The Alters

1| Instant Noodles

A new record. It had to be. All it took was three days.

My job at Crunchy Cafe was now kaput.

A sharp breeze slices through to bone, and I bundle up in my jacket, my gaze frantically bouncing between the buttons and the road.

I need a ride.

It's only 5:30, but the bus I usually take isn't going to run until 8 pm, when I should've been getting off work. I can't wait that long. It's the end of another career opportunity. I should be at home, lamenting, with ice cream, telenovelas, and tears of frustration.

I wave my arms frantically at the road, but none of the drivers spare me a second glance. As each car passes by, they send more gushes of freezing autumn air blasting over me. I had to be looking more pathetic by the minute. I'm hunched over and trembling, like an abandoned animal.

I check my watch and suck in a sharp breath, an entire 15 minutes had gone by. Sundown is at 6:16—30 minutes. Now, I'm desperate.

"Please, please, please! Just get me a ride!"

It isn't about the telenovelas; I can binge watch Lágrimas de Lluvia on my laptop whenever. The truth is, I'm terrified of the dark.

At least I think so.

The few times I've been trapped in the dark have always ended with me coming to, in the light, surrounded by strangers asking if I'm alright, and calling me Minnie.

My name is Iya.

But, Minnie is one of four...side effects...of Dissociative Identity Disorder. She tends to take over when it's too dark and apparently, she screams.

So, I'm trapped here, without enough money for a cab. No cars are stopping and the only bus home won't be here for the next two hours. That's not going to cut it. I need to figure something out, and fast, because I'd really like Minnie not to show up today. As a matter of fact, I'd really like her never to show up again.

It's 5:52. Cars had been zooming by earlier, but now the road is barren. The stores are empty, and the sidewalks are lifeless. And it'll only get more desolate from here. I take in several deep breaths and square my shoulders. I have to stop the next car.

I march forward, plant my feet in the middle of the road, and stare intently at the intersection. A plastic bag with a blue logo slides across the ground in front of me, pushed along by the wind.

It scrapes across the asphalt slowly, mocking me. It's the only thing moving on this entire block and it has the audacity to pretend to be a car.

Realistically, the bag is more likely to get a ride before me. But, I'll be damned if I let Minnie handle how we got home. The next car that comes is mine.

As if to challenge that thought, a silver Jeep comes barreling down the road at a speed of at least 40 mph.

No worries. That car's going to stop.

45 mph.

It'll stop.

50 mph.

Please stop.

55.

Stop.

60.

Stopstopstopstopstop!

65.

WOMAN, MOVE!

I leap out of the way seconds before the car zooms past. The two-ton tank couldn't be more than 6 inches away from my face and the proximity is enough to stop my heart. I stagger backward and fall to the curb, horrified.

The car skids as it rounds the corner and its very angry driver rears his ugly head, yelling, "CRAZY BROAD!" as he disappears. I clutch my chest and feel like hurling, however, I can't because I haven't eaten since morning. I snap to a stand, my fist raised to give a colorful insult of my own, but my jaw flaps open uselessly when I notice a familiar blue logo, trapped on the silver jeep's antenna. The hitchhiking plastic bag flutters goodbye as the tail end of the car vanishes behind a building.

It actually caught a ride before me.

"I give up!" I scream to an empty sky. "I concede!" I drop my head back and sigh in exasperation. My breath condenses in the cold air, a wispy flag of surrender.

The sky's color is already beginning to change. I watch, defeated, as the navy blue of night slowly overcomes the city.

Who am I trying to kid? I can't do this. I can't even keep a job.

A few steps to my right, the neon lights of a shabby convenience store flicker on. A tattered sign on the door grabs my attention:

Open from 6 am to 1 am.

Maybe...just maybe...

The store has warmth, food, shelter, and most importantly, light. And it's right in front of the bus stop, too. I can search for a job...eat some ramen... I only need to make it to eight.

I grab my purse and scamper forward, determined to last.

"Lucky Market."

Lord knows I could use a little luck.