in the ice cream, shouldn't they serve it with a spoon, not a straw with the diameter of a pencil?

Between not un-genuine sobs, Sophie had told the waitress that her mother had told her to come wait here while she did her shopping and that she was very scared, which, in all honesty, she was. No, she didn't know her mother's phone number. No, she didn't know her father's either. He was dead. Again, not untrue. Sophie thought that for all the sad bits of the story that were true, she one hundred percent deserved this milkshake.

That waitress was nice, but she was no Sunita. Sophie's heart seized at the thought. Oh, Jamestown Coffee Shoppe, left so far behind her. The waitress was in sight. Sophie let herself shed a tear, sipping dejectedly at the chunky shake. Sure enough, the waitress sent another piteous glance her way and, after refilling a few coffee mugs, made her way back over to Sophie's little booth.

The news anchors were on to some political scandal now, nothing Sophie cared about. She wiped away the tear before it landed in her milkshake.

"You doing alright, Honey?" the waitress asked. She had an unpleasant, honking voice that seemed to come out of her nose more than her mouth. Sophie thought she was pretty, though. Well, she had thought that, at first. Giving her a closer look, Sophie decided she was wearing far too much makeup to be anywhere near pretty.

"I'm okay," she sniffled.

A frown, a nod. "Do you think your mom'll be back soon?"

"I don't know."

"Listen, my shift is gonna be over in a few minutes, but you just stay put, alright? If you need anything, ask Karen. She's right over there, see her with the red hair? She'll get you another milkshake if you get hungry." The waitress gave her a tight, sad smile.

"Thanks," Sophie sighed.

"Now, for some good news," The male anchor was saying on the TV. "While many children remain missing, one has been returned to us."

"That's right, Andy," said the lady. A grainy, sepia-toned photo appeared on the screen: Amethyst, young and luminous with her sweet smile and halo of golden hair. The lady went on to say her name with unbearable emphasis on each syllable and list off some details about the case.

The man nodded gravely. "Unfortunately, Marilyn," he said, "Though the girl has been safely returned to her family, the kidnapper is still at large."

The waitress glanced uneasily at the screen and then at Sophie. Someone at a nearby table lifted an empty coffee cup. "Good luck to you," she said, digging a few dollar bills out of her pocket. "Get yourself some dinner."

"Thanks." Sophie watched the waitress walk away, shoulders slumped, head rolled back, long, dark hair sliding over her shoulders like spilled paint. Maybe she was pretty, after all.

XXX

The hard edge of the cardboard box dug into Annie's ribs as they waited. The Turners' house saddened her more with every minute they spent trapped outside of it. She knew of all the awful secrets hidden within the walls, but perhaps they weren't secrets at all. How could you ever, upon driving by, think that a house like this was an acceptable place for a child to grow up? Everything from the knee-height grass in the front yard to the duct-tapped knob on the screen screamed unsafe. The yard was tick heaven and the door knob was just begging little fingers to graze it and come away bleeding.

Minka stood beside her, becoming more agitated with each passing second. Poor dear, so drenched in good intentions, all ill-conceived. Her over-long hair shook like a curtain blowing in the wind as her neck spasmed with apprehension. Annelise wanted to put an arm around her shoulder and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She rang the doorbell for the third time. There was a car parked in front of the house. Someone had to be home, and she wasn't going home before she found out who.

Finally, the wooden door behind the screen shook and peeked open. There was no one standing there, though. Annie frowned, trying to see inside the house. "Hello? Libby? Is that you?"

"No."

What a sweet little syllable, a kind exhalation of relief. High and slow the voice spoke, quiet and shaking.

Minka realized it a second before Annie. Without a second thought, she threw the screen door aside and fell into the arms of her long-lost friend.

And there she was, Amethyst Turner, their lost angel, just as lovely and sad-looking as Annie remembered. Her hair was already beginning to go matted with tangles again, her clothing back to a threadbare t-shirt and nothing else. Annie's heart ached for her, that poor returning hero, brought back to a victory feast of bones and dirty plates.

Minka fell back onto the porch, her feet still in the doorway, and lifted the little girl into her lap. She was murmuring something, perhaps in Polish, and stroking Amethyst's spun gold hair. Minka's thick, heaving sobs mixed with the Amethyst's short, delicate wails. They clung to each other, mother and daughter, sisters, best friends. Annie could have cried as well.

"I missed you," Amethyst whispered. "Daddy said I couldn't see you." Her little doubtful voices rendered Annie speechless with joy. She didn't even want to be noticed in this exchange; she wished only to witness this happiness between two people, however brief.

"Nevermind that now, Kochanie," Minka said. She kissed Aimee's face, both cheeks then her forehead and her nose. "I will never let you go again."

But only a second later, she had to.

XXX

Tears clouded Amethyst's vision as she pored over her new books on her new bed with a new sadness weighing down her heart.

The bed didn't have a mattress yet, so the slats pressed painfully against her stomach and elbows while she red. She was high enough above her book that her tears slid from her cheeks onto the pages like a waterfall. The beads of water immigrated from the pages to the wooden slats whenever she turned them.

She could still feel Minka's kisses on her skin if she thought about it. She could still feel Annie's arms around her for that quick second before her father whisked her away, before he started yelling. Thinking of it, the tears came down faster. They just found you, he had screamed. Do you want to get kidnapped again? Do you? Then quit opening the door for fucking strangers!

They weren't strangers, she tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. He smelled like beer, just the way she remembered him being.

The sun was setting. Soon, she wouldn't be able to make out the words anymore. Amethyst didn't want to stop reading, though. She loved this book, the new one that Annie had slipped into the box with her old belongings. It was about a sweet little mouse named Frederick.

Until the last of the day had faded, Amethyst let the words wash over her.

Tears, tears, tears as darkness descended. She would have to be like the mouse, Amethyst decided. The world looked gray now, but she would have to find herself some colors to save for later. 

XXX

You say what you wanna say 
It's serious 
You're just afraid 
To try me on tonight 
You don't know 

I had a dream it wasn't you 

-You Don't Know by The Gromble