Chapter 11Alice

  Maynard James Keenan’s grip on my hand is like a vice, dragging me toward The Folded Corner.

  “I know the pieces fit, Brooke!” The bassline kicks in when he speaks

  Drums and guitar join the bassline in the background.

  The sea of asphalt swirls and stretches before compressing and settling into the width of a single parking space. Bursting from Maynard’s grip, I leap over the toiling sea of bckened tar and stone. Gray sidewalk scrapes my back as I tuck into a roll.

  A thunderous boom echoes from behind me. Across the bck sea, two robotic arms burst out of CrunchBucks, hands made of paper cups and bear cws press their form into the ground which cracks and gives way like a volcano as the store rises.

  “You’re gonna be te. You’ll never make Manager if you’re te.” Words rip from the front fascia of the CrunchBucks as it cws its way after me.

  “That’s not what I want! I never wanted that!” The words come out as a dull mumble, I feel the vibration in my throat but hear no sound.

  Rising to my feet with my heart beating, I throw myself to the doors of The Folded Corner. Bright light soaks through the gss, window chalk marks the gss with various sales. One in particur invades my vision with a hot pink glow ‘Sanctuary 50% off!’ My breath is kicked from my lungs when the sidewalk beneath my feet flips me into the gss and presses against my back.

  Pressure. Pressure. Pressure.

  Gss shatters around me.

  The Folded Corner’s main foyer is an empty husk, inky bck drips from the walls like venom. Endless void, eyes impossible to focus on. I’m being watched. They see me. They will leave.

  Light.

  Soft light in the distance, growing more intense with each step. Tentative shuffles turn to assured strides turn to the sps of a full sprint with the cadence of drumsticks in a drumline. Pain builds in my bones like a pressure cooker with every step toward the light.

  I can’t stop.

  The light finally fshes a little brighter after hours of running, I’m finally getting closer. Just a little more.

  The drumline comes to a disconcerting silence when my feet nd at the edge of the light, leaving my heartbeat as the lone soundtrack. Too fast, too hard, too loud. It grows louder and louder and faster and faster. Pressure builds in my bones until my body feels like it’s going to explode, rapid fire beats fill my ears as my vision clouds.

  I am pulled into the light, one unsteady foot nding on the bright circle in front of me. Bones calm and beat steadies, eyes open and mouth closes.

  Thunder cps like a nuclear bomb, my vision wobbles and distorts under the booming pressure wave. Two hands, warm and soft, reach from behind my head and nd like blindfolds over my eyes. It’s quiet. The scent of warm vanil fills the air, my heart beat stops.

  Denim scuffs against denim, hands pull my hips down, my knees nd on the cushion on either side of her hips. Warmth in front of me, fairy-like hair brushes against my face. A breeze blows across my lips a few times, damp and warm, unfamiliar. The hands covering my eyes slide down my face and nd on my thighs with a firm smack. I can’t open my eyes.

  I can’t look.

  I won’t look.

  I don’t deserve to look.

  Fingers trace soft circles onto my legs like a needle on the groove of a record, patient and smooth. That soft giggle reverberates through the room as the light dances across my skin. The breeze-not-breeze intensifies, though it’s cut short by the taste of vanil.

  My world fshes white. Bnk and silent. Empty of all things except the taste of vanil that I greedily accept like it’s the only thing I’ll ever want to taste again.

  More

  More

  Please

  The kiss breaks as quick as it started, my eyes finally open and I’m met with a smile that could fracture heaven. Casey’s lips move, I know what they’re saying, no sound comes out. My muscles tighten as I lean forward, trying to kiss her again. No matter how far I lean, my lips don’t reach hers, like magnets pushing each other apart. I lean and lean, and then I fall.

  “Be the glue, not the bull” the words ring out like a trumpet while I fall into the void, my eyes track Casey until the void consumes me.

  Chapter 11.bWondernd

  The taste of vanil fades as the morning sun pierces my eyelids. The weight on my chest shifts and changes….and meows.

  Felix ys atop my chest like the great sphynx, eyeing me with the contempt of a thousand unfed cats. I’m sorry for not worshipping you, oh prince Felix, spare me!

  Sheets tangle around my legs like shackles, gently tempting me to sleep in, to hide from the world. To go back to my dream.

  Be the glue.

  A huff and a kick sends me onto my side, Felix scampers out of my room, the sleepy daze makes it difficult but I manage to pull on my bck jeans and tee shirt without incident. Jewelry jingles to its pce and my apron constricts my waist like a corporate uniform- that’s exactly what it is.

  Birds tweet beyond the window as the smell of toast greets my nostrils, that means mom is off today. A few pats on my cheeks to wake myself up and I unch myself down the stairs and into the kitchen. Orange juice, bagel, road.

  “My my, you’re up awfully early.” My mom says in faux surprise behind her coffee cup, steam licks across her gsses

  “Yeah. Felix woke me up.”

  The rattle-scrape of cat food calls the attention of my feline companion when the rge container slides off the shelf. I lean over, haphazardly dumping an indiscriminate amount of kibble, mostly, into his dish before snapping the container closed and returning to my whirlwind of preparation.

  “Who’s Casey?” She asks from behind me.

  My hands slip on the fridge handle momentarily before I pour myself some orange juice, keeping my back to mom.

  “Whomst are thou’ speaketh of?” I reply with my pretend royal accent.

  “You were shouting it this morning. You said ‘Casey don’t leave’ and stuff like that before you came downstairs.”

  “Nah, I don’t think I did.”

  “Is Casey that friend that had you so upset the other day when I came by CrunchBucks?”

  “No… I gotta get going. Love you mom, bye”

  “You don’t have to go in for two hours, what-“ she groans into her coffee “as long as it’s not drugs, I don’t care”

  “I’m not doing drugs!” I shout as I bounce on one leg pulling my boots on like an uncoordinated suit up scene “I’m just trying to go to work!”

  Wind catches the door and rips the brass knob from my hand, smming the door shut, rattling the whole house. I quickly open the door again and poke my head in, mom is already on her feet, caught sprinting to the door to yell at me.

  Fear shakes me almost as hard as the door shook the house.

  “The furious wind spirits tooketh….the door from my grasp and smmed… I didn’t mean to.” I say shyly before closing the door again and running to the street.

  Images from my dream invade every corner of my mind as I walk. Cigarettes do nothing to dissuade the active archiving that’s happening. She tasted so sweet. Felt so warm. Felt safe.

  My cheeks rise to a toasted warmth as I repy the dream in my mind for the umpteenth time. The road fades into a gradient of grays as my feet guide me, before I know it I’m approaching CrunchBucks. I can’t help but double check and make sure it doesn’t grow arms and legs as I walk through the front door. The steel handle of the door is much colder than I’m used to this early.

  “What are you doing here? Did hell freeze over?” A shocked but happy excmation comes from one of the corner tables.

  “Tara, I’m gonna make some coffee and grab a bear cw, I ain’t actually here to work yet.” I say as I head to the back.

  “You’re not on the clock, stay out from behind the counter!” Tara says while jogging over “did you forget about the cameras corporate installed st year? What do you want?”

  “A Casey special.” I say quietly, suddenly my apron seems particurly interesting so I keep my eyes down. “Don’t forget, only a little caramel syrup”

  My fingers toy with the hem of my apron as Tara mixes the diabetic bomb for me. The fabric feels worn, I’m probably due for a new one soon- thunk.

  “I don’t think she gets to work this early, idiot.” She emphasizes the insult with a sp of the pastry bag to my cheek which I let slide, for now.

  The paper bag crinkles in my hand, the cup’s condensation dampens my dry fingers as the cold creeps into my palm. The walk to The Folded Corner is much longer than it was in my dream, it’s also a little easier without the threat of becoming a manager.

  My heart skips a beat when I get close to the entrance of the book store. The bright pink window chalk is on the gss just like in my dream, this time however instead of offering Salvation, it offers Harry Potter at fifty percent off. I take a deep breath and enter the store with that trademark wheeze from the door.

  The air conditioning is the first sensation to assault me, the second is a sense of dread, the third and final feeling is eyes. I keep mine on the floor while I feel what I assume is judgement from the area Brian is likely setting up for the morning rush.

  I scurry over to the checkout counter and set four napkins down, the strawberry sugarbomb coffee on top, and I gently set the white paper bag on the keyboard. A couple steps backwards to make sure it looks nice. Brooke, it’s a bag and a cup. My eyes trace over a cup of pens and I frantically step forward and write a short note on the bag before my hands start shaking too much.

  Hey, gremlin.

  Have a sweet day.

  :)

  My blush returns as I drop the pen back to its home with the others.

  “I want to apologize,” Brian says from behind me, causing me to jump what feels like ten feet in the air.

  “Fuck, dude. I don’t accept your apology for sneaking up on me”

  “No, the other thing. Asking if you two were girlfriends. I f-“

  “Stop, Brian. I fucked up. Big time. It wasn’t you…how is she?” I cut him off before he lets out anymore

  “She’s uh,” he scratches his neck, I assume it’s him thinking of a lie “she’s doing alright, more embarrassed than anything I think.”

  “Are you being honest?”

  “No…she-“ a deep sigh “she’s not doin great. She misses you, she hates me, but she’s also a little terrified of you.” He looks genuinely remorseful

  She’s terrified of me. My stomach knots in on itself and I taste bile in the back of my throat.

  “Brian I swear to god man, this ain’t on you. I’m the one that said no so fast.” I admit quietly

  The coarse edges of my two remaining rings bringing me at least a little distraction clink together lightly as we talk

  “I really miss seeing her. Do you think I can fix this?” I ask even quieter

  “I’m sure Casey’ll come around.” He says in an entirely unsure tone.

  I take what I can get. I wave goodbye and bolt from the store before I start to cry again.

  I roll back into CrunchBucks with the energy of a slug and the vibe to match. Tara’s eyes follow me eagerly as I softly stomp my way to the punch clock. Tap tap tap. I am officially clocked-in one hour early for the first time in my barista career.

  “I’m so proud of you, boo.” Screams Tara as she runs over to me in a way that is far too bouncy.

  A weight crushes down on my shoulders and I turn to face Tara. She seems to flinch when she looks at me straight on. How pathetic must I look- there’s a hard pinch on my arm, ending that thought faster than it began.

  “No internal pity parties, idiot!” She shouts in my face

  “I wasn’t”

  “Yes you were, idiot!”

  “Stop being mean to me, Brian just told me Casey is ‘terrified’ of me”

  “Yeah? That’s because you’re an asshole.”

  My lip quivers and I nod in agreement. She’s right.

  “Quit pouting, you’re coming to my house tonight. We are gonna have a girls night just like we used to,” it comes across as more of a command than any kind of request “Except this time, we aren’t breaking the w when we get drunk!”

  Tara looks like she’s trying to have enough good vibes for the both of us, it would be believable if it weren’t for that massive vein popping out of her forehead.

  SgathaChristie