Seed

2

Skylar
     My eyes open in an unfamiliar place, though I know I've been here before. I slowly pick my head off of the hospital bench, and register the bright white lights, and bustling building. Ammonia burns and nips at my nostrils, leaving a nastily clean scent in my nose, which I don't quite enjoy. Groggily, I straighten up my back, remembering my moms lectures about posture. I look down at my wrist to find a single black line etched in. First death.
"Hi there, do you need anything?" A nurse questions. I shake my head, not quite looking at her due to the bright lights burning my poorly prepared retinas.
"The phone is just down the hall if you need it, and if you need a transportation pass, just see the lady in purple at the front desk." She smiles encouragingly at me, and I try my best to manage one in return. I thank her, and slowly stand up and walk over to the phone. Hopefully my dad wasn't freaking out too badly. I pick up the older looking phone, attached to a spiraled chord that looks as if it should be a decoration on a Christmas present. I dial his number, almost forgetting one of the digits. Listening to the phone line ring after ring and anticipating his answer was like waiting for food in your favorite restaurant when everyone surrounding you has already been served.
"Skylar? Where are you? Are you okay?" My father sounds just as calm and collected as I hoped he would.
      "Northside hospital, I'm fine. I think I'll get a trans pass if that's alright with you." I tell him, slightly slurring my words.
"Alright. Stay safe." He hangs up the phone. I walk over to the front desk and eye the bus tickets.
"Hi sweetheart. What can I do for you?"
"I'd like a bus pass please." I muster my manners the best I can.
"Sure! What's your first and last name?
"Skylar Anderson." She types the letters on the keyboard briskly, but with only two fingers. She clicks a few buttons and prints out a small slip of paper that couldn't be bigger than her hand. She looks at it carefully, the smile never leaving her face, just to make sure that the information was correct. She hands it over to me, directing me to take a right as I left the hospital doors. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to recoup. To my surprise, it's dark outside. I take a right, and walk down to the bus stop. 3 minutes departure to Oak Highlands. I take a seat on the bench and wait for my bus. People slip and slide past my knees as they try to get to wherever they're going. I can't help but think of how complex each one of their lives are. Working bees, each to their own hive.
•••
The bus window was spattered with fog. The stars were still shining brightly in the sky, though the sunrise started to show its colors. The gradient from blue to orange was stunning. Still, it was not as perplexing as the small black line neatly drawn on my wrist. I should say permanently drawn, because it will never go away. The only thing I can do now is add more little black lines. Yet everything that is gained must have been taken from somewhere else. The next little black line I get, the next life I lose. The older woman sitting in the next seat across the isle from mine gives me an empathetic smile.
"You look parched, dear. What's worrying you?" She whispered, breaking the near silence. I considered lying to her. Though I knew I probably wouldn't see her again, so I decided to be somewhat honest.
"I'm just trying to get back home." I tell her, leaving out the more complex details. She eyes my wrist, and nods.
"Don't lose that," she figuratively shakes her finger in my face with that phrase. Lose it? How would I lose it?
"It can get lost. People will try to compete, or take that away from you. You might even try to take it away from yourself. Don't lose it." She must've seen my confusion, but my questions still stand unanswered. The bus slowly halts to a stop and the doors creak open. The woman picks up her purse and walks down the isle, out of the bus, and onto the sidewalk, not saying another word or even giving me one more glance. I turn my head back toward the front of the bus and furrow my eyebrows. Lost?
                                        •••
      My dad called me ten minutes ago telling me he got me Nutella. I'm still not sure if it was out of pity or if he ate the rest of my old jar and wanted to buy more before I got home. I contemplated this thought as I heavily breathed on the window to fog it up. I raced myself to see how fast I could draw on the glass, but the fog always won. My smiley faces remained disproportionate until it faded away, yet my fingerprints still littered the glass afterwards. I'm 90% sure that the man two seats in front of me thinks I'm practically insane, but at this point I'm not really entitled to care. Even though I lose time after time, I still put effort into making a smiley face on the window. I start to draw another one, using two hands this time, but the bus slows and stops beside a freshly cleaned sidewalk. I quickly swipe a somewhat curved shape in attempts to make a mouth, though the rest of it had faded away. I'm not sure if my legs were ready to stand or not, and I'm definitely regretting my decisions to do so, but I do my best to briskly walk down the isle and out into the sun's domain. I walk down the the street and up the pea gravel driveway leading to my father's house. I knock on the door, since my keys are in my locker at school. My dad opens the door, and when he does, I sigh in relief. He takes my hand and pulls me into the house, and into his arms. I quit worrying for a moment in time and melt into his reassuring embrace.
•••