Independence Day

Call You Back

The gentle vibration from her phone rattled her from her liquor induced coma. It was her mom. The "you disappoint me" look staring at her from the caller ID, demanding she meet her high expectations. Reminding her of what she didn't miss. Jordyn pressed END, sending mom to voicemail, something she should be used to. Didn't she know that drinks were half price last night? She returned her seat to an upright position as her eyes adjusted to the 8 AM sun.

Thump, thump, thump. Her head whipped toward where the noise came from. She smiled, uneasy. Her head felt like something was pressing against her forehead, trying to crack bone and break free. She wished that her lemon air freshener would hurry up and kick in stronger to cover up any incriminating scents.

"Good morning" Jordyn said, her voice not yet tuned and ready for human interaction.

"Hello ma'am. I'm going to have to ask you to move your car" the officer said.

"Sure. I was just leaving. The storm last night was crazy. I figured that my best bet was to pull over and wait it out. I happened to fall asleep though." All she saw was his torso. She didn't make an effort to look up, and he didn't make an effort to lean down. The cop sighed and she took that as a sign that he could care less about her story. His job was to get the roadways clear so that the ice salt could be spread out and that traffic could go back to normal. With a thank you, she revved her engine, the signature two times to get it started, and proceeded to merge onto the early morning roads. As always, she sang along to the same 10 songs in rotation on the radio. She could feel the rawness of the liquor after taste in her throat. Speeding home, she checked her phone for messages other than her mother's. Her mom had text her. "When you get a chance" it said.

Exit 31 A came a lot sooner than she had expected. She got over two lanes to her right, ignoring speeding limits and turning signals that the law required. Her phone, codename tracking device, rang again.

"We need to talk" her sister Taylor said. Straight to business.

"Go ahead. I'm just heading home now." Jordyn winced, immediately wishing she could take that statement back.

"Would it kill you to come home?" Jordyn parked the car and turned the rumbling engine off. Oil change, she thought ignoring her sister altogether. "Great. So I'll see you in a little bit."

"A little bit? You want me to come over now?" She slammed the car door accidentally and looked apologetically at it before hitting the lock button 3 times.

"It's important. You're not doing anything anyway. You just said you were going home" Taylor nagged. Her voice was echoing; she was in the bathroom with the phone on speaker.

"Fine. I'll see you in an hour." But Taylor had already hung up.

Jordyn walked up her apartment's wobbly staircase. Four flights to her floor. The life of an unknown artist. Her purse loosely hung onto her shoulder, long enough to make a crash landing in the middle of her hallway: a five step divide between her living room and her bedroom. She went into the bathroom and for the first time, saw the monstrosity that had become her appearance. The cover up had smudged, clashing with the lip color and the mascara crumbles. She was a blotchy clown. The blended shades, now a layer, or two, of waxy mush, the color of 10 crayons scribbled together in her wash cloth. Staring, she broke down her reflection into shapes and lines, shadows and negative space. Mental note 2: fix lightbulb. By the time she would remember, the dim one glowing now would be flickering. With one more onceover she dashed to her room to look for yesterday's jeans. When she found them, strewn in her closet, she spritzed it with perfume, ignoring the dark mystery spot on the front of her left thigh. Still no urgency in her preparation, she brushed her teeth, made a strawberry and peanut butter sandwich, and grabbed her easel, pencils, oil pastels and charcoal. Just an outline. She just wanted to capture herself enough so that when she got back from her family reunion she could come back to the look, the feeling.