The Coming | The House of Voices #2

Seven - Spinning

Spinning

When they finally stopped to take a rest, they found themselves at the edge of a park. Night had well and truly fallen upon them now and the roads were slowly starting to empty as people retreated into their homes for the night. Parish glanced at his wrist out of habit, wanting to check the time, and frowned when he realized that he hadn’t had the sense to wear a watch before they broke out of Abercoster’s. And that he hadn’t thought to get another one from his room.

“Any idea what time it is?” He asked October. She looked like she was seconds away from crumpling into an exhausted heap on the cool concrete pavement. He mentally cursed himself. He had been so fixated on the idea of travelling to D.C to ask his father for help, and hadn’t stopped to consider what their plan would be if things didn’t go the way he planned. And now they were stuck. They needed a place to stop and rest and they needed it soon. October didn’t look like she could hold out much longer. And if he was being honest, neither could Parish. They hadn’t eaten in days and the water they’d guzzled down was probably already in their bloodstreams. He was parched. She probably was too.

“Almost nine, I think.” She answered, pinching the bridge of her nose in thought. “It was eight-something when we left your room. If the clock on your wall wasn’t fast or anything, that is.”

He nodded, looking up at the sky. “You’re probably right. Streets are emptying, so it must be around nine.” Parish was surprised to see that they’re unconsciously wandered into the park. October seemed to be making her way towards the roundabout and, since he had no real plans or direction he wanted to go in, he followed her. She dropped onto the roundabout, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal bars on either side of her. “I’m exhausted.” She sighed, leaning her head against the bar. She looked it. Exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, and she seemed to be swallowing weary yawns.

“I know.” Parish nodded, running a tired hand through his hair. He sat down on the roundabout in the slice next to her and scooted back until he was leaning against the vertical spoke in the middle. “We need to find somewhere to sleep.”

October was quiet for a long time. Confused, Parish looked over at her to find that her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She looked like she’d already fallen asleep – even though the bar she was resting her head on had to be too cold for that. He was about to reach over and shake her awake when, still not opening her eyes, she said, “And then what?”

“Huh?”

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, twisting so that she could look at his face. “What then, Parish?” She didn’t sound angry. Just… tired. Very tired. Parish vaguely realized that the trees in front of him were starting to move. He glanced at October, noticing that her knees were bobbing rhythmically and guessed that she was spinning the roundabout with her feet. “We find a place to sleep tonight, and then what do we do? Your dad was the only person we could think of to help us, and he’s in San Francisco. So what’s our plan for tomorrow? Just aimlessly wander around D.C?”

“We could go to San Franciso.”

“How, Parish? How?”

“I don’t know.” He watched the trees swoosh past him gently. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I didn’t really think that my dad would be out of the country. If there was one thing I could always count on was my dad’s pathological inability to leave the house empty for more than one night. I never dreamed he’d patch things up with my aunt and go see her so I’m kind of at a loss for what to do next now.”  Parish yawned. Was it just him or was the spinning of the roundabout strangely calming?

October’s response shocked him awake. “We could go to my parents...”

Raising an eyebrow, Parish turned to give her a questioning look which she didn’t see because she was too busy staring at a random point in front of her. He could tell from her tone that it hadn’t been easy for October to suggest going to her parents for help. The words had sounded choked and weak, as if some large part of her was hoping he’d decline the offer. And he wanted to, for her sake. Because it was clear that she truly believed that her parents couldn’t – or wouldn’t – help. But he couldn’t completely shut the idea down. What if they had no other options besides that? What if, the next morning, going to her parents was the only sensible idea they could think of? As much as he wished he could decline the offer, he couldn’t. So he put a pin on it instead. “Let’s sleep on it, okay? If we can’t think of anything better tomorrow, we’ll go to them. It’s an option, but a last resort sort of thing. Who knows, we might wake up tomorrow with a brilliant idea.”