FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Author’s Note – I would like to thank everybody who reviewed after I put this story on hold because I’m sure if it weren’t for you guys, my muse would have never found his way back to this story.
“Sign of Life”
The grandfather clock chimes upstairs letting me know it’s one in the morning. I again turn over and flop my body down into the cushions of the couch attempting to get comfortable on this old couch. Sighing, I glance around the basement and make out the vague outline of the drum set in the corner, the fridge against the wall in front of me, and the door to the outside just within my field of vision to the right. My overactive imagination keeps letting me believe that someone’s at the door. Every other minute I think I see the door start to open and I quickly look over, but as expected its closed and locked. Before I went to bed down here I must have checked the lock on the door to the outside a dozen times. My nerves are getting to me.
That’s expected of course. I don’t doubt that my father has already contacted every police station within a fifty-mile radius. I’m positive that he’s contacted all his buddies in the area and they are keeping an eye out for me. I can almost imagine my father creeping down the steps outside and trying to get in the door to the basement.
Oh jeez, stop thinking about that. Paranoia seems to be setting in. My rational mind says that the door is locked and that my father doesn’t know where Psych lives. My irrational mind says that I should have checked the lock one last time because my father has surely figured out Psych’s address and is currently lurking around his house awaiting the right moment when I am in that state between being asleep and awake. The second I doze off he’ll rush in here and take me back home. Oh god, home is the last place I want to be. Home is where I’ll most likely meet my ever-impending doom.
The grandfather clock chimes two and I’m reminded of the reason I’m sleeping on Psych’s couch and not in my own bed.
Once everybody left, Psych had made it clear that I truly was never going home again. We had sat on the couch half though the night talking about everything under the sun, but mostly about what my future contains. Tonight I had learned that Vic has a similar past to me. I would have never guessed with his cheery temperament, yet he was once an abused child. A year ago he decided that he had enough of his home life and decided to take his life into his own hands. He got a job at the local music store, hired a lawyer and worked his way into becoming an emancipated minor. A lengthy conversation between Vic and I had been shared about all the opportunities he had now and how his life has changed.
Surprisingly enough, I’m actually considering becoming an emancipated minor. I had voiced this last night and Vic suggested finding a job before even looking into becoming emancipated. Something within me sighed with relief the moment I mentally decided to do this, yet there’s still this band of anxiety constricting my heart.
The moon finally disappears from my sight and I restlessly shift my body into a more comfortable position. With the moon hidden, there is now only a pale shaft of light coming from the window. Idly, I monitor it as it becomes paler as the morning light begins to reawaken the town. The grandfather clock upstairs strikes five in the morning by the time I finally drift off to sleep.
“Em, you need to calm down,” he informs me as we approach a series of stores encased in a strip mall.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper.
“You’re dressed in Psych’s clothes and you have one of his hoodies covering your face. Even if your father does drive by, I doubt he’ll even think you’re a girl let alone think you’re his daughter,” his rich blue eyes gaze at me wanting me to be reasonable.
“I told you I can’t help it,” again I whisper, “but I’ll try.”
A smile graces his face and I sense him groping for my hand. Redness creeps up my face as I unearth my pale hand from the long sweatshirt sleeves and find his hand. Our skin touches and an electric jolt travels up my spine. Warmth radiating from his hand calms me and I scan store windows for a help wanted sign. The further we walk, the more stores appear as houses and apartment buildings gradually turn into offices, stores and restaurants. Just as we are about to cross a street, my eye catches a bright red sign wedged within a large picture window across the street.
Michaela’s Café is this tiny coffee house in the heart of downtown Ridgemont about a mile and a half from Psych’s house. It’s a very small place so their staffing is minimal, but apparently they need a waitress.
Pushing open the door, we are ambushed by heat and the strong and rich aroma of coffee. It’s a comforting scent and I’m put at ease almost instantly.
“Good afternoon, how may I help you?”
A young girl I recognize from school steps out from behind the counter.
“Um, I was wondering about the waitress position that you need filled.”
“Oh great, we’ve been needing one for a couple of weeks now and you’re the first person to come in and ask about it.”
Shyly I thank her and find a seat at a table to fill out the application. Ryan remains at the counter as he orders coffee for the both of us.
“This place just screams you Em,” he places a Grande Mocha Cappuccino in front of me and I glance up at him confused.
“It does?”
“Yeah, I can see you working here. It’s quiet and it smells good. If you get the job, I think you’ll like it.”
Two customers stroll in and make small talk with the girl at the counter as they report to her their order. Smiling, she rings up their order and bestows upon them the wish to have a good day. Soft indie rock music fills the silent background gaps and the artwork on the walls screams out that this is the place for developing artists to hang out. The corners of my mouth turn up and I find myself agreeing with Ryan.
“I think I’ll like it too. What are you doing this afternoon?” I change the subject as I sign my name at the bottom of the application.
“We’re going to practice I think in Psych’s basement. We have another gig tomorrow night,” he slowly stirs his coffee with a spoon and gazes at me.
Somewhere between three nights ago, when we decided I’m going to emancipate myself, and today, something began to spark between Ryan and me. I find us maintaining eye contact longer than usual and more than once he’s searched for my hand to hold.
“A gig tomorrow night?” I question after bringing myself back to reality.
He nods, “Yeah, at the Red Octane.”
“Isn’t that where your last gig was?” I set my application to the side and focus my undivided attention on the shaggy haired boy sitting in front of me.
“The music manager really liked us the last time we played there and wants us to play again.”
“Really?”
Nodding excitement bursts in his face, “He said that our sound is very unique and exactly the thing he’s been looking for to change things up a little.”
“Awesome,” I say, “When does it start?”
“We’re supposed to be on stage at nine o’clock but Frankie, the music manager,” he explains, “wants us there at seven for sound check. Will you come this time?”
“I have nothing holding myself back anymore,” a genuine smile erupts on my face.
“Good,” Ryan grabs my hand as I grab my application and we deposit the empty mugs back on the counter and I return my application to the girl.
“Have a good day,” she waves at us as we exit the cafe.
Our hands find each other again as we make our way back to Psych’s house and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I find myself feeling truly happy.
Have a good one!
-Sunne
