The Things We Bury

Chapter One

Present Day
Beaumont, Texas
Ember

She waited for the rhythmic breathing that follows a deep sleep. Still naked, she tip toed to his jeans and pulled out his wallet, relieving him of his cash. Grasping the money in one hand, she pulled on her pants, shoving the money in her pocket. Her bra and shirt came next, then her black leather combat boots. For a moment she lingered, staring at the man she left the bar with.

He had been nice but stupid.

The man, possibly called Alan, had come into the bar flashing his expensive watch and taste. Ember had immediately zeroed in on him and went to sweet talking him. She found him sweet but had spotted the wad of bills in his wallet when he slipped her a business card. Around one in the morning they took a cab back to his apartment on the nice side of town.

She was frustrated thinking about her stuff was all on the other side of town, stashed away. Grabbing her jacket and purse from the floor near the front door she slipped out, relieved to hear the door automatically lock behind her. Walking away from the luxury apartment one thing was clear: Alan had money to spare.

Outside the January air was crisp, her breath floating in little clouds away from her. The long coat was worn but still warm; she pulled the hood up and dropped her head.

You don't see me. I am not here.

She felt invisible when she thought that. In reality, her pace and unbothered walking usually kept people from looking at her. If you don't look like a threat, they won't look at you and if you look uninterested, they won't talk to you. She's had three years to perfect this. A mile away from the apartments, she hailed a cab and gave him directions to a diner that sat on the "bad side" of town.

Ember hated that phrase, implying that all the people that lived there were ghetto, lazy or a criminal. In reality, they were just people. Young families, single households or elderly—they lived in a place called home. Who was anyone to judge?

The driver ignored her, not even looking up in the rear view to watch her. If he had looked, he would have found a twenty-something woman with long, dyed black hair and big blue eyes. An innocent face aged by trauma of a past she barely remembered. If you looked close enough, you might even glimpse the tattoos crawling up her throat; tattoos that covered almost every inch of her body.

It was on a whim she followed that brought her here, to Beaumont, to possible answers. She was a town over and saw an advertisement for the local diner she was going too. The Greasy Spoon sparked a deeply recessed memory from her childhood.

Sitting at the counter sucking down a strawberry shake and eating a hamburger. Ember never can remember the people she's with.

She tipped the driver an extra twenty dollars from the nearly four hundred she had lifted. Inside the waitress behind the counter, Cherry, smiled at her and waved. "Hey doll, I have your stuff in the office if you need it."

Cherry had become a fast friend in the town, trying to help Ember the best she could. Ember of course didn't tell her everything; even when people are nice they don't want to hear your trauma. That was something she held close, careful. "Thank you so much, I'm probably going to leave today. Could I get some coffee?"

"Of course, I'll be sad to see you go. Get any answers?" Cherry asked while placing a mug in front of Ember, filling it to the brim with hot coffee.

"No, still just have the one memory of this place. I checked out all the places you suggest, the mall, the zoo and the city park but nothing. We might have just stopped on the way through." She didn't know who the "we" was and it bothered her.

The bell above the door rang and Ember focused on her coffee and phone while Cherry went to go check on her customers. Someone sat a chair down from her, huffing as they peeled off their jacket. The smelled like diesel and fire smoke. Curious, Ember peeked over, and found a man around her age. He had a scruffy black beard and matching curly hair. A black streak ran down his cheek, highlighting his high cheek bones.

He must have felt her eyes on him and shifted, holding up the menu further. Ember quickly diverted her eyes back, scrolling through articles from the area. Cherry's voice was bright and bubbly when she greet the man. "Hey Charlie, you're looking rough this morning."

Charlie nodded his head, "Up all night trying to fix Carl's tractor so he could use it today." His voice was relatively deep and a little hoarse. He pulled a pack of smokes out of his flannel pocket and popped one in his mouth.

Cherry handed him a coffee and ashtray, then turned to Ember with a plate of French toast. "You're the best, Cherry." Ember had only been here a week but Cherry already had her order memorized.

While she ate, she felt the man's eyes on her. Her skin prickled as if his gaze was a physical weight on her skin. Ember focused on her food, using the side of the fork to cut apart the French toast before dipping it in a small container of syrup.

When she finished eating, she felt Charlie's eyes on her more intently. She finally faced him fully and scrunched her face in annoyance. "Can I help you with something?"

He stared at her, not answering, his mouth slightly open. Finally he breathed a name, "Ashley?"

The name soar through her, gluing her to her spot, freezing her. Ashley.

"What did you just call me?" She could practically feel her brain going into overdrive, so called gears turning, trying to recall the relevancy of that name. Was that her name? Did he know her?

She was surprised to find tears gathering in his eyes.

Then there, on the edge of her memory, she could see a young boy. Maybe 10 or 12, lanky with the same long curly hair and a cleft chin that made her heart stutter. He smiled, running towards her, the sunlight almost blinding as he called out her name.

Ashley.