Reduced to Ruin

Chapter 8

I heard voices far away before I even opened my eyes. I thought I was dreaming, but then it became clear it was James and Dan. They were too far away to decipher clearly. I turned over to my right side, and then realized I wasn't in the van anymore. I opened my eyes and discovered I was in a large bed that must've been a California king. My head was on two down pillows, and there were two more pillows to my right. A big, beautiful comforter was on top of me, on top of what felt like very expensive sheets, at least a 500-thread count.

I looked around, trying to gather my senses. I was in someone's bedroom, a very nice-looking room. Not only was the bed fashionable, but the rest of the furniture was a matching set made of dark wood. The whole bedroom was a style I would buy for myself, if I could've ever afforded it.

There was a bathroom directly across from the end of the bed. A closet was to the right of the bathroom. All in all, it was a nice bedroom. The bedroom door was to my left, and it was open to the rest of the house. That's when it hit me James and Dan were about fifty feet away, standing in the kitchen.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and tried to comprehend my new reality. So, this is what James called home. This must've been my bedroom. This must've been James's house—our house. No, his house. This was not my future.

Simon and Garfunkel was playing in the other room, and I could hear one of them, I thought James, singing along.

"I am a rock. I am an iiiiiisland," he sang.

I rubbed my eyes.

"Knock, knock," James said cheerily as he stood at the bedroom door. "I hope you had a good rest."

"How long have I been . . . asleep?"

"A couple hours, I think."

"Oh."

"Do you want the small grand tour?"

James was practically giddy. He motioned for me to get out of bed. I stood up, still groggy and disoriented. I was still in the same sweats and blouse, so at least there were no new surprises in that area.

"First, let me show you your bathroom."

I followed him into the bathroom, and it was a standard one—sink, toilet, and shower. Just like the bedroom, it was nicely decorated with plush towels and a granite sink.

"Nice, huh?" It was a rhetorical question. "Let's check out your closet."

He swung open the right side of the closet door as if it was a big presentation. It was full of clothes, all different styles and occasions. It had one of those closet organizers inside with various shelves that held shoes and more clothing. Someone was really into fashion, and I wondered why I would ever have the need for all of this. I simply nodded to him in agreement, overwhelmed by it all.

"Let's go check out the rest of the house."

Dismissively, he closed the closet door and walked out of the bedroom. I hesitantly followed suit.

We walked into the entryway and family room. Everything looked so new and untouched, like a model home. A large flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. There was an L-shaped brown couch and a large wooden coffee table with two pretty, beveled pieces of square glass in the middle. In the far corner of the family room was some exercise equipment—a treadmill and free-standing weights. The family room was decorated similarly to the bedroom, very tasteful and modern. I really liked the style—if it were in Lisa's and my apartment.