STALKER

Chapter 76 - 31 July

Standing in the tub washing off the imagined grim and smells of Venice from my body I thought about how it was only last night I lay in the same bath, with Weirdo in my arms. It was hard to believe we'd made out. We had been moving in that direction but now that it's happened it feels like a dream, that it was days ago, not yesterday. The jump has totally disorientated me and I feel out of place, disconnected. I'd spent several hours walking around like a phantom and now I'm back...ordinary Timothy Morrison.

I scrubbed my skin till it was red but everything about the jump clung to me. Getting dressed in clean clothes lifted my spirits somewhat, it was a step closer to normality. But the moment I lost focus while making lunch or doing any other chore I instantly fell back to thoughts of Gizelle my Venetian air freshener, or the most amazing sunrise I'd ever seen, or relive being enchanted by the play of light in the Basilica and how it illuminated the domes. If this is what I am like after my first jump, what will I be like by the last?

My previous jumps left me emotionally drained but this was different. If I was honest there was a tiny, very tiny part of me that wanted to stay a lot longer. I'd never been tempted before. It was an unsettling thought.

Back downstairs I looked for Granddad, we need to talk soon but he wasn't showing his face. I made my usual pot of coffee, which was step two of getting back to normal. I grabbed the tote bag I'd left on the stairs and went to my room to check out the little treasures I'd brought back.

Being in my room grounded me out until I light up and I remembered Gizelle and her cupid bow lips tentatively taking the first puffs of her cigarette. She ooowwed and aaahed when she got the nicotine tingles. The buzz seemed to distract her long enough for us to sit in peace without any of her shrieking or embarrassing abuse of other customers. She was terrifyingly committed to her gnaga role.

I dropped all the coins and ingots in a bowl. 5 ingots, left 2 lire and 40 soldi. I piled up the reels of lace and the little mirror, I had forgotten about both. I felt around the bottom of the tote for the silver band and got a pleasant buzz when my fingertips found it. I pulled it out and put it on my thumb. It was a lovely simple thing, a man's ring. The engraving was crude but you could clearly see that it was a dragon around the band, a small cross where the head and tail meet.

I stroked it and closed my eyes. I wasn't overwhelmed by images like other objects I'd tried to read. It appeared to have had no previous owner. It did vibrate. It felt like a child, a playful child. It made me feel good, I had a sudden urge to laugh, but nothing else, not a single memory was attached to it. After a moment one of mum's favourite cheesy phrases came to mind and it described the ring perfectly. The ring "was made with love". That is what I was feeling, the joy of the maker and his pleasure at creating the ring. When I first saw it I thought it would be a nice souvenir for Weirdo, I'm glad I bought it.

The miniatures were roughly wrapped in a cloth but they had survived the trip back in one piece. I used my torch to get a closer  look  now that my mask was off. Originally I thought I would sell them but I think they will stay with me. The more I looked at them the more I saw the incredible detail, minuscule windows that the painter managed to fill with shadows and specks of light, smudges that somehow looked like people. I stared at the little treasures for a long time, caught up in my memories again.

The last things I pulled out were a couple of small candles and a tiny cross. Even these little things made me hold my breath. As I gently rolled them in my palms I realised I was drifting back to my hours in Venice. I had to go back soon....tomorrow.

.....

I had to force myself to do chores around the house, call my Boss, and my mum....ordinary stuff to ground me in the present. I hung the cape outside to air because the smell coming off it was driving me nuts.