My battle of the scale !

What ever happened to Jane Rose? UPDATE

    Hey guys here is an update on the latest direction for the project.

Chapter three: Jane Rose still has tears to shed

In a drunken blur Brandon lead four people to a posh absinth filled Victorian club catering only to the freshest of people. He had both arms full of hot men a plenty and I was stuck with the trail of an a greasy gamer fiddling with his phone tweeting the entire night out with what I assume was a slew of retweets.  He was cloaked in a flannel shirt that only Kurt Cobain could be proud of. Not full of conversation this one. Not that I cared, to be honest I didn't really care.

I crawled into my mind sorting out the bits and pieces of my mind. Nothing seemed to be in place. Maybe I was too harsh on the idea on of love but my life is shattered from the aftermath. I remember the day Bert found out I was still alive. Conflicted, happiness and sadness danced across his face as his newest squeeze clung to his arm. I guess I never was his true love. I knew he only wait two years before moving on and burying my mother. It was the loneliness was crushing; I had no one in the world.

“I think it might be better if you go away,” his squeeze remarked to me. “I worked so hard to get him back to normal. I think this is just going to set him back. You know?” I looked at her with sad eyes. 

“I know you’ve had gone through quite an ordeal but I also know you care about Bert to give him space to.” The black haired diva eyeballed me for a moment. “Give him the time to process.”

“Process,” interesting would to use. “Process. And how exactly would you assume to ‘process’ this situation?” She smoothed back her hair and narrowed her green eyes at me.

“I have a Master’s degree in clinical psychology; I’m doing things that are best for him. I can help him react to this.”

“How do you expect him to react, exactly? Is there a class on it? A degree? A paper?”

Her mouth gaped filling with venom but I was not going to let this go any further. “I’m going to face a few facts here. You ONLY have master’s degree. I have doctors who have nearly four or five degrees and twelve years on you or whatever so called studies you do. Call me crazy but I'm fairly certain that they have a better bead on it than you.”

“If you think-”

“That’s’ all I do. My life was robbed from me. I wish you and Bert the best of happiness. I will not interfere but it would not be right to lie to the person I spend a marriage with. A marriage that was stolen from me as well.” I stepped in to her space glaring into her eyes. “If you were half the wife I was you'd be in the room him. Holding his hand,” She spat at my feet and walked away wiping her tears away. The plus side is that I’d gotten to her. The bad side; I’d vow to never see him again.

As I watched Brandon to continue to be himself, I noticed that he danced with joy and abandon. In my heart of hearts, at least he knew love and maybe one day…. Forget it. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey,” Flannel said finally looking away from his media. “You look a familiar.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Fishing a maraschino cherry out of my dwindling glass.

“But you’re soooo,” he drawled.” Familiar.”

“Tell you what, Sober up and well talk.” He smiled as if he didn’t believe me at all but I couldn’t have been more serious. I turned my attention to the fruity drink that twirled with stir I applied to it. The people around me danced like flies looking for rot. A sense of fatigue settled over me and reality had begun to settle back into its lazy boy.

The texting wonder continued fiddling with his phone. A red light on his phone blinked and I turned away. It only seemed like the world had forgotten me in all senses. Was I even alive? Was this my hell? If so, what did I do to deserve this? Maybe that was the point, in eyes I didn’t do enough. If immortality is given through the remembrance of one’s work, I was truly dead.

“So,” Mr. Flannel began. “You- uh having fun?” He kept his phone in eyes view. I set my phone on the table and crossed my legs away from the impending conversation.

“Sure I guess.”

“Sometimes but at least Marcel is having fun with-”

“Brandon.” He shifted slightly. Conversation didn’t appear to his strong suit.

“You know, you look just like some chick.” Why did I get this feeling I have had this conversation before?

“Was she at least good looking?” I remarked wryly .

“Yeah.” Well that was a good thing.

“She nice? What happened to her?”

“She was apparently very nice.”

“Apparently? Nice gum shoe work there slick. What happened to her?”

“No one really knows.” Ah, I saw where this was going. He was trying to sloppily diving into my head. Sorry Flannel, Head’s full no vacancies. “But at least she’s alive.”

“Alive, define what you believe being alive is?”

“Living and breathing.” I chuckled underneath my breath. Gotta love people who they’ve walk a mile in your heels?

“So, you know who I am?” He beamed with pride as if his google search merited a Nobel Prize. He nodded. “I thought it was you! I kept telling Marcel it had to be.”

“So you wait a whole four hours to spring this on me? That’s rude. You talk to all women this way? Or am I just this special?” I looked onward ignoring his Segway. I knew in my core that things were moving in my world. It felt like wheels upon wheel were turning above me like little watches being twisted by some sick maker who might have been intrigued by my struggle.  The impending cloud that shrouded my anniversary created this cusp in my soul. What lie in that darkness? Was ignorance better? Could I walk away and shut it down? Could I make it disappear?

No. a voice whispered. I jumped and hit the table with a jolt. “You ok?” Flannel asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “My phone is on vibrate,” I lied.

“You mean the one on the table that is clearly not vibrating?” He pointed out.

“Must have thought it was in my pocket.” His eye brow crooked in disbelief. “Whatdoya want? Shit Happens.” I grabbed my phone and opened a text.

Me:  get me out of here. This is painful.

A minute flew by like century old molasses.

Brandon: busy.

Me: Do not leave me with this asshole.

Brandon:  15 min, k?

Me: No!

Brandon:  Busy. 15.

Me: 15 min? Are you kidding what’s so important that you can’t bail? This is balls

Brandon:  getting ahead.

Me: Getting “ahead” is going back home and sleep this off!

Brandon: *head

I stopped for a moment. He had to be kidding me. Was he really texting and fucking at the same time?

Me:  Are you having sex and texting.

Brandon: N. head.

Me: Head is sex. Must not be that great if you’re texting me. Let’s go.

Brandon: 3 min.

Me: Don’t be rude. I’ll see you in 3.

Brandon: NM, 20 min.

Forget this. I’m booking. “Well it was nice to meet you,” I said standing up making it a personal note not to shake hands.  “Have a safe commute home.” I tastefully left the “let’s never see each other again” part off.

“But you’ve barely touched your beer,” He whined.

“I’m really tired; it’s been a long day.”

“I insist! I hate drinking alone.”  He groaned.  I shrugged my shoulders and sat back down because I couldn’t really argue with that one. I loathed drinking alone; it brought my thought process out in the open. Nothing was scarier than my own thoughts.

“What do you for fun around these parts?” reluctantly starting this conversation.

“I’m kind of a media buff. But mostly underground gamers,” he began. “I do a lot of beta testing.” His voice started droning to the dull hum of music. Within this new found realm of silence my mind began to drift to this morning. I woke up at 3:00 am starting at my door like it was a closet to my subconscious. I wondered what was beyond the door in the darkness. “Please,” a small voice whispered. “Please, don’t.” my eyes hyper focused as I searched the door. A light hush of a flickering TV flashed beneath the door. “You’ll make him angry.” The frightened child voice said.

“No,” I rose from the couch. Where was that voice coming from? I padded softly to the door resting my ear against the wood. “Please, PLEASE!” the voice whispered harshly. It was coming from behind the door. “I- can’t get you out,” soft sobbing met with the flickering light. My hands smoothed over the door searching to open it.

“I’m going to get you out,” my hands ran even faster over the door. Where was my knob?  My fingers ran across the bottom of the door casting shadows. I tried wiggling my fingers under the door and tried to open it from the bottom.  The sobs turned to heaving. “Shhhh- sh sh,” I whispered back to the voice. “We’re going to get out of here.” I hands felt a plastic latch on the side of the door. “I promise, I promise, I promise,” I said fumbling with a latch desperate to get out.  With a third try the latch came loose and I flew open the door only to see a plain hallway. I turned around and saw myself on the couch.

Within seconds my eyes flew open to see a closed door. I felt beads of sweat gather on body forming a luscious pool.   I felt my chest heave for a moment grateful for a reprieve. My head hurt as I sat up. What time was it I thought looking down at my clock?

“3:03 am” I snapped back to the reality of the party.

“Huh?” I asked dazed. Flannel looked confused for a second.

“You just asked what time it was.”

“Ah, yes. It seems much longer. Long day.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And you keep ignoring it. I’m tired and I’m heading home.” Without another word I walked away. I was exhausted to the core however I began to realize the damage of the past can do on a vodka soaked brain. Leaving Flannel made me feel like a monster. When I looked back at him, he was no longer playing with his phone but looking forlorn at the two beers at the table.

What made a monster anyway? Were the choices that were made or the lack of choices I could never get in that type of head space? I scratched my head as a large gust of wind hit me. The door slammed behind me as I welcomed the cool silent night. They say that the insane never actually know that they a member of the insane. Is the same said about the monsters or is it a lack of caring? I breathed in the night air and tried to think about my earlier day.

Marge’s children had all grown up and been in college for a year. I regretted not being able to see them off into that part of their lives.  We sometimes spent a better half of our day sailing down a lazy river with various deep spots and high tides with waterfalls and fountains. Nothing was ever better in the world than the perfection of water and sunshine.  We settled into our tubes and went away with the tide. A sense of fragile piece washed through me as I let my worries wash away for the moment. On the second loop I noticed a lady bug caught on the edge of the pool threatened by the waves.

I clung to the edge, stopping other people behind me. I tried to get the ladybug at least to the top. At least at the top she’d have half a chance at getting away. After getting her up, I was pushed away by the tide of people. Marge yelled, “What’s the hold up?” I swam to her.

“Never mind. Thought I saw something.” We drifted in another loop and then I saw the same lady bug again but this time she was caught in the water. I stopped again and scooped her out. This time I made sure to put her well over the edge. I sailed back on. By the next loop, the lady bug was dead. Feet standing up in the air dead as a bug nail. It was only when we drifted further on with the current.  I looked to my side and there was a grasshopper, I passed by it and grabbed marge’s ankle. “Grab that grasshopper.” She looked down confused.

“It’s alive,” she said.

“I know, grab it out of the water.” She shrugged her shoulders and scooped it out of the water. “Is it moving?”

“Yeah,” she said. I let her ankle go and we floated down the river. I silently contemplated the ideas of life and death darkening the beauty of the day.  Marge made conversation and I drifted away from my dark hallway of thought. We made another pass around the river and to my surprise, the grasshopper was still moving. On the first try, no less!

Maybe that was the point, you couldn’t really save everyone and maybe some people just wanted to let go or just die.  Which of three of was I? Why was I still alive anyway? A scrape from behind me startled me out of thought and I jumped around to see a garbage can roll into the street.I've clearly watched too many horror movies. I laughed as I continued my course and walked briskly away.

"It's no red ball," a deep whisper from the shadows crept. "But I figured it might have gotten your attention." I turned my head to see a figure of a man leaning against a brick wall.

Chapter two: Let's drink with Jane Rose

Chapter two:

A streaked reflection cast in silver stared back at me. A clump of white banana spilt ice cream spilt my image in half. “Am I broken?”

“No Sweetie,” a voice clucked behind me. “But please don’t get ice cream on my carpet. I just got it.” I turned to the voice dunking my spoon back in the carton.

“You sure Brandon? Like sure- sure?” He scoffed shaking his perfectly gelled hair. “I mean it.”

“We should put the ice cream away, you’re having sugar hallucinations.”

“A smart man doesn’t remove the ice cream.” Plucking my spoon out of the carton.

“Well lucky for you I’m gay. An awesome, male upgrade.” I laughed as he covertly snatched away. Two shot glasses were placed between us. “And don’t worry about the ice cream we can fill the empty hole you have inside with vodka.” Ice cold citrus. He plopped down on the carpet across from me.

“Brag! Brag! How goes the dating scene?”

“Same as it ever is. Hopeless.”

“Hopeless? You, sir- jest.”

“Gasp!” He exclaimed with his hand to his heart. “Love makes cowards of us all!”

“What are bitching about!?’ You fall in and out of love more than anyone I have ever met in my life.”

“When I prayed at night as a child,” I stifled a snicker to watch him go about this oh too familiar line. Hell, it was familiar when we were children. “I prayed to fall in love!”

“Oh, buddy. Did you ever get answer to your prayers.”

“Over and over again. But never true love.”

“Ah, Rinse, lather and repeat?” He nodded sadly in my direction. “It’s alright sugar tits. Doesn’t exist!” His mouth dropped and he pushed me over.

“Still your tongue, Freaky Links.”

“Never.” I said pointing at him with my glass. “You’d still believe in Santa and the Easter bunny if I hadn’t said anything.”

“You’re such a skeptic. Don’t you believe in anything?”

“Yup, the fact and just the facts. And the facts say, true love doesn’t overcome. True love doesn’t conquer, it just moves on. And that my dear is exactly what love does. It just happens to have a better PR company than sex.”

“Sex is nice.”

“-And exactly the same thing,” His face crumpled back in horror. “Tell me I’m wrong.” His face went blank as it conceded with my logic. “That’s what I thought.”

“Well,” he said pouring it a shot. “It wouldn’t be a problem, if lovers didn’t become so boring. Then Love would be-”

“-Still just as unlikely,” I finished.

“I was going to say, true.”

“In other words, you’re still in love with the idea of love but not the upkeep?”

“Bitch.”

“Hag.” We took a shot.

“Dump truck,” he spat as he poured another.

“Hump dunk.”

“What? Is that even a thing?”

“It might be,” reeling from the burn, I poured another shot. “Let’s keep drinking and play mad gabs.” Brandon let loose a peel of laughter before he kicked back another shot. For those people in the live studio audience we were up to three shots a piece.

“Glad to see that your humor survived.”

“I’m to see that you too survived but how come you aren’t…”

“Old?” Yeah, right. That’d be the day. He never aged an inch to me but maybe because I saw him through the child eyes I had when we were kids.

“Different? Like I don’t know changed somehow.”

“Because I’m a one of a kind. Classic, if you will. Old Hollywood. You’ll be a bag of dust before I even outside of twenty something.” I chuckled.

“It’s comforting,” I said pouring us another shot.

“We should change to tequila, Vodka makes you mopey.” He started to slip the bottle away and I grabbed it.

“That’s terrible idea.” I said pouring another round for a party of one. “Especially since I was mopey to begin with,” I paused, “Wait you think Tequila this will make things better?”

“Of course not! But it will make you more interesting. Maybe loosen up a little.” He stood up and began to dance with an invisible partner. “Maybe get you to tango? Yes? With a hot Latina?”

“Oh god, I’m going to need more vodka!”

“Phst- As if you needed to!” He plopped back down.

“Can’t I pretend?”

“What’s the fun in that?” I rolled my eyes. “You are fun with or without vodka.” A lull sounded between as I looked to the bottom of my glass.

“That’s what normal people do, right?”

“What?”

“Blame it on anything else but yourself.”

“Yes but weeeee,” he said dragging it out. “Are not normal people.” I was about to say something when he put up his hand to cut me off. “Normal people are boring and let’s be honest, we aren’t.”

“Why do you think that is?” He edge of his mouth ticked back and made a clicking noise.

“Head shrinkers still trying to dissect your brain?”

“How’d you guess?” We took another shot.

“Because that sentence isn’t yours. You would ask how or you ask why but never why it is how is how it is because you know…” He left the sentence abandoned in the air and pointed to me.

“There are no answers let alone easy ones.”

“You out smart this set yet?”

“Noooooo,” I said drawing my attention only to him and not to my dowdy problems. “No. I’m going to get help this time, around.”

“I call bull shit.” He said shaking his head. “Just do me a favor this time around, ok?”

“Maybe. What is it?”

“Don’t get lost in their bullshit because they can’t figure out the answer easily. It’s not your fault. Shit happens.”

“Okay but if I do get lost I can always depend on you to pull my head out of my ass.” He nodded with a huge smile on his face. The silence filled the moment as the question swelled between us. “But something like this?” I finally said.

“Stranger things have happened. You don’t have to let it define you for the rest of your life.” I poured us another shot.

“You’re skating around the V word, I see.”

“No! I’ll say it right now. Victor. That’s what you are. Victor.”

“That’s not what I mean. Everyone is calling me a-”

“Don’t. Just don’t start down that path. Do you think of yourself as… That?”

“I didn’t,” I said quietly into the hush of the room.

“Past tense. Interesting. What about now?”

“I guess I don’t know.”

“Do you remember when we were in high school and I’d come over to your place so I didn’t have to go home.”

“Yes, I kept telling you we had a world outside of this town.” We were our own special band of misfits. Outside of the rumors and small town politics laid entire nations to discover. Why settle for the magazine when you could have a library? It felt weird to think of a time when sexual orientation was a label that defined an entire set path. Although the biggest twist was they thought I was gay or a hooker. Maybe it was a gay hooker; I never bothered to ask their opinions because they simply hadn’t mattered to me. They weren’t walking in my heels so why should I bother?

“When we were kids, people seemed so set to fix us because they thought we were broken. But I noticed that as I grew older, people seemed more likely to label us and stick in a box then try to figure out a logical answer.”

“Logical answer? This coming from a guy who still-“I paused. Five years gone and yes he does- “Still relies on an astrologer to do his stock market portfolio.”

“Silence, you hag! I made great money off that.”

“And your love life-” I laughed as I counted down numbers on my hand.

“I don’t get along with Aries. You should know this by now!”

“And your career as a phone sex consultant-” I pointed to my glass and he poured.

“That’s it! Shut your vodka hole. We’re having a moment.” Brandon took a double shot. “And for the record, Fanny Mae would totally take you. Give you some good luck your way.” I snorted and rolled my eyes.

“Does that line come with a coupon?” I said flatly.

“No, because I get the bonus referral.” I rolled over on my back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re not broken just because a bunch of people can’t figure out where you went or disappeared to.” He remarked while filled the air with quotation marks. “People feel helpless if they don’t have answer and maybe there is no answer.” My mind fogged and I asked him something that had been brewing in the back of my mind.

“Why haven’t you  ever asked the golden question?” He laid down opposite me with his head beside mine.

“For a few reasons, one you’d probably tell me first.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Secondly, if you had any answer for the,” He took a breath inward searching for the answer. “Unfortunate lapse of time. You wouldn’t be here with me; you’d be on a highway to hell scouring the earth’s surface for a lead. But that’s only if you had a barest sketch of a clue.” I laughed in disbelief. “I’m serious.” He remarked with a tilted tone. “I’ve seen you go on a ketchup stained napkin in the middle of Denny to find my cheating ex.”

“Ah, John Errand. What a douche. Was he an Aries?”

“Worse, Taurus.” He said turning his head toward me.

“God, I hated him,” I remarked under my breath. It was true, I hated this guy more than any he had ever dated. I was like a knee jerk to my gut. The very second I saw this guy. I hated him. Every inch of me hated him and I didn’t ever know why.

“That’s never been in question.”

“I tried to like him,” Brandon made a uh-huh noise in the back of his throat. “I did! Honest!” he shook his head his mock disbelief. Well, I did try. Just not hard. “Besides, were my hunches wrong?”

“I was in love.” He said with exasperation. “True love,” I rolled my eyes. True love my ass. He was balls deep in the maid in a motel six two miles outside town. Brandon had been one of the few people who loved with absolute abandon. If John wanted an open relationship, all he had to do was ask and maybe come clean about being Bisexual rather than sneaking around in the night. Possessive asshat. The best day of my life was when I beat the shit out of his car and lit it on fire. I smiled remembering the hot, melting faux suede. He sure took his time getting down to his precious car. Oh well, it granted me enough time to bust out some marshmallows and a lawn chair. Don’t judge, I carry around that stuff in my trunk. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to grab a six pack of domestic beer. Would have been awesome to chuck a cheap beer at his head.

“You may have been in love but he was not.” He tilted his head.

“You’re heartless!” He stated flatly.  “Utterly heartless. “

“No, if I had been heartless I would have simply delivered the evidence on your door and not seek fiery vengeance,” I paused. “Also, I’m a pieces. Which makes me super awesome, Hollywood.”

“You never told me how you found him,” he whispered softly.

“Triggers. I used triggers.”

“Oh your mind, remembering thingie.”

“Something like that.”

“Big bouncing red ball.” I laughed softly. “You see it lately?”

“No. Not since my first night back.”

“Have you tried?” he asked.

“That’s not how it works Brandon. It’s like a red beacon when I need to pay attention to something.”

“That reminds me,” he said popping up to his feet. “I got something for you.”

“The vodka was enough, honest.” I heard him pad to his room and shuffle through some drawers.

“Thank me when I get you laid,” he yelled.

“No thanks. Besides, I never get laid with the places you take me. Those guys never look at me because they are too busy looking at you.” I shouted and he responded with a loud bark of laughter.

“But it is fun to look!” He said peeking his head out the door.

“It’s like being a diabetic at an all you can eat ice cream buffet! It’s not fair!” He padded back to my side as I rolled over to fetch more vodka. The end was looking mighty bleak.  Maybe it was time to get a bottle of tequila.

“One of your saving graces, I assure you. But, it is evidence of your quest for answers when there are answers for said questions.” He dropped a red ball on the carpet and it bounced toward me dragging a light key chain behind it.

“I think you’ve had too much vodka for that sentence to make sense.” I rubbed my face.

“Or you’re looking for answers in the wrong places. Hopefully, this will give you some idea where to look next.” I held it in my hand and examined it. He poked me with toe. “Get up, we’re going out.”

“Is that some sort of joke? If so, it’s a bad one.”

“Why?” He asked jabbing me harder.

“I’m already buzzed.” I got to my feet and the world wasn’t completely moving.

“Excellent!” He grabbed my jacket and tossed it at me while sifting through his pile of black shoes for more acceptable black shoe. “You’re fun that way.”

“Cunt.”

“Harlot.” He found a pair and quickly put them on. “Now hurry up! The night is still young!” Dragging me out the door a dull truth became apparent. He, too, was buzzed but this was the life for two single bitches like us. Young (kinda), Dumb (okay, not really) and full of rum (soon, I hope).

Chapter one: What ever happened to Jane Rose?

All I saw was clear green. It was a green I wanted to live inside forever with childish vigor of innocence. When I talk about the years that I gone by, I can sum them up in few words for my memory had buried them beneath time and silence. They said I disappeared in those woods that humid June day and never walked out. My white cotton dress clung to my porcelain frame as my palms rushed over the fabric to refresh my hands. Purple and yellow flowers littered the landscape with the exception of the darkened pathway to the woods. I’d only be a minute. I just needed some air from the pressure. It would only take a moment, to sit in the woods and take in the peace.

 I sat in a clearing among the flowers I found a willow tree. I looked upward to the sky watching the long branches dance among the gentle wind. I closed my eyes. Everything had gone black until I woke up on the steps of a court house. The familiar smell of a concrete jungles filled my nostrils and erased the fresh grass whipping me soul into panic. “Ma’am?” a voice behind me called. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?” I said weakly. I looked to the direction of the voice. A police officer took a step toward me. “I- uh, I…” I trailed off. Was this a dream? He squinted his blue eyes and approached me with caution. I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Do you need some assistance?” I stared at him trying to gather some thoughts. He reached out his hand and I took it. It felt warm and soft. “My name is Tom.” He said softly. “What are you doing here? It’s three in the morning, you shouldn’t be out so late.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“What’s your name,” he asked helping me to my feet.

“My name Jane Rose.” A flash of relief flickered across his face. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“How did you get here?”

“I’m not sure really, I went for a walk in the woods. I think I fell asleep…” I trailed off looking at around to the sound of street lights buzzing. “I’m sorry.” Lightening danced across the sky casting eerie shadows all around me.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“Yes, although I feel exhausted,” I yawned. He nodded.

“Would you mind coming inside?”

“Why?”

“I’d like to make sure you’re ok. You seem disorientated.”

“I’m not.”

“Come inside and get you some water.” I shrugged my shoulders. “We have a medic on duty.”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Better to wander on the edge of safety.” He said sincerely. “You can call someone to pick you up if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much.” I smiled and followed him into the building that sang of an ancient Greek motif. He guided me to a nearby office where pudgy white man with a jelly donut. Flecked grey hair grew out his scalp and seemingly matched his bushy mustache. A pair of thin rimmed glasses slid forward to the end of his nose.

“Hey Phil,” Tom started. “You got a minute?” Phil huffed and grunted as he got up out his chair.

“Yeah.” He abandoned his jelly donut on a stack of unorganized papers. He avoided eye contact with me. “What can I do you for?” He pushed the rims back up.

“This lady seems to have lost her way. I found her on our steps.” Phil glanced over to me vaguely disinterested. “Would you mind, making sure she’s alright?” He shrugged.

“She looks fine to me.”

“Can I use your phone.” I blurted out. Phil’s eyebrows furrowed at the request but then glumly point to the desk.

I dialed Bert’s number and an operators prerecorded voice echoed through the phone saying the number had been disconnected. I yawned and tried the phone again with the same results. I tried called my mother next. The phone trilled endlessly. I must have dialed the wrong number. I kept picking up the phone and redialing.

“Beta Zeta Kappa,” a youthful groggy voice finally lingered through. A paused a second. “Hello?”

“Mom?” I asked.

“What?” Asked the voice a little clearer. “Do have any idea what time is? What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m sorry can you put my mother on?”

“Uh, No. We don’t have any mother’s here. Are you trying the right number?”

“Is this 809 10^th street?”

“Yeah. Are you the one who keeps calling?” Irritation rising in her voice.

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry to wake you. My mother should be there, is she still at the party?”

“Listen, it’s finals week and all of us are exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with bat shit crazy people on the phone crank calling us. Stop calling us!”

“I… need some help-“

“Then call a psychiatrist. Call again and I will call the police.” She hung up leaving me to stare at the receiver in my hand. A heavy cloud settled over me as I stared in shock. What’s going on here?

“Mrs. Rose? Is everything alright?” All I could do was stare. “What’s wrong?” Phil snapped out of his grump and narrowed his eyes.

“What her first name?” He asked.

“Jane,” Tom said taking the phone out of my hand.

“Shit, I can’t believe it. I know you.” I shook my head.

“Um, I don’t think so. I just met you a few minutes ago.” I felt sick to my stomach and the world was beginning to spin.

“Well I don’t know you, know you but I know of you. You disappeared from a party five years ago.”

“No, I haven’t. I was at a party earlier today.”

“You look exactly the same. It has to be you.” A bouncing red ball passed by the doorway. I walked out of the room in to the hallway. Boing-boing-boing-boing. I turned around back to the office and shut my eyes tightly.

My eyes flew open and the office faded into the silent darkness. I had to remember. My apartment was small and couch was smaller. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the bed because it seemed more haunted than the brown in my eyes. Big red ball, I thought. A familiar tug in my gut as if to remind me of something that was important. It’d been a year since my dramatic reappearance.

Big bouncing ball.

I was facing the door as I always had. I was alone as I always should be. My thoughts turned to Bert. I wondered how relieved he was when he found out he was rid of me, how relieved everyone was when they buried that empty casket. Even in the darkness I could smell the damp and neglected ground where my grave stands.

I envied that coffin and envied oblivion for I would never know such peace. I sat up on the couch and looked at my digital clock. Time plays a cruel joke on insomniacs or maybe that’s just life in general it’s strange to think that life goes on without the proper staple of reality but I think maybe I’m better off that way. Alone in the darkness, I’m better off alone. I knew I only had a short amount of time before I see the doctor about my “condition” as they so harshly call it but I know it’s polite talk for massive speculation of my where abouts. Was I lying? Could they recover any answers? Who was the villain? What happened? Either way for the time being I was forbidden to return there. My life was no longer mine and I became lost. I refused to go outside. When I returned people said they were so thankful I was alive, so grateful and lucky to be here among the living.

To me, I was the very same woman who walked into the woods then and the same woman walking out. I closed my eyes sinking back into the green. All I remember is green.