The Outsiders: Before My Time Sequel | Sodapop

The Date II

August 12, 2017

Sometimes when I go to sleep, I wake up in a panic that I am back in 1966. My eyes will flutter open and I'll see a beige wall with framed family photos of a family not my own, with a lingering scent of citrus on a woodsy base rather than my bedroom with white curtains and all the pictures I've put on my wall of my favorite memories.

I have nearly convinced myself that I have been imagining or dreaming this whole thing. Either I'm psychotic into believing that time travel exists and this is just my way to cope with some traumatic event that I endured that my brain has blocked the memory of, or I'm stuck in 1966 and in denial. Or maybe I died in the fire and this is my purgatory.

No matter what it is, there is a sense of relief that washes over me when I opened my eyes and see that I'm in my own room in my own time. I rubbed my eye and rolled over to grab my phone from the night stand. The blue light burned my eyes a little, making me want to close them again.

I groggily dragged myself to the bathroom and I turned the hot shower water on. The bun I previously threw my hair up into the night before, was now hanging low by my neck and pulling on the hairs by the top of my head. This proves that I move around a lot in my sleep. I painfully got the hair-tie out and shook my lion's mane out over my shoulders.

From my phone, I turned on my music and shuffled one of my favorite playlists. I turned the song up so I would be able to hear it through the crashing water from the shower. I stepped into the shower, leaving my phone on the counter by the sink. I let the music play as I hummed along to my shower head. I even took the time to shave my legs. When done right, it takes quite a while.

I wrapped my hair around itself and squeezed it tight. Water fell from my soaking wet hair and splashed on the white tub underneath. I turned the water off and stepped out onto an old green towel that was placed on the floor to protect myself from slipping. I grabbed a folded white towel from the counter and wrapped it around my body to dry myself off.

When my skin was no longer wet, I opened the door to the bathroom and wrapped the towel around my chest and tucked it into itself without needing to hold onto it. I walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a peach from the fridge, washed it, and began to eat around the pit.

Jenni was not up yet, which was not a surprise. My parents were not downstairs either, so I figured that they were still asleep. I walked to the front door and peered out to the driveway, and their car was gone. Curious, I took another bite of my peach and chewed in thought. I was quick to give up and head back upstairs.

My music was still playing on my phone, which sounded really loud now that the water was off. I noted that I needed to respond to some Snapchats I got from some friends from school, as well as a few from Lillian that I opened right away.

"Elvis didn't die until 1977 and the boys just found out," was the caption of a picture of all the boys with their faces in their hands, sitting on the couch. "I think Two is having the hardest time with this". It looked like they were taken from their apartment late last night. Probably when she dropped everyone else off.

I chuckled a little bit before sending her a photo back of myself laughing. "That's actually really sad".

I clicked my phone off and wandered into my room. I tapped it against my chest and set it back on my night stand. I wasn't sure if it was from my year of cell phone rehab or if I have just been busy with my boys, but I really didn't have a desire to be on my phone unless it was to communicate with Lillian or Jenni. I had no interest in social media anymore, it was consuming my life but since being in 1966 I've learned that there are much better uses of my time than staring at a screen.