search_for_sane2.txt
Chapter 1
I awake a few minutes before my alarm goes off from some half-assed attempt at a dream. I can't help but feel that my subconscious is becoming increasingly lazy and self-serving lately. I have to turn my alarm off before it goes o...and then I hear it, a rustling sound coming from the corner of my room. The purple imp is at it again; I can see his little red socks poking out of my book bag. The little bastard didn't fall for my decoy notes today. He loves to devour my homework and always has, especially algebra, I think he likes the crunch. "HUMPH!" I clear my throat loudly, making him freeze mid-backpack raid. He slowly turns towards me, all the color draining from his face and I point to him, making my best scary-angry-mean face. He yelps loudly, grabs a few more notes from my bag and runs off to the back of my closet, disappearing into the tear in the space-time continuum behind my shoe organizer. I yawn deeply, groggily pull myself out of bed, and walk stiffly towards the bag to assess the damage. Nothing serious, just a few old history notes with nibbled edges are scattered about and few notes taken from the book are missing. I think the imp is coming down with something, he hasn't been eating much lately and he did look a little pal--BEEEEEP!! BEEEEEP!! BEEEEEP!! BEEEEEP!! I jump at the sudden loud, angry screams of my alarm clock informing me that it is now time to wake up. Damn! I forgot to turn it off! I clumsily fumble with it, dropping it a couple of times until I finally shut off the stupid alarm.
I pack up my project from the night before and take one last, long look at it before I turn it in. It's my first project since I've been back in school. I can't help but feel nervous. It turned out well, but I think I could have done just a bit better. I'm not happy with some of the colors, especially that bit in the corner--I shouldn't have made it so dark. Slinky flutters up to me, landing on my shoulder and nuzzling my hair. He chirps at me and I scratch his chin. "I know Slinky, you helped me out a lot and you look great--you and Tom both--thank you. Will you thank Tom for me again when he wakes up?" Slinky nods and smiles at me, at least the closest thing to a smile a blue and yellow checkered, mini-pterodactyl can get.
I suddenly remember the concept of time and quickly steal a glance at my clock. 7:15. Crap! I'm time warping again! I grab my undies and rush to the bathroom before Jeff wakes up. If he gets there first, then all hope is lost. I speed walk past Jeff's room. I can hear him rustling around behind the closed door. Just in the nick of time! I throw on the light and fan in the bathroom and shut the door just as I hear his door open and slam shut rather violently. Someone's not a happy camper this morning. They must be fighting again. Come to think of it, I do remember a lot of slamming and stomping from the night before...
I tie up my hair and take a quick rinse. I'll wash my hair later tonight, when I have more time. The warm water feels nice. I watch as the water droplets romance each other, grow fat, bear children, and pay the mortgage before careening to an untimely death down the drain and play with my boobs a bit, before I re-discover the concept of time. I quickly rinse, shut off the water, and grab my towel to dry off. I can see Reflection's towel flailing wildly through the steamy mirror out of the corner of my eye. I wave a quick hello to her through the mist as I finish drying and get dressed. I crack the door to let out some of the steam. As Reflection's out line solidifies, we both begin to put on a little bit of make-up, just a bit of eyeliner and mascara. I wore make-up last night and it's either go to school all day with leftover, smudged eyeliner or take a few minutes to touch it up and look decent for the day. The last thing I want is to run into Ronnie with coon eyes from last night. I don't want him to think I'm taking this whole thing too har...we both pause as a low "moooooooaaaaan" followed by a series of loud, sharp noises "Eh-Eh-EhEEEEEn! Eh-Eh-Eheeeeeeeeen! Eh-Eh-Eh!"like a frightened parrot gasping for breath, comes from behind the door. Reflection and I look at each other. She raises an eyebrow as I face-palm. "Sounds like she's at it again," says Reflection. "Tell me about it! That must've been one hell of a fight last night," I say. We both sigh deeply and brush our teeth. We wave goodbye, "Good Luck!" she says as I walk out. "You too! See you when I pee," I say shutting off the light and opening the door all the way.
I'm shocked to find that Jeff isn't waiting for me outside of the bathroom. And the moaning has re-located itself downstairs, it would appear. I'm relieved and worried by this. There might be a chance I can make it out of this whole thing totally unscathed after all. Wishful thinking, true, but I have to Hope, Damn it! I tip toe back to my room trying not to make a sound. This is where I am most vulnerable. If she hears that I've come out of the shower, she may come upstairs and corner me in my room. Then she'll make me open up my portfolio and drag out all of my art so she can "see them" before pulling me into whatever crazy rant she's planning on pulling me into today and I'll be twice as late. And he's so pissy when I'm late. Along the way to my room, I notice that Jeff's door has been left wide-open. My mind pauses for a moment to process this new information. Something's wrong here. I look in and see that all of his blankets are in a giant wad on the floor, his mattress is overturned, his dresser drawers are all torn open with their contents spilling out and thrown every which way--even his empty metal waste basket is turned on its side in disgust. Great, I sigh deeply, this has "Mom" written all over it and there will be hell to pay tonight when Jeff comes home. Maybe I can crash with Mandi, though I would have to put up with Erin. Its a coin flip, really.
I grab my stuff quickly and slink downstairs. Gently, I take one careful step at a time, avoiding the creak in the fourth step and the leprechaun that lives on nine and ten. He recently expanded. My legs aren't long enough to step past his lawn though, so my sock lands squarely in fresh sod. Ewwwww. Great, now I have to go through the day with a wet-sock. The leprechaun runs out, shaking his arm at me. Before he can curse me, I raise on finger to my lip, "Shhhhh." He doesn't say anything, but he glares at me, folding his arms and chewing on his corn cob pipe. I mouth a quick "sorry," reach into my pocket and hand him three shiny pennies and a some what weathered quarter. He glares at me and slowly goes back inside, pausing just long enough to point two fingers at his eyes and then back at me before slamming his little door. Oh, great, he just gave me the I'm-watching-you hand signal. That's the last thing I need, trouble with the leprechaun again. Somehow, despite my run-in with Dingus, I manage to reach the bottom without making a sound. Flawless; I pat myself on the back for just a second. But focus Damn it! We might've won the battle, but there's a war on and we've come too far to get sloppy now!
At the bottom of the stairs, I can see most of living room and most of the kitchen/dining room just past the hallway. Stretched between the two rooms (and in fact, into many other rooms as well) is a very large, very long, very red, very, very sleepy sea-serpent. His name is Thomas. All though he usually goes by Tom, and sometimes Tommy when I feel like ribbing him just a bit. Tom is sound asleep. I can't blame him after last night's work. I would love to thank him, but it would be rude to wake him now. Also, sea-serpent's breath, which isn't the most pleasant of smells to begin with, is twice as brutal first thing in the morning. But Tom's breath isn't what I'm worried about right at the moment--or even his teeth for that matter. What I'm worried about is sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing uncontrollably into her coffee.
Ok, calm down...take a deep breath and access the situation. Mom is facing the window over the sink, no doubt watching the bird-feeders, or pretending to while she whimpers and waits for me like doom. Her back is turned to the refrigerator. On top of that refrigerator, are my delicious "Crunchy Peanut Butter" breakfast bars. My mouth drips. Focus! Ok, so the game plan so far: climb over the sleeping sea-serpent, tip-toe across the hallway, sock-skate quickly across the linoleum kitchen floor, swipe the whole box of breakfast bars (too risky to go after just one and the wrapper might crinkle), shuffle to the coat room, throw on my cute slide-on shoes (the ones with the little green duckies and pink bunnies <3), and out the door with a quick "Bye Mom," so she can't be pissed at me later.
The sea-serpent's expanding and contracting torso comes roughly to my waist. There's no way I'll be able to climb over him with my portfolio case, book bag, and purse all in toe. Not if I want to reach the other side silently. By now Mom is patiently waiting for me. That means she's listening. And no sound, no matter how small, no matter how tiny or insignificant, will escape those mom ears. First things first, I quietly and gently set everything down. My portfolio case should go over first. I can prop it up against the other side of Tom. I grunt quietly to myself as I pick up my half-full portfolio case. My teeth nibble my lip as I slowly raise it above Tom's heaving mid-section and gently, soundlessly prop it up on the other side of him. I stuff my purse into an open side pocket of my book bag and secure my book bag to my back. I move down a few feet from where I propped my portfolio case. I don't want to knock it over when I crawl to the other side. I make sure I have a firm foot hold before I throw my leg over. This may be tricky since I'm wearing socks. I'd take them off, but it's chilly outside and I won't have time to put them back on before I leave. I make sure my foot is completely on the floor rug buried beneath Tom. The hard wood floors, though pretty, are really slippery in socks under the best conditions. I take a deep breath, brace myself with both hands on Tom's back and slowly, gently lift my left leg, swinging it over Tom as though I'm mounting a horse. As I situate myself on top of the giant sea-serpent, I push myself gently with my right leg. I am now suspended wholly on Tom's back. His red shiny scales are cool and smooth under my hands. As I look to my left, I realize there is no carpet to plant my left foot for the dismount. Shit. I'm gonna have to wing it and hope I don't fall. I carefully set my left foot evenly on the floor. I try to pull it as close to the sea serpent as possible to get the best foot hold. I think this is the best I can do under these circumstances. I slowly begin to pull my other foot over Tom's back. Slowly, carefully now-focus! Good--gooood, just a little more...just a li--FUCK! OH SHIT! My foot is slipping, my hands tightly cling to Toms back--FUCK O FUCK O FUCK FUCK SHIT O FUCK SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK FUC--my foot reaches the other side safely and I regain my composure. Whew, that was close. My heart's pounding so hard I'm afraid Mom's going to hear it. I quickly retrieve my portfolio case and tip-toe across the hall. I can hear some shuffling coming from down stairs. Eric must be awake, but knowing him, it's probably just to pee before going back to sleep. On days like today, I envy him, lucky little bastard. I quietly peek around the entrance to the kitchen. Mom is still sobbing to herself. I can hear a pill bottle rattle as she tosses her head back. Oh, great. There's no telling what she's on today and I don't want to stick around long enough to find out. I look up at the clock. 7:37. Im running a few minutes behind, but there's still a chance I can make it. It's now or never! I sock skate as quickly as I can to the fridge. My eyes never leave Mom until I have to reach up for the orange box of delicious breakfast bars. Orange is the peanut butter color for some reason. I stand on my tip toes. My finger tips nudge the box. Almost. I can just barely reach them. My fingers finally find their grip around the box and I slowly, gently pull them down, avoiding all the papers clinging to the fridge under various magnets. As soon as I get them down, my full attention goes right back to my mother. No time to waste--I shuffle as quickly as I can across the floor. Almost there. I toss my glance forward. I can see inside the shoe closet. I can see the sunlight seeping through the front door window. I'm at the door already. I can see my shoes patiently waiting for me. I pick up my foot to step in--I did it--I'm home free--I made i--"Maggie? Maggie, are leaving already?" Fuck. My heart drops into my stomach. This must be what it feels like to accidentally step into quicksand. I look back at my mother sitting at the table. She hasn't moved from before. "Aren't you even going to say hello to me? Or do you...hate me too no...nnooaaaw..www ?" Shit. That's it--game over. There's no escaping now. If I leave now she'll take it personally, which means God knows when she"ll let it go--if ever. "Oh, Hi Mom," I say cheerfully, walk over to her and rub her back in concern. She has a full cup of coffee on the table already laid out for me. God Damn it. "No, Mom, I don't hate you. I was just in a hurry and I didn't see you there, honest. I love you. I just have to get going or Im going to be late aga--"
"Jeff is a real cunt and I don't know what to do about it. I think he's fucking around on me--look at this! Look what I found in our HOME! The home that we share, that we built together on a foundation of love and trust and he brings some cheap slut floozy in here!! I came home last night and the whole damn house reeked of cheap hooker perfume. That bastard! Look at this! LOOK!! I found these tucked away under the bathroom sink!" She waves something pink at me. I can't get a good look until she throws the pink thing on the table. I recognize them instantly. They are a pair of giant pink spandex underwear. They are apart of a set.
"Mom, those are mine! I was looking for those!" I grab them quickly from the table and shove them in my book bag. They are not mine, but I try to sound as convincing as I can. Telling this woman the truth is hard enough, but lying to her--almost impossible. Mom's blood-shot eyes narrow at me.
"You don't have to cover for him. I don't appreciate you taking his side over your own mother. Our family unit is about to break apart because he's the one trying to smash it, and you're taking HIS side? Why does everyone hate m...meee...eeeeee?" she sobs.
Shit. I sit down at the table. "Mom, I'm not lying to you--they're mine. I wore them for Halloween, and well, Im a little ashamed to admit it, but I had just a bit too much to drink and forgot them under the sink while I was looking for my make-up remover." Eric, you seriously owe me one, you asshole. "And the smell was also my fault. I was working with pastels last night and I had to spray it with a fixative. I would have taken them outside, but it was raining and I didn't want to risk it. I opened the windows to my room and had the fan going, but I guess it wasn't enough. Sorry. Next time I'll take them to the garage to spray them."
Her eyes widen just a bit and she drops her glare. I can see the gears turning in her head. She's processing the information I have just given her--filtering it through her mind sieve, disregarding the things she doesn't agree with and picking out the tiny little things she can twist and mold into something that fits her rational more comfortably. The whole process reminds me of a hot dog factory. She takes in the raw pork of my words, processes it through the twisted mechanics of her mind and turns it into semi-truth hot dogs and bologna--preserving only a small fraction of the pork (forever) so she can feed it back to me at a later time saying "but that's what you said." "Well, I guess that makes sense," she says finally, after a pause, "but I still think something's up. You're hiding something. He's never touched you inappropriately has he?" She eyes me suspiciously.
"What? Are you serious? No! Gross Mom! Jeff has never made a pass at me, now or at any other time in the seventeen some years I've known the man! Why does your mind always go there? Ewwww." It's too late, the thought of naked Jeff explodes with shrapnel in my mind and makes me cringe. He's old, short with really skinny, pale, varicose vein filled legs and a back that supports more hair than his oddly shaped, potato-esk, head. "Look, Mom--I have to get out of here. I'm already running late and I have to meet what's-his-face, you know...the school counselor guy. As much as I would love to stay and finish this conversation, I don't want to be any later or he'll make me reschedule. I love you, bye!" I kiss her on the cheek, grab all my stuff and step in to my slip on shoes. I flee as quickly as my legs will carry me. I stop half-way to my car and run back inside. Mom has already left the table and I spy the orange box. Grabbing two breakfast bars, I throw my glance upwards to the clock. 7:53. Fuck.
I start my little green-blue beater Buick and begin to time warp again. Suddenly I'm pulling into a decent space in my school's parking lot. My car's digital clock tells me that it is 11:07but it's 3 hours fast and 8 minutes slow. I have completely missed my opportunity for a simple watch tap--I now must brace myself for the full "Punctuality is the Key that Opens the Door to Success" lecture. As I quickly grab my stuffed book bag and my portfolio case and my purse with my peanut butter breakfast bars (heaven), I am reminded once again of just how stupid this whole ugly mess is. My mind latches on to the idea and suddenly I'm back at the hospital. Everything's white and mint green and smells like sterile death. The doctor is standing at the foot of my bed with my mother. Mom is hysterical--even more than usual. They talk about me like I'm not there. They won't let me explain. Why won't they just let me explain? I keep talking, but they don't even acknowledge me. Then the doctor asks her a really stupid question. I violently push the image away from my mind, but it's too late. My stomach is filled with dread and shock as I relive every emotion anyway. Im so sick of replaying the scene over and over in my head. I jog/walk inside the building, all of my books slamming me in the back like a heavy-handed, overzealous gym teacher and catch a semi-crowded elevator to the third floor: human resources.
The bitter taste of disdain rises up in the back of my throat as I pass the wall of crappy motivational posters that leads to his office. There's one with a whale tail and some other one with an eagle; some BS about reaching potential and diversity. I instantly spy him standing by his open-propped door, arms crossed in his ugly red-power tie/blue sweater vest combo, tapping his foot impatiently. His brown, neatly trimmed but slightly asymmetrical mustache/goatee mouth ring twitches in agitation at his watch. His name is Dave or Bill or something generic like that--I don't really remember and I don't really care to. I suppose I should cut him some slack, but I hate him out of principal. He thinks he has me pegged so he doesn't listen to anything I actually say to him and the school won't let me move back into student housing until he clears me. And he won't clear me until... Ugh! My brain hurts. I slow down a bit, pausing for just a moment. I take a deep breath, savoring the moments before he notices me and our "session" starts. His dark, squinty little eyes meet mine. "Ah, Miss Wheeler, how nice of you to drop by for our appointment," his words are oozing with annoyance. I know he's really pissed with me when he pulls out the "Miss Wheeler."
"Sorry Im late. I had a family situation I had to deal with this morning," I say as I drag all of my crap into his dinky closet-sized office.
"For the sake of time and to save myself some breath, I'll spare you my lecture on punctuality today." Oh, thank God--finally some luck! "But that does not mean that I condone your tardiness. My time is just as valuable as yours is, Miss Wheeler and I expect you to respect that when we meet again Wednesday. Now with that being said, why don't you start this morning with today's family situation?" I can feel the pull of time again. This time Im getting sucked into a praw emit to make up for the time warps from earlier. This is going to drag on forever. Also, there's a booger monster peaking out of Mr. Counselor's nose. He keeps waving at me every time the guy takes a breath.
"Well, the whole day's been kind of crap, if you really want to know. My imp is sick, the leprechaun was angry at me for stepping on his lawn and missing. He recently expanded in to a second stair and I try to step over him, but my legs just aren't long enough. And the sea-serpent passed out right in front of the stairs so I had to...um...a..."
Mr. Counselor is glaring at me, completely un-amused. He takes a deep frustrated sigh, making the booger monster shake his ass wildly at me. "We have been through this routine before, Maggie. I am here to help you get better, but I can not do that until you cut the jokes and get serious about your mental health. Sooner or later, you're going to have to let me inside." He raises his index finger and gestures to my head.
"Ok," I say, "if you really want to know, my Mom thinks my step dad is cheating on her because she found a pair of my brothers underwear hidden underneath the bathroom sink. How much longer do I have to wait before I can move back into student housing?" The look on Mr. Counselor's face is priceless. He is completely dumbfounded. Even his booger monster has stopped dancing to stare at me in consternation.
"Uh,Well..." I have completely caught him off-guard and it feels good, "as we've discussed, it's still entirely up to you. The first step is to become honest with yourself and everyone else around you about what happened. Right now, you are living in denial because you are afraid to admit the truth. Deep down, you are ashamed of yourself for what happened. You probably even have feelings of failure, which are perfectly normal after a.. um.. an unsuccessful attempt." There's that word again--that stupid word--the very bane of my existence, attempt. He acts as though cutting out what sort of attempt I supposedly made somehow negates the awkwardness of the present conversation. I roll my eyes and bury my face in my palm, "I did NOT try to kill myself." I turn my head and look up at the clock. 8:26. Ive only been here three minutes and it already feels like a century. Stupid praw emit
"So you just expect me to believe that this is all just some crazy coincidence?" He says, looking at me skeptically. The booger monster sticks out his tongue and makes faces at me, taunting me. I have never had such a powerful urge to hurt somebody before. I can't stand looking at him anymore. Instead I stare at the wall behind him.
A hostile, "Yes" is all I can manage. I am literally choking with rage. I can see him shaking his head in my peripheral vision. Why didn't I just pick up the bottle when it fell? Or couldn't I have at least taken the time to look when I heard it fall? Then I would have noticed that the cap had come off and this whole mess would have never happened. But I was in pain. I had a migraine from crying. I was tired--as tired as I thought I was capable of being. Ha! Why didn't I just wait for Mandi to call me back? Why did I spill my guts to Erin, of all people, and when I was most vulnerable no less? Suddenly, Erins chubby little face pops up in my mind's eye in full detail--her greasy curly brown hair, her little yellow teeth behind that stupid little gummy grin she has, and her big round lazy derpy eye. My anger intensifies. I close my eyes. I can feel the vein in my forehead pumping with blood. Why won't this nightmare end? Mr. Counselor is saying something long-winded now, trying to fill the fridgid silence. It's something along the lines of denial versus acceptance, but I have completely tuned him out at this point. I just want this conversation to end. I just want to move on with my day. I just want to move on with my life. Is that so much to ask?
"is the only way youll get better," I hear him say when I finally calm down enough to tune in again, "I want you to consider what I've said and we'll pick up from this point on Wednesday. And remember--8:00 a. m. sharp!" Now the booger monster is tangled in his mustache, struggling to break free from the stubble, completely exposed for the entire world to see. Not so cocky now, are you? I smile a little to myself and even say "bye" as I collect my things.
My stomach cries at me angrily--it's time to head to the student lounge where I can enjoy my hard-earned breakfast bars in peace. I reach to my pocket for my phone so I can send Mandi a message about tonight. That pocket is empty. I try the other. Nope, not there either. I step to the side of the hall and open my book bag. I rummage through it. Nothing. I dig through my purse, checking all the pockets, even the tiny side pockets. It's not there. Where did I put my phone? And then an image comes to my mind, something lost from the time warp. It's a vivid image of my cell phone sitting in the cup holder in my car. Crap! I would leave it down stairs--of course I would. Good job, Maggie! Way to go! I quickly pick up my stuff, turn back around--back towards the other set of elevators that lead to the parking lot--and run squarely into a giant, black wall, landing directly on my ass in a pile of books and papers. "Oh my God! Im so sorry! I didn't even see you there and I just was in a hurry and wasn't even paying attention and I just realized I completely forgot my cell phone in my car because that's the kind of day I'm having and I need it because my mom is crazy--but that's beside the point--are you okay?" I ramble clumsily to the shoe of the person sprawled on the ground in front of me. Im too flustered to make eye contact. I can feel my face getting hot. Im blushing like crazy as I start to frantically gather my things--especially my wits. It occurs to me that I didn't close my book bag before I stood up and that would probably explain why all of its contents are on the floor right now. My heart sinks. Thats it, I quit. I just stop and sit against the wall of the hallway. It's official, today sucks--really, really sucks. Right now, I am too exhausted to be embarrassed anymore.
I look up to find the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen is grinning at me, trying to stifle a laugh. I take back what I said about being embarressed. Praw emit hits me so hard, time stops. He is tall, even sitting down, with curly, dark, shaggy hair and olive skin tones. His smile is silky smooth and easy going like ripples in calm water. Before I know it, I'm lost in his eyes. They smile more than his lips and sparkle like amber held before a light. He has the friendliest face I have seen in months. His black T-shirt says Hired Goon on the front which makes me smile for the first time today. A little green fairy whizzes through my line of vision, makes kissy faces and sounds at me, elbows me and laughs wildly before buzzing around to my other ear.
With that, time starts again.