Rooms' Dreams (roomsdreams) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-05-26 18:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, plot: dreams |
Narrative - Reveal
It had felt like a dream, but to say when morning came and she realized it wasn't that she was surprised would be a lie. of course it wasn't, nothing in this place was ever a dream, everything was always real. And it was always a nightmare. This hadn't been terrible. Hadn't been anything. Well, a failure. A complete and utter failure.
Everything was set perfectly just like the stories her father used to tell her about the women in her family. From her father's side. Where their name came from, what it meant, such a simple word, a funny last name for a funny family. Sablier. Hourglass. Fortune tellers who wove dreams out of silk. Of course they were always run out of towns like charlatans, but her father always made it sound glamorous when she'd needed to hear beautiful stories. She'd never learned to tell the future, or weave dreams, or anything of the sort. But sometimes it helped her troubled mind as she'd grown up to think about. Calming stories about powerful women and their destinies.
Vessels that held their hearts and souls that could be broken but always put back together. It used to uplift her, and for the briefest moment in this dream world she'd been one of them, with her cracked spirit, and perfectly woven dream, ready to give it away to a stranger, because that was who she was. Proud to give it away. And still she hadn't had time to do even that before the hotel had decided all she deserved was an unfinished moment with her broken webs in the corners, and a hurried walk back to the apartment because surely Daisy would be waking soon. She hated the hotel for the times it took her away from Daisy. Never knowing if she'd make it back to her before she woke.
The apartment was empty when she entered, no sounds of crying, no scenes of trouble, even the dog remained half asleep and yawning with a stretch on Daisy's brand new toddler bed that she had taken to rather well. Evie was starting to enjoy not waking up with knees in her back and dog breath in her face. Perhaps it was going to sleep soundly, and knowing she wouldn't have to leave that had caused her dreamscape to be so gentle, sure she'd been useless at it, but she hadn't been murdered. Or murdered anyone. She hadn't been hurting, or hurt anyone. She'd even held the briefest hope that a warm smile might even heal a crack in the cup next to her. It hadn't, but it was a moment of hope. She'd forgotten what that felt like. She let Daisy sleep, and wandered back down to the kitchen to make some coffee, she knew she'd be more tired if she tried to nap, and Daisy woke her, so she'd stay up the day, and sleep through the night. She'd done it before. And would do it again. Life would go on.
She didn't see the note right away. Not until she'd sat down at the counter with a warm cup of black coffee in her hand and when she read it she wanted to cry. But didn't have tears. How could she? Where would she find them at this point? She felt bad that Clementine had fallen behind, she wished she could have done more to help, she should have done more to help. But she paid what she was asked. Hadn't she?
There was a pile of money, and she said she could stay until the place sold. But that didn't feel right. None of it felt right. It was becoming clear that every decision she made was a bad one. She wasn't fit to make any at all. Was right to second guess herself, and be afraid. She was a stupid girl who made bad choices and she was moving her kid again. Back to the motel. She had Eddie's offer still in her back pocket, but even that seemed like a bad choice, that was again relying on someone else. What if he took it back? She didn't even want to ask. Or talk to anyone. Ever again. She needed a car. Maybe if she could just get into a car and drive until it broke.
She'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere with a broken car and a two year old. That's what would happen if she got into a car and drove it until it broke.
Still she didn't cry. She sat there reading and re-reading the note taking her time, reminding herself that this wasn't all her fault. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. Maybe that was a bad choice. But if there was another, she didn't know what it had been. Eddie's offer could have gone just as badly. Maybe he'd get just as annoyed with her as Clem got with her friends. As Wren and Luke were with her. She knew they were just about done right about the time they'd skipped Daisy's birthday, even if they were sick, heart, or head sick, she knew she contributed to that. Of course they'd distance themselves. She was a mess. There was a reason they hadn't invited her to stay with them again, they'd been there done that once already.
She hadn't taken Shane's money from the house in Tuxedo Park, and she didn't know if she could in good faith stay here (what if someone came back?), and take Clementine's money. It would help. She knew it would. Maybe if she took a little bit. But Clementine didn't seem to be coming back here and she didn't want to just leave it, or be rude and send it back. But she didn't want to get mixed up in everyone's business either. She thought about sending it to Graham, maybe to get Joy something nice. He didn't have a job. But that meant she'd have to get mixed up. She also didn't feel right giving other people's money away. Shit.
She had her welfare checks sorted they would start in four weeks, she had her food stamps sorted already, she'd get the housing vouchers sorted in the next couple of days if she could and go back to the motel in the meantime. She wasn't going to be passed around anymore. Screw friends and cousin's of friends, and people she didn't know. And people she did know. And people who said everything would be fine. And great.
She didn't care where she had to live, or what she had to scrape up, or scrape by on, or how many lines she stand in, or what she had to do because the girl upstairs was the only girl left that mattered. She wasn't going to rely on anyone else. Not ever. And for once, no one was going to rely on her except that kid upstairs. Because she wove a dream and gave it to a stranger and came back to nothing. Her eyes narrowed at the thought and her belly filled with white hot anger. She pushed herself away from the table as thunder clapped and lightning flashed outside and the rainstorm started. The dog and Daisy appeared wide eyed peering over the babygate at the top of the stairs and she softened her expression. She was still mad as hell, and outside she let the storm rage. But she smiled at the bright blue eyes smiling at her. Messy hair, thumb in mouth, other hand on the dog's back. "Bonjour mam'zelle," she said and Daisy smiled around that thumb.
Before Evie moved to go up the stairs she took every last rolled up hundred dollar bill and shoved it into her pocket. Fuck it.