Fragmented Dreams

Chapter 2: Small Mountain Town

The harsh buzzer of the alarm on my phone trilled loudly, rousing me from my fitful dreams. I awoke suddenly, full of unease due to my lack of sleep. It had been a long week of insomnia and last-minute homework assignments so I wasn't feeling my best. It seemed like our teachers were pushing us even harder for our senior year, especially now that everyone was heading towards that college goal line. I jerked my head upwards as the alarm continued to play, slowly assessing where I was. It appeared that I had fallen asleep at the kitchen table yet again. The alarm had woken me mid-dream as the veil was slowly being lifted from my face, which was not a terrible place to end my slumber.

I quickly checked my phone notifications to find a few messages in my group chat with my two best friends, Zola and Sunita. They were asking if I finished the homework to which I responded in the positive before switching to the camera on my phone for a quick second to assess my makeup. Falling asleep in random places usually meant a smudge or two so I tended to nervously check after each nap. In the camera app, I inspected my face, examining all of my familiar features. My dark grey-blue eyes stared back at me, complete with my trademark under-eye circles and thick furrowed eyebrows. I pulled down on my lower eyelids, massaging the deep crescent moon bruises that betrayed my secrets. Dedicated makeup sessions could ease the problem, but I had grown tired of the routine. At some point, I decided to embrace my undead/goth vibe and got really good at putting on smoky eyeshadow. My naturally deep black hair had that pretty kind of vintage curl, that was only a result of me meticulously setting my hair in curlers each night. Any activity I could do was a welcome relief from the endless loop of cryptic dreams that awaited me in my sleep. I found that if I neglected my hair care routine, I would end up with a tangled frizzy mess, so I tended to stay on top of it. Once on accident, I had cut my bangs too short and found I loved the look. So now I take great care to curl them atop my head each morning in a cute retro style. I've been told I look like Bettie Page if she never slept. I was always a skinny kid, growing up, mostly due to my lack of interest in eating and the health problems that came from not sleeping. But I am happy to report that I have long since filled out since my skinny childhood days. I now enjoy the sight of my slightly pudgy stomach, soft curves, and thick thighs. I joked often to my friends that I had a Botticelli body, a famous painter known for drawing curvier women.

I turned my face left and right in the mirror checking for any smudged makeup or wild hairs that needed tweezing but found I was safe for the moment.

"Good enough!" I proclaimed to an empty house, as my grandfather had left to tend the orchard many hours ago. Grandpa George, aka George Hartmann, was my savior. He was a good friend of my parents and the one who battled the foster care system for years until he could adopt me. He gave me the first real home I ever had and for that, I would be forever grateful.

We lived together on a farm just outside of our small mountain town called Mandeville. Grandpa was famous for his apples, which we sold out of every Fall, peddling them at the local farmers market and to all the stores nearby. His ability to grow almost anything meant he had a second job as a consultant, making his way from farm to farm locally, giving out advice for a small fee.

I turned off my phone, tucking it back in my skirt pocket until it was needed again. I wasn't quite ready to rush out the door as I was enjoying my lazy morning. I let out a small satisfied sigh, glancing around at my surroundings. I loved our kitchen. It was the smallest part of the house but the most vibrant and inviting. There were bright pops of color everywhere, especially from our retro-style, yellow refrigerator, and the brightly painted green cabinets. Everything else in the room was a mismatch of different colored woods and random paint colors due to my grandfather expanding his home over the years, without much care for style. Since my arrival ten years ago I had added a few pieces of decoration here and there, mostly artwork or photos for the wall. I always complained about wanting more cooking appliances but with limited counter space and a lack of electric outlets, we had to make do with a microwave and a tiny toaster. The kitchen table was small, seating up to four people at a time as long as they didn't mind eating elbow to elbow. The table was crammed in the only available open space which was next to the bay window. I loved to sit for hours and stare out the window into our front yard. It was my go-to spot for homework, that was for sure.