Inside the Fire

Chapter 8: Happenstance

I've walked for half a day but the buildings don't end! My fatigue is returning, a sharp cold blade of pain stabs at my brain from exhaustion. It takes me a moment to comprehend that I've stopped. I'm waiting at the bus stop Tom takes to work. A creature of habit, I rub my eyes, how many of his habits have rubbed off onto me?
This street is nearly empty, two hipster human's wait at the stop as well, one leaning on a resting spot, engrossed in a book made entirely out of metal. I peer at it's title,
'The rise and fall of film making: An auto biography'
I'm certain this human must be fun during social events. The other hipster leans against an ancient light pole, stripped of nearly all it's paint and rusting at every edge. The light pole hipster sighs, attempting to draw attention. I ignore him, everything about his outfit is a cry for attention and I don't plan on indulging him. He clears his throat,
"Beautiful today, isn't it?" I glance at him, and based on his posture, it's obvious he's talking to me. I shrug in response. He snickers, "You're not going to answer?" I fold my arms, what is he going on about? He tsks,
"Pity, you smell so interesting." Smell?
I stare at him, only now do I see the scars around his eyes, covered mostly by thick black sunglasses and a seeing stick held in one hand.
"OH uh," I shuffle my feet, "Today is nice, I suppose."
He smirks in my direction, something about his face is familiar but I can't quite place where I've seen him before. Ridiculous, none of the human's at the lab had been blind, in fact, isn't that an easy surgery to correct?
"What brings you here?" His smile is friendly.
I pace a few steps to think of a normal human response to his ordinary question.
"Family?" I ask, realizing my mistake, make a show of clearing my throat, and repeat my reply firmly this time. "Family." Now I have to ask him a question now right?
"Uhm, what about you?"
He stares off into space,
"I suppose, it's family that brings me here as well..." he trails off into a thoughtful silence.
I nod in reply, and quickly stutter out,
" Uh-oh? How is that working for you?" Dangit, now I'm prying. His lips twitch at the edges,
"Awkwardly if I'll be honest." He chuckles, "I'm used to being the only one in the know, you know, but now it's surreal." He shoves away from the light pole,
"Anyway, I can see you have a good head on your shoulders, so I'll help you out a little."
He walks directly toward me and holds a folded piece of shale paper out to me. I automatically take it from his hand and glance at it, it's directions. The man points at the paper,
"This place is looking for tenants, you should be able to talk your way into living there, if you use your head." He taps at his temple, his empty eye sockets peer over the rim of his blacked out sunglasses. The darkness of them stands the hair on the back of my neck straight up, and I realize that only an animal could've caused the scars on his face. One that had gouged his eyes out. I'm frozen in his sight less gaze, but it only lasts a moment, he straightens up and walks out into the busy street.
I watch dumbfounded as he casually walks accross, without the use of his stick. No sooner had I noticed that particular oddity then he pulled it out to it's full length and used to to navigate. Once across the street, he half turned, waving in my direction, before continuing on and rounding a corner out of my line of sight. I look at the paper, I don't know why I should trust such a strange man but, what other choice do I have?
The directions are easy enough to follow, but it still takes me a good few hours to reach the place. Somewhere the sun is setting, and the temperature is dropping. I don't feel the cold per say, but I do notice the excess amount of energy it's taking to keep me warm. The apartment building is smaller than all the surrounding buildings. It's maybe 5 floors, if I'm being generous, and made out of concrete, with a low wall on the perimeter made out of the same materials. Nothing about it is inviting, but there is a sign out front advertising it's need for residents nonetheless. With everything I've already been through in my short my life, this should be easy. I steady my breath and knock on the opposing metal door, it ring slightly with the contact. My knuckles hurt more than they should, I lean forward to smell the door. Ah, it's made of iron. An older human woman opens the door just then, I catch myself before I fall into the woman. I fiddle with my hands,
"I'm here for one of your rooms?" I ask, my voice shaking.
What about this old woman scares me? Maybe it's the way she holds herself, or the authority her presence expresses. She opens the door wider and gestures for me to come in. I've never been in a place like this, Tom has never been in a place like this. He lived in the same neighborhood he grew up, went to a college nearby, and eventually got a job that was reachable by bus.
The floor is a sticky grey vinyl, the walls are a cold tan color and made of plaster. The older woman follows behind me, I try to look like I know where I'm going, glancing out of the sides of my eyes to see whichever room she meant to take me. Her mind doesn't give me much to go on either, her thoughts are simple and she's getting impatient with my careful pace.
I see a chair around a door frame that flashes through her mind, and dutifully take a seat in the one opposing it. I try to smile invitingly, how am I going to convince this woman to let me stay here... rent free? She carefully settles down into her favorite chair, expecting that I'm only here to waste her time. Talk my way in, using my mind? What kind of advice was that? He could have meant it literally, but can I do that? Can I convince this woman into letting me live here by talking to her with my mind?
I need to get her talking, preferably about something she likes. She needs to be distracted enough that my "thoughtful" concentration can be mistaken for interest. I mentally hit myself for not paying more attention to the room when I'd entered. This stupid human face has my eyes located awkwardly in the front, making observations to the sides of me painfully obvious. Her eyes stare bleaker at me, it takes me a moment to realize that she wants me to verbally apply for a room. This could work. I glance around around the room, gathering my thoughts.
Everything is old, everything is covered in dust, forgotten. Someone else must've bought these things, and she merely lives with them. The only pictures are of paintings done by someone whose talent was never going to be called exceptional. Rugs cover the floor, riddled in stains that have long lost the original scent of the cause. The only thing that she had any sort of attachment to was the chair she sits in now. Her hands are covered in scars, but old and faded, the woman can't be more than 70, and that's pushing it. So at one point she had worked hard, and came into money? There's no love lost between her and any possible family, except for the paintings, those had to be done by someone she'd once been fond of. Hm... maybe...
"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice." I look down at my hands and glance up at her sheepishly. "My parent's abandoned me you see, they moved out while I was at work, and I've lost the job due to being homeless." I pull the buttoned shirt enough to show the hole the bullet had caused.
"Nobody wants someone whose only clothes look like this to work for them."
Her face screws up, I can feel negativity building in her thoughts, she about to start a tirade. I'm sorry for lying to you human, and I apologize in advance if me meddling in your mind causes adverse effects. I gently push into her mind, images and the sounds of violent yelling swirl around in her mind. I can see her mouth has started to move. An argument with some sort of guardian, over a child. Bright eyes, warm course hands. More fighting, a door shutting, the eyes are crying. Someone's died, I follow that thought thread deeper into her mind, the pain from this loss has a hint of subconscious guilt. A young lover, one bright eyes had seen her with, the older man coughs into his tea when she nonchalantly mentions it while the woman sits down to eat. She glances at the man accross from her, she can still feel the lips of the other woman. More guilt, I follow that deeper in. I think this might be her core, every thought is generated from this place, this one core memory. Soft hands clasping, giggles that are cut short by a woman's iron grip wrenching them apart.
This is so invasive, I can feel my tear ducts pinching painfully, please forgive me for seeing to much. I speak to this part of her inner self.
'I will let him stay, I will pity him and let him stay. His choices were made for him.'
I recede out of her brain, careful not to disturb anything else on my way out, and catch her last sentence.
"That being said, young man, I will let you stay." She sighs, 'I can't abandon him, I know what that feels like to well.' She thinks to herself. I heave a sigh of relief, it worked, and lower my face into my hands. She gets up and pats my shoulder with pity, her voice is gentler now. "That doesn't mean you get to live here rent free, you need to get a job, I'll talk to one of the other tennents here, she had mentioned her part time job was hiring seasonal." She leans into comforting me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders,
"Take this month to get yourself together, after that, you need to get a job, okay?" I can hear the soft smile on her lips through her voice. She's being so kind, I feel extremely guilty for having tricked her, my face twists into anguish over the morality of what I've just done. I look up into her eyes, and they soften even more at the pain in mine. "Now there's enough of that." She coes,
"Rest up, then job, okay?" She reiterates.
"Okay." My voice cracks. I am a horrible person.
She smiles warmly, "Now, the only room I have left is the show room, it's the second door on the third floor, come, I'll show you the way." She squeezes my shoulder and stands upright.
The older woman leads me back out into the hallway and in front of a door with a pin code and speaker. She taps in the code slowly, saying each number out loud.
"Did you get that sweety?" She asks as she pulls open the door.
"Uhm," I clear my throat, "Y-yeah, I did."
No need to tell her that I photographic memory, I can see she still plans on writing it, the rooms floor and my room's key down on a piece of paper to slip under my door. The stairs are difficult for her, I want yo offer my hand to help steady her, but from what I saw, getting help from other people is insulting. The second floor has a wooden vinyl flooring in front of the door, the door itself painted a faded turquoise. She caries on without a pause to the third floor, the vinyl is grey and spotted, the door is a light yellow. With her plan to write down the code anyway, her fingers fly over the keys, and the door's deadbolts open with audible effort.
The hallways floor is the same as the flooring outside the door, the walls are painted a light blue, the window frames are the same color as the door. Screens glow from behind the glass, mimicking a homey countryside. My heart tightens, and the wind is nocked from my chest. I can feel my blood getting hot. The placement of the windows, I've seen it somewhere before. As fast as I was beset by bewildering dread, it's gone, and I can breath again. The walls remain where they are, my blood is cooling, but the memory. Like feeling a strange hair in my mouth, the sensation lingers.
The older woman has gotten ahead of me, and is shoving my door open. Whoever painted had unknowingly made it easy for the door to lodge in place by over painting the frame.
"This is it, go on in and get comfy, we'll sign paperwork after you can give me the down payment for the place."
I look into her wrinkled eyes, warm with kindness and manage a nod. Words are currently beyond me.
She closes the door behind me, trusting that I will be able to find everything myself. I stand for a moment in the room, the furniture is gold, a thick red rug covers the floor in the living room, it's an open concept, so the kitchen with it's black laminant tops and chrome appliances are visible as well. Finally alone, I strip out of my human clothes, and place them on the black plastic table.
I don't know if I'll be able to turn human again if I change back. I'll see it as accepting punishment for how truly low I have stouped today and curl up under the duve of the fluffy bed. From it's buoyancy, I'd guess the mattress is filled with feathers. I practice breathing, and stare at the wall from a hole I created with the edges of the duve.