Anonymous Pt2

Fact: Flying fish can take to the air at 37 mph.


Shhhhh. DD! I hear something.


Jrrr, jrrr, jrrr…Click


Creeeeeak.


“Alriiiight!” exclaims a debatably east coast accent from around the corner. “The key still works.”


Post an anxious glance at Jawafra, you rake papery fingers through your lengthy hair, taking care to cover your e- I mean, your face. You pull white-framed spectacles from your left hip pocket and your eyelids flutter as the world comes into view. The walls are so dark and narrow, it’s almost like peering through a telescope.


There’s a woman in the doorway. You recognize her to be Tabitha’s…daughter? Niece? No - goddaughter. Yes, didn’t Tabitha raise her best friend’s little girl for a time? You’d been with Tabitha for years and never once did you see this kid come round. Why is she here now? Cleaning or further cluttering? Or maybe claiming bits and bobbles? There’s certainly enough cactus paraphernalia to go around.


Ooop. Step back. Bull in a china shop. I wonder, what’s her rush?


“Sour Patch!” cheers the woman, her entire face swallowed by a cupboard. She reaches in a few more times. Cereal, gherkins and crisps. (Oh, whoops, I mean “pickles and chips.” 15 years in the US and I’m still baffled. Modern American English is absolutely absurd! I was just getting current with the colloquialisms back home.)


What is this young woman’s name? Jordan? Jenna? Jinxy? I like the name Jinxy. Let’s go with that for now.


You notice how Jinxy looks…off, somehow? She looks… calmly bruised. You know? Puffy eyes, well-kept locs. Shaky breathing, steady hands. She’s whistling. Sad people don’t whistle, right? Well, if experience has taught us anything, it’s that grievers are unpredictable.


Jinxy carries her plunder into the livingroom, and sets up a gaming console. You know it’s a Playstation 2. The game, however, is unfamiliar to you. She must’ve brought it along. Everything you know about videogames comes from Tabitha. When she wasn’t writing, she was teaching you the difference between an MMORPG and a Hack & Slash…or are they called Beat ‘em Ups? Are dungeon crawlers and walking simulators the same thing?


***


After three hours of shifting your gaze between the gamer and the screen, your impatience makes an appearance.


Predictable you are, predictable you will always be.


You place a hand on Jinxy’s forehead as you glare at the television.


A few glitches and a corrupted save file later, Jinxy’s eyes blaze.


“WHY?!” shouts Jinxy as she hurls the wired controller across the room. The attached console twists and teeters over the edge of the television stand. Jinxy hurls herself on the floor to catch it and yelps. Once the console is safely returned, she inspects her right knee and growls. Yikes. Rug burn.


She gets up and paces. Our injured guest now appears to have new eyes for this rundown two-bedroom stack of bricks.


The floors squeak beneath her slippered stomps. It’s been a while since you’ve heard the comforting sound of footsteps.


Jinxy balls her fists and further explores the house. She reaches out for the doorknob to Tabitha’s study and hears something crash in the next room over.


Nice work, DD. You’re becoming quite the Foley artist.


Jinxy flings open Tabitha’s bedroom door and marches in. A knee to a sharp-cornered brass end table shifts her attention in the right direction. Perfect. She’s on the floor fanning her re-troubled knee.


Give her a moment. You got Jenna Bromberg’s attention in a similar fashion.


While still on the floor, Jinxy scans the room. I wonder how much has changed since she lived here. Were the walls always this cluttered? Rows and rows of travel memorabilia take up almost every inch. Framed maps, signed post cards… images with friends. There’s even a picture of you up there, but I assume Realities only see a subjectless and semi-blurry cityscape. What a wonderful trip to San Francisco that was.


Ahem. I digress.


Jinxy grips the foot of the pillow-encumbered bed and pulls herself up.


She steps on your brother.


She picks him up, another mixed expression on her face. Is she angry/curious Annoyed/fearful? Regretful/uncertain?


Whatever expression that is floats away like dandelion seeds in summer wind as she flips through Jawafra’s copper-red pages. You smile as your brother glows the way he always does when he’s netted you an anchor. Oh, gosh, praises be! How on earth did he know to wait here? Never mind that. Go, DD! Speak!


“Hello,” you say.


You’d think after 100 years, a creature would get good at something.


Jinxy seems not to notice you. Try again and this time, use more words.


“Hello…there.”


Sigh. Not the greatest but at least she’s looking up. She’s no idea where the voice is coming from, the poor mortal. Are we standing behind her? Switch glasses. Ooop. Yes. Ok, walk all the way arou-


“WHOA!” Jinxy shouts while pulling Jawafra close to her side. “What the heck?!”


Protective instincts. Good.


You laugh and give a slight bow. “There’s no need to hide my brother from me.”


And it all goes downhill from there. At least, for me it does. I had to sit there listening to the two of you drone on and on for what felt like hours. She mistakes you for a fellow former ward of Tabitha Boone. She offers you a handshake. You instead give her a meek nod. She offers you some food. You pass on that as well.


She gives you her name, Annigan (RIP Jinxy). She offers you Tabitha’s bedroom to crash in while she takes the couch. You are so stunned by someone - a Reality no less - treating you like a regular person…or better yet, a valuable person, you forget to tell her you’re imaginary. You forget to request her as an anchor. You rest your head in Tabitha’s room and for the first time in a long time, you dream. Pleasant dreams about friends of all sorts. A horned maiden and a wizard beard. Giggling eels and a dainty giraffe.


When you wake up the next morning, the house is tidy, save a box of cereal with a bowl and spoon on the kitchen table. You sit and pretend to eat, if only to have the pleasure of what it must feel like to receive that sort of care.


That’s nice and all, right? Heartwarming, I assume. So then riddle me this, DD. How is it that an entire day has passed and your new friend is nowhere to be found? And um…where did your brother go?

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