Adventures of the Cosmic Woman

Chapter Six

How did my life fit in here?

The old house seemed small and empty as Infield tiptoed through the kitchen to the living area. Years with Mahlia. Memories so big they feel like they're going to burst right out of her heart and yet somehow they all used to fit in this little space. Hardwood floors made steps loud. Infield used to wake up of a Sunday morning to the sound of those little feet padding down the hall and right into her room.

Mummy, I'll tell you what...

But she had nothing to say. Down the hall to the left was her room. So small! They still had her curtains with the colored circles and the cartoon zoo animals. Mahlia had names for all of them. The giraffe was looking up and seemed to be taking a bit out of the blue circle.

Bricky, Marsem, Batby...

What was the purple hippopotamus' name?

Infield grabbed the curtains in her arms and buried her face in them, searching for any scant trace of smell that might remind her of what this cold little room had entirely forgotten. But there was nothing. Acrid fabric shampoo. No Mahlia. No little girl.

Her bed had been was against the wall. Build in robe at the feet. Tiny little room... that woman she'd seen tonight would never have fit in there.

You assaulted him. Fuck knows what could happen now.

Tears filled Infield's eyes. She'd done the wrong thing, but not the thing that Mahlia was angry at her about. That was the right thing. They could sort out whatever consequences there were for that. The wrong thing was leaving Mahlia alone in this shit-fucking-hole the world had become.

Down the hall. Infield's bedroom.

I had a bad dream mummy.

Was it ever. A hand reached up from below the foot of Mahlia's bed. It was enough to scare her mummy as well... she'd been so small and cute she'd fit into Infield's bed and not bothered her at all. Except for the sharp kick in the back early the next morning.

All gone. All just empty little rooms now.

Infield walked back to the living area and stood in front of the old gas heater crammed in front of the bricked-up fireplace. In thirty-two years, they couldn't improve on that? It was a newer one. All stainless steel. Not the loud old box Darrian and Mahlia had lived with. The two of them.

Gone. All gone.

Infield sat against the wall opposite the heater like she had the night she'd first moved in. It had taken her two days to furnish the place. Four hours later, she'd entertained her first guest.

Fuuuu... it's cold outside.

He stood in front of the heater. Darrian was proud of her new home with the extra bedroom for an office space... before Mahlia.

I'll just rotisserie myself at your heater for a bit.

Why don't you let me warm you up?

She'd picked him up in line at an ATM. One of her more daring conquests, she'd always thought. Him and the guy at the gelateria in Venice. Three minutes. They never even ordered their ice creams.

Eventually Infield turned on the tablet. Scrolled though news posts. Maybe there was something in there that would help her understand this world she'd awoken into. They were all video entries. No written articles. Most of them were political, and of them most were by a journalist named Stephen Crest. She opened one.