2. Bitsy

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Days pass. The snow is clearing. I told the lady on the television so. Steve comes on every once and a while. Sometimes he talks to me. I wish I could talk back. I want to go to the museum. I think there is stuff about me there.

I tug on a grey sweater and pull a black hoodie over it. My usual dark blue jeans cover my black boots. I have a baseball cap that I wear. It makes me feel a bit safer. As well as the pistol in my bag. I strap it onto me and walk silently across the halls. I find it weird how my feet make no noise. It's completely natural. Sometimes I stamp a little harder just to make sure I'm real and actually walking.

There is a museum on the outer edge of this neighborhood. I saw a flyer about it earlier this week. It has some stuff about me and Steve. I want to talk to Steve, but I don't know how.

The museum is massive. There are giant sculptures of gods, dinosaurs, ships, airplanes, rockets, everything. I see a monkey that kind of looks like one in a film I've seen.

"Buck, you wanna go see a movie?"

"Yeah, of course, Stevie."

"How 'bout King Kong? He kinda looks like you."

"Shut up, bitsy. You're paying."

My head hurts from the rush of memories. I open the notebook in my hand and write down, "King Kong. 1933. Steve. I used to call him bitsy."

I can't help but smile at the nickname. I continue down the hall marked, 'U.S. History.'

The walls are decorated in magnificent reds and blues. I see some basic things that ring bells. George Washington, Betsy Ross, Abraham Lincoln.. I even recognize a wild bison standing in the corner. They were almost extinct back then.

Then I come face to face with a man that looks exactly like me. Almost. He looks better. He's very handsome. I read the tag. Bucky Barnes. His face has short stubble, his hair is cut. He smiles brightly. He's laughing. I furrow my brows. Next to him stands Steve. My best friend. Why is this man next to my best friend? Was that me? I shake my head and remember that I'm Bucky Barnes. That is me. I smile and back away from the giant picture so other people can see me with my best friend.

I find a bench in front of the poster, but a way back. I sit down and start drawing myself. I want to look like him. I sketch the shorter hair, bright eyes, and big smile. I leave out the tiny cuts on his face from battle.

Under my sloppy drawing I write, 'Bucky Barnes, 1944.'

I remember that Steve went to art school. He was always so talented. His drawing would look better than mine. On the next clean page I scribble, 'Steve went to Auburndale Art School.'

I stand up and continue walking through the exhibit. I see eight men. I know them. The sign above them says, 'The Howling Commandos.' I scribble that down in my notebook and keep walking. I see a shield with a star on it. I know this. It's Steve's. Why is it here? It must be a replica. I draw a small sketch of it. The rest of the exhibit is just weapons and war stories. I pick up some brochures around the place and start to walk out.

"Hey, do I know you?" A man in his early twenties stops me on the steps outside.

My eyes widen, my heart stops, "No, I don't think so."

"No.. no, I do."

My breathing is shallow, "I'm around the city a lot.." I let out and clutch my notebook tighter. He leans in closer and studies my features.

fugue // stuckyWhere stories live. Discover now