Synonyms for Oasis | original fiction

Velvet Skies

"You're new to town."

Roxy blinked up at Stan, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. Was he really going to just pretend that nothing had happened? Pretend that she hadn't just been kicking and clawing like a rabid animal? Anxiety pinched at her as she tried to decipher Stan's unreadable expression.

"Um, yes. I moved in a few weeks ago." She admitted, nibbling at her bottom lip. Stan cast his gaze back down at her again, appraising her wordlessly. The two lapsed into a lukewarm silence as Stan seemed to mull over the information, calculating his next question carefully.

"Why?" He inquired.

Roxy arched an eyebrow.

"Why'd you move here?" He elaborated, his voice still toneless and blank. It was a perfectly valid question, considering the relative rurality of April Cove. There weren't any major areas of commerce or tourist attractions in the area, it was just a quiet seaside village.

"Ah." Roxy cleared her throat. "I just... My grandfather had a place out here. He passed away recently, and I figured I would come out here to renovate it and sell it. But... I just kind of..." She inhaled sharply. "I don't know. I needed... A fresh start, I guess. So I decided to sell my place back in the city and move here myself."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Roxy looked away, suddenly feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

"It's okay. I didn't know him very well, my grandfather." To her own ears, her voice sounded maladroit and graceless. She winced, trying to think of something better to say. "Yeah, we weren't close." Like that's any better.

"Why were you out here, in the rain, Roxy?" He probed, still in that affectless, bored voice. Roxy felt her mouth suddenly go dry, her heartrate kicking up a notch.

"Um, I..." She mumbled. "I... I don't know... I kind of just... Went outside and... Ended up there." She sputtered, cringing again to herself. She sounded completely and utterly insane. It was a small miracle that Stan hadn't ditched her yet.

"I see."

He thinks you are crazy. He is afraid of you. He thinks you are dangerous, and he's right.

"I come out here sometimes in the rain, too." He remarked plainly. Roxy turned her chin up, gazing at him with wide eyes as he spoke.

"Oh?" Roxy asked, sighing out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. The line of conversation had been fringing on dangerous territory for Roxy. She had a sneaking suspicion that her little outing to the docks had been a byproduct of a dissociative episode, as most of her inexplicable behaviors typically were. The dissociation conversation was an exhausting endeavor, and she wasn't prepared to explain it to Stan after all that had happened. Of course, if she told him about her dissociative amnesia she would probably end up divulging details about the abuse that prompted her condition. She was definitely not ready to talk about that with Stan.

The two stumbled through some more nebulous small-talk as they made their way through a thicket of woods and across a little trundle bridge, stretched over a roaring river. By the time they reached Roxy's cottage, the gunfire rain had waned to a gentle drizzle; misting the valley and sweetening the air with the perfume of fresh spring blossoms. Darkness was gathering on the horizon, inking the pewter sky. The descending twilight brought with it the emergence of a few speckled stars and a waxing moon; half-obscured by the canopy of clouds.

"I... This is my place." Roxy gestured towards her cabin sheepishly. Her tiny Cape-Cod style house was small in contrast to the neo-eclectic megastructures she was accustomed to from her life in the city, but she thought it was charming. The little place was irrevocably less opulent than the other properties in April Cove, but the view of the ocean made up for what her cabin lacked in luxury.

Stan blinked, something melancholy flickering behind his striking seaglass eyes. He cleared his throat, humming as he glanced up the driveway. "It's nice." He commented offhandedly. Roxy nodded, shivering slightly. His jacket had kept her dry for the most part, but her sundress was still soaking and cold against her body.

Roxy allowed her gaze to wander up to his. His face was blank, aside from that little upturn in the corner of his mouth.

"Let's get drinks sometime."

Roxy felt her mind momentarily idle as she gazed up at him, her eyes just a fraction too wide. It had to be too good to be true. Someone as handsome and mysterious as him, with his dark hair and bright green eyes and sharp jawline. He wanted to hang out with her? After everything, he still wanted to see her again?

"Oh... Sure." She responded, sounding much more ambivalent than she had intended.

"Friday night. Bittersweet Saloon. 8pm."

She blinked, tucking a lock of soaking blonde hair behind her ear as she inhaled sharply, trying to collect her fragmented thoughts.

"Perfect... I... I can't wait!" Roxy chimed breathlessly, chewing on her lower lip.

"Good night."

Stan turned and disappeared into the curtain of fog with one last little smirk and wave. Roxy reciprocated the little gesture, eyes still wide and heart still fluttering.

~

"Bon-bon!" Roxy clicked her tongue, crouching down to greet the tabby. Bonnie trotted out from the shadows, chirping a little meow of hello. "Are you hungry, girl?" Roxy asked the cat. Bonnie blinked at her in affirmation.

"Alright." Roxy rose, rifling through her cabinets for the bag of cat food. The loud crinkling of plastic always delighted Bonnie, who made a beeline for her food bowl.

"Bon appetit. Get it?" Roxy giggled, pouring the kibble into Bonnie's bowl. Before Roxy could finish pouring the serving of food, Bonnie had already begun to scarf down the kibbles.

Roxy traipsed into her bedroom, peeling Stan's bloodstained overcoat off before doing a double take.

SHIT. I forgot to give it back to him! She slapped a hand to her head. Dumbass! You are STUPID!

Sighing, she folded the jacket and tucked it into her bookbag. She would give it back to him that weekend, when she met him at the bar. It was probably a good idea for her to wash it beforehand, though.

She stripped the sodden sundress from her body, casting it into her laundry hamper. She threw on her warmest sweater and sweatpants before returning to the kitchen to make herself dinner.

That is, if you could call low-fat microwavable mashed potatoes 'dinner'.

It was her only choice, though. Moving had been a hectic endeavor and she hadn't had time yet to properly go grocery shopping or to stock her pantry. So she settled for the mashed potatoes, discarding the box and popping the plastic tray of frozen potatoes into the microwave.

As she watched the dinner revolve around in her microwave, her mind wandered back to Stan. He had been so painfully sweet to her, even after she had practically tried to kill him in her blind panic. She wished that they could have met under some other circumstance; she didn't want him to think she was crazy.

The beep from the microwave startled her from her inattention, making her jump slightly. The potatoes had a slightly burned-plastic smell. She picked at the mush for a few minutes, licking her fork a few times before giving up entirely and tossing the tray into the garbage.

The night was still young, but her bones ached and her head was thrumming, so she resolved to begin her nighttime routine early. A routine that consisted of checking each door and each window to ensure they were all properly locked, and then checking again. Brush her teeth, change into pajamas, and then check a third time to make absolute sure. It made her feel childish and paranoid, but it was the only real assurance she could give herself that she would be safe at night.

After finishing her routine and flipping the kitchen light on to ensure that the darkness wouldn't swallow her whole, Roxy finally let her eyes flutter shut as she rolled into her blankets and drifted to sleep.