Journey's Child

7

Settling in for the night was difficult. We avoided the bathroom, which even after our scrubbing would have been ranked somewhere between a rest stop facility and a Sani-hut. This made a nice relaxing bath out of the question. My mother called it the 'latrine' and kept the door closed at all times.

Both bedframes squeaked from the strain of any weight, so our night was filled with their protests along with other loud and strange sounds in the dark. The refrigerator made sudden banging noises as if a hand grenade had gone off in it and the windows rattled when anything more than a slight breeze pressed against them.

Tossing and turning made my bedframe throw a fit of squeaks and wheezes. I tried to lay still and not move. I had my window cracked open when I went to bed. The sound of the ocean was just loud enough to lull me into a pleasant sleep. My mother ruined everything by pulling it closed and attempting to force the lock into position.

"Gilly, we must never leave any of the windows open at night, never!"

My answer was to roll away from her angrily, sending my bedframe into a loud, high-pitched protest. She banged on the latch for several more seconds, then stormed out. I wondered if she had gotten it locked. That was my last thought until the dull light of a foggy sunrise woke me up.

I glanced over at my clock and saw it was 7:23 am. Sitting up I stretched and carefully stepped out of bed onto the worn carpet. I slipped into my tennis shoes and headed towards the front of the cottage to see what would greet me on my first morning in paradise, as I began calling it.

The living room was bathed in a purple film from the curtains being closed. I pulled them open and saw that the gloomy film continued on as far as I could see. Fog pressed against the window having floated in from the ocean, painting everything in dull flat shades of pewter. I stood taking in the beach and ocean stretched out beyond the window. The black and white shore without any color, made me feel sad and lonely. I wrapped my arms around myself and headed towards the kitchen. I decided right then and there that I'd never call this place paradise ever again.

The kitchen had a small window over the sink on the same wall as the living rooms. It was quite small and built more for ventilation than any view it might accidentally offer someone tall enough to see out. I pulled myself up on the Formica counter and looked out at the narrow slice of beach that the tiny opening offered. Not any better view from this window I decided, jumping down onto the cracked linoleum floor.

I wandered down the hall to see if my mother was getting up. She was lying in bed on her stomach with one hand hanging off the side resting on the floor. She appeared to be in a dead slumber. I used the bathroom as quickly as possible, then got dressed in jean shorts and a long sleeved tee. Remembering my mother had bought several boxes of my favorite cereals, I fixed myself a large bowl of Cocoa Krispies. The television in the living room was ancient and only got local channels with an intermittent signal, so I sat on the couch and watched the tide roll in and out. Suddenly, a man walking close to the cottage startled me. After he passed I got up and stood at the window. I saw a couple holding hands as they walked down the path my mom and I had taken the night before. For some reason knowing that there were other people around made me feel better.

After I rinsed my bowl and spoon and set them on the dish rack, I checked once more to see if my mom was getting up. The empty wine bottle on top of the garbage in the kitchen told me she probably wouldn't be up before noon.

Bored beyond words, I wrote her a note and headed out the aqua blue door to investigate where I was and to find out if this was friendly or enemy territory.

Just whV_