by J P Anderson
"Hobo monotony wants food. Does the nice girl have food for hobo monotony?" The hobo asked holding out his hands.
"No, the nice girl does not have food for hobo monotony." she looked at his little cardboard box. All he had to his name was: an oversized green jacked and ripped jeans with some sort of black socks underneath. "Aw jeez, just don't use it for drugs!" She said and threw a twenty at him. She ran to Fifth Street Adoption Agency and ran up the stairs and into the fifth door to the left and slammed the door. She slowly slid her back down the door with her eyes firmly closed. Her free hand still firmly clutched to the rusted door handle. She opened her eyes after many minutes of deep breathing, opened the paper bag and began to count. Three hundred and forty seven dollar and seventy two cents, a Mountain Dew, and a Moon Pie, not even worth it, she thought. Bats screeched from her bed. My phone, she thought. She walked to her bunk bed and scampered up the stairs in her boots and collapses on the uncomfortable mattress. She got her black messenger bag and put the money into it, along with the remainder of her wardrobe and got out her phone.
"Yello?" she answered. She took her favorite three books and stuffed them in there as well.
"Hey Babe," Peter yelled, cars whooshing in the background.
"Hey Pete" she yelled to make sure he could hear her over the noise.
"Listen I got some, interesting news I wanna lay on ya." That's not good, she thought.
"What?" she asked in a threatening tone.
"It's a secret; meet me at, Cayla's Cafe in thirty minutes. Taxi!" she heard him say in a muffled tone.
"Alright." she realized as soon as he had first spoken what he was going to do, but she was going to beat him to it. She pressed end and threw her phone into her bag. A picture of Peter and her smiling as Peter kissed her cheek taunted her from the shelf. She grabbed it and threw it at the wall, the glass shattered.
"Crap, sorry Jamie."
"It's okay." she could faintly hear from the other side of the wall. I shouldn't be mad, I should be happy. We aren't even a couple, friends grow apart all the time, and I had more than my share of time with him. This is a good thing. You will always be best friends. This is a good thing; she thought over and over.
"This is a good thing," she whispered.
She grabbed her journal off the otherwise naked shelf and tore out a page, got her ex-roommate Sydney's (who had been adopted in the middle of last month by a woman from Wyoming with far too many cats) Hello Kitty bobble head pen she had unknowingly left under the bed and started to write.
Dear Ms. Crumm,
Thank you for all your hospitality over the past eighteen years but I will not be in need of it any longer. The new residence of this room can have my stereo and whatever else he or she wants of my belongings. I wish you all the happiness in the world. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a family.
Much love,
Genevieve X
A tear fell onto the page but she angrily wiped away the rest. She folded the letter with love and jumped onto the ground from the edge of her bed. Ms. Crumm walked into her room with bed sheets. Gen smiled as she crossed her hands behind her back and tossed the note onto Sydney's bare bed.
"I thought I saw a black blur dash up the stairs." she reached into the huge front pocket of her dress.
"Here, someone wanted me to give this to you." Genevieve looked up at her, a look of uncertainty in her eyes. She took it hesitantly and stepped back.
"What is it?" Gen asked.
"It was in your little blanket when that man brought you in."
"You still can't remember what he looked like?" Gen asked for perhaps the hundredth time in her life.
"I told you. It was too long ago. Too many people to remember what each one looks like. Sorry Genevieve." she seemed to whisper. Gen was hardly paying attention to her existence. She had put all her attention into examining the letter while Ms. Crumm's eyes were on Gen's newest drawings. The elderly lady dropped the linens straight on the floor and slowly walked to Gen's bulletin board, as if in a trance. She felt the picture, moving her fingers delicately over the man with no name's eyes. "Alister," she whispered so faintly Genevieve could hardly make out what had been said.
"Do you like them? I drew them myself." Gen asked hesitantly. looked at Acruz and traced her sharp withered finger over his lips.
"Where did you get the ideas for such detail?" she asked still tracing each inch of the two men.
"A dream, truth be told. I've talked to you about this before, my party the guy dancing with me. I ask his name, I wake up. Well tonight was different, he finally told me his name." Gen answered, standing to face the woman who was gawking at figments of Gen's imagination. Genevieve walked over and put her hand on Ms. Crumm's shoulder.
"It's Acruz, Ms. Crumm are you okay?" Ms. Crumm was crying, or was about to and as Acruz's name escaped Gen's lips in only seemed to bring upon a new wave of tears and gasps. The woman turned too quickly away from Genevieve.
"Have a good day," The older lady choked in a voice far too young and left without letting Gen see her face again.
She was gone. Her last chance to tell her she was a really great person, she meant a lot to her, or thank her for the room all these years and she let her leave without a word to the subject. Genevieve bent down and picked up the linens and threw them on Sydney's vacant bed. Genevieve sat down on the floor, feeling like dirt, next to where the linen's had been dropped and looked at the ancient textured almost tapestry looking envelop that read 'Open when Eighteen'. Gen turned it over; it was unopened, which quite frankly surprised her. She put her thumb under edge and ripped it open. Inside was a folded parchment of the same texture as the envelope. She unfolded it and started to read.
Dear Genevieve,
My name is Alison and I'm your mother.
Her jaw dropped, but she read on.
I know I just dropped the mom bomb. I assure you that the drama is necessary. I know that the person I assigned to take care of you is wonderful and that you are probably a lot happier than you ever would have been with a silly 19 year old girl. I might be many things but a responsible mother has never been one of them. I digress. I'm going to be blunt. I'm dead if you're reading this. I've been dead. Sad, I know, but you'll get over it. I hope now that at my age you have made better choices than I have. I would, being the coward that I am, just leave you with that but I know I would never live it down with Acruz or anyone else that reads this letter. My parents address is at the bottom of this sheet of paper. But there is a reason I ran away. Do not expect a picture perfect family reunion. I love you Genevieve. Keep moving on. Home awaits you.
Much love,
Alison Alexandria Baker
P.S. This is Acruz, to open the locket Alison gave you, whisper Grave into in and kiss the lock.
Gen stared at the paper in utter shock for approximately a minute and a half before breathing out, and another minute or so to stop shaking. "Holy shit." she whispered as she touched the locket she wore almost every day. Genevieve took it off and did as Acruz said and it opened. Her mind raced when the lock clicked open.
How many times have I tried to open that damn locket, how many utensils have I shamelessly ruined in the pursuit of opening the damn thing? Acruz, he was in the letter twice, is he my father? It seemed logical, he knew how to open Alison's locket and he said he would meet me soon in my dream. That's just a dream, her inner voice commented. She imaged her inner voice being blowtorched. Silly inner voice. Acruz must be my father, maybe Alison's parents know where he is. I must meet them, now. Gen looked at the locket, examining its content. Genevieve saw herself. But it wasn't her. The girl in the picture had blonde spiral curls and blue eyes and almost no makeup but pink eye-shadow. Gen's hair is naturally black and her eyes are olive green. Gen smiled at the keepsake and snapped it closed. She clasped it back on and let it fall back on her chest. Gen stuffed the letter and address in her pocket and went to her dresser and caught a glimpse at herself in the mirror. Her face was i
vory, her black hair in a ponytail with bangs that went to her eyebrows. Her (running) eyeliner made her almost emerald eyes seem alive and on fire. Her red lipstick had been worn away on the top of the Mountain Dew. Gen retreated from her reflection and focused on the task at hand. She scooped all of her makeup and stuffed into the already over stuffed bag. Gen walked to her picture board. She ripped off and folded both pictures individually and put them into her pocket. She thought about her outfit. She was mostly dressing up for her birthday and she defiantly didn't want to wear this all day. She went into her bag and got out her green cammo pants with a million beautiful pockets and took off her skirt and fishnets and shoes and jumped up and down, yanking the loose pants on. She grabbed a pair of white keyboard suspenders and latched them on, stuffing the skirt and fishnets into her bag.
"Presto, from whore to bum in less than 60 seconds, hold applause please." Gen bowed and pretended to fan herself to keep from crying. She walked to the door turned around and looked at her tiny room for the last time with a different face on, one that reeked of saying goodbye.
"Keep moving on." Genevieve whispered to herself and closed the door behind her, leaving the picture of Peter and her broken on the floor behind her.
Chapter 3: Morning Ride
"Andria darling," a man sweetly cooed knocking with his bruised knuckles. "Andria, honey, get up." the man ordered, now with more force and a harder knock. "Alexandria Grave, get up!" he yelled and then looked around in either direction.
It was far too early for there to be a crowded hall, not that there were many people in these halls at all. The king was not prone to having an abundance of guests, especially not in the royal quarters. The man did not even sleep here. He had lived in this dark gilded cage for a quarter of a century and he still was not allowed to dwell in these halls too late at night. He had to tell Andria the truth before her father allowed that man to come here. He would not allow her to be betrayed like that, to be unarmed from such an attack at the heart.
He raped the door, banging and kicking and yelling. Nothing, the door did not even groan from the pressure. He tried a new approach he never did care for. "Today is the big day princess, let me in darling." the man enthused with fake cheer from the outside of a huge thick door.
No word. No sound, nothing.
"Little princess." he reached for the door knob and jiggled the handle, it was locked. He rolled his eyes.
"Screw this." he muttered and walked through the door.
The huge room was absurdly extravagant and regal. A huge king sized bed big enough for at least six people was to the left of the door with a huge armoire to the right of that. On the opposite of the door was a huge granite fire place. To the left of the door there were huge windows with window seats out looking the kingdom and then the ocean. The window seats were covered in leather bound books that had fond memories reading to little Andria about monsters and princesses finding their Prince Charming. Then he realized she was no longer a little girl. She was getting married in two days, to a man two times her age just to have peace with Ranicus. He slowly walked to her bed and crouched by her bed side.
There she slept. All the same features as Genevieve. Same eyes, dark green, same nose, lips, ears, chin. The only thing from making them clones is their hair. Andria's was long, silky black curls and Genevieve's was a shorter, straighter black. They were obviously twins. No one would doubt that. He pushed her long relaxed curls from her beautiful face and gently whispered into her ear.
"Shall we see Aldura rise one last time my dear?" Her eyes fluttered opened and a childish smiled graced her face as she nodded desperately.
"Who knows if we will ever get to do that again?" she said. Immediately she studied her own words and her smile was gone. Tears welled in her eyes, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed, grabbing for the fabric of his shirt as if she needed him close to breath.
"You," she sniffled, "have been more of a father to me than my own has," she nuzzled her head in his terracotta suit and tugged on his black tie. His strong embrace covered her but he secretly stole a glance at the door hoped no one came in and saw them hugging her in her night clothes.
"I don't want to get married. I feel like a bird that was set free then as I'm flying to freedom was captured and locked up, key thrown too far to ever reach." she cried. She wasn't one to break down. She was strong, very much like her sister. She kept her head high and feelings inside, but this man was different, he was her portal to normal. He spent countless hours explaining the world, and its many flaws. He told her about the birds and the bees and helped her though the times when her brother, who she idolized, left Akadia to travel the rest of the world.
"All we can do is what is asked of us." he said, speaking from a place of reason and perhaps too much experience. "Just think of all the people you're helping." he continued, holding her shoulders and he slowly pushed her away. He held up her chin, trying to see what was going on inside of her, by looking into her all telling emerald eyes.
"My mother picked the right man to protect me, but I refuse to believe that you believe I will believe your diplomatic garbage about helping mankind by destroying myself." she said as her face hardened as she stepped away from him. Her features changed dramatically. Her eyes went from open and happy and reserved and hard.
Her mouth straightened from an innocent beaming grin into and indecipherable smirk. He hated when she did this, it was a part of her father that she had acquired in full. The power to change your entire emotional state, at least on the outside, was very useful for royalty but very unattractive to see in a girl with such a naïve heart. To the naked eye, it seems like she had grown cold with hate, distaste or boredom, but the man knew better.
"Andria, can you not see." he said taking her waist and bringing her to his side holding out his hand to the horizon as if he were showing her the view. "Andria, the protector of witch and magical creature alike, separated my reputation, corrupted by the chatter of nobodies. She, you, brought him back, to the light, to the world. Peace, happiness for everyone, all thanks to you, all because of you." he pitched, and it was a pitch. He was with her the most, he was her mentor, teacher, father, friend, and let's face it, the only opinion that mattered to Andria.
"Yes, because I gave my life away!" she screamed, clenching her hands in rage on his jacket her eyes turning red with infuriation.
"Andria, calm" She shook and gasped in breath then released, breathing out and blinking away the rage from her eyes and down her cheeks to the dusty wooden floorboards.
"By doing what must be done to keep the peace." he answered soberly.
"What if I hate him? What if that? What if he is one of those intolerable men who think all women are illiterate tools?" The man thought back to the days before Alison and couldn't help but smile, when he thought of the man on the side of the road with his thumb out, that was now about to marry Andria. "I'll die. I'll simply die." Andria babbled.
She had a tendency to do that, go on seemingly never ending tangents about anything she could think of, the man usually just nodded and let her go on. Everyone else wouldn't listen, she needed someone to care. He couldn't withhold laughter for that one though. It's not his manner's that will kill you, he wanted to say, but he decided it wasn't worth it to scare the poor girl over his own jollies.
"Then I will come to rescue you." he cooed, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and his all telling grin off his face.
"How can you stand it?" she asked solemnly, changing the mood in a second.
"What?" he asked not quite understanding.
"Being away from your only family," That one hit home, he thought back to 18 years ago and blinked back tears.
"Paige" he whispered.
"Who else?" she said misunderstanding his mumblings for coherent sentences.
"She has her assignment and I have mine. She is where we both need her to be. She will be home soon." he said professionally, adding "sooner than you think" only in the imaginary por
tion of the conversation.
"I've never even met her."Yeah because she left the day you were born, he thought.
"Enough about our twisted lives, if we are going to see Aldura rise over Telahane were going to have to get to the ocean soon." He shook the conversation off with a shrug and stood, walking to the door, holding her warm, just out of the covers hand in his. She stopped in her tracks. He turned, when he tugged and she still wouldn't budge.
"You're forgetting one thing." she noted.
"What?" he snipped. She pointed with both hands to her clothes, or rather, lack thereof.
"Oh, well get dressed then silly! I will get the horses and meet you near the steeple." She nodded and he closed the door slowly, careful not to make a sound.
