Shiftless

Shiftless, Chapter 1

Ugly, ugly green vinyl. So ugly. Why the hell was she even staring at it? And why on earth had anyone believed that combining that particular shade of green with fake leather texture was a good idea? And yet it seemed to fascinate her, almost like an imaginary voice in her head telling her she shouldn't look away.

Don't look away . . . .

Right. Exactly like that one.

Chelsea shifted in her seat, her eyes still focused on the appallingly bad faux-leather seat covering in front of her, and she frowned at it.

The texture of the whole thing was the worst part, really. It kind of reminded her of the time she volunteered at the retirement home. More specifically, it reminded her of that one older woman who had been showing off more cleavage than she'd probably intended when dressing herself that day. Her skin from neck to chest had been almost the exact same texture as the horrible sea of vinyl in front of her... like aging pudding mixed with cracked, dried mud.

That whole retirement home thing had been pretty sad and awful as well. During her short time volunteering there she'd lost track of the number of times she'd been mistaken for a granddaughter, or a great-granddaughter. A few had cried because they'd been so happy to see her . . . or at least happy to see whoever they'd thought she was. Most had been so desperate for someone to talk to that it probably wouldn't have mattered if they knew Chelsea wasn't a blood relative. Some seemed as though they could barely remember who they themselves were at times. It was heartbreaking, really, which was why she'd stopped volunteering in the first place. That activity hadn't been the feel-good pick-me-up sort of thing she'd expected, really.

Getting old was really weird, she decided. After all, even that old lady at the nursing home had once been a young girl once, just like her. It was such an odd thing to stop and consider, really . . . that someday Chelsea herself might end up like that, all wrinkled and weathered and frail.

Nothing her parents would have to worry about of course, but she might someday.

Wait . . . what?

No! Focus on what's in front of you. Don't look away.

Right. She was allowing herself to get distracted. Green vinyl. That was what she needed to focus her attention on right now, even if she didn't really understand why.

Chelsea's frown deepened. Other cars weren't upholstered with this horrid stuff, surely. Sure, to some extent this horrible upholstery could be forgiven, considering the car itself - a sixty-eight Mustang that ran like a dream. Even if they were hauling that dumpy little U-haul trailer behind it, it still looked pretty cool. Still, what was wrong with something like a mini-van if you were forced to haul your family clear across the country? Some of them even came with little television screens built into the back of the seats, and Blu-ray players, so anyone who wasn't actually driving could watch a movie or something. Why couldn't her parents have gone for something like that?

Never mind. This was the car she was in, and these were the seats that happened to be inside of it, horrific upholstery or no. She should focus - she had a job to do. This ugly green vinyl wasn't just going to watch itself, after all. Let the staring commence.

She stared.

Hmm.

That was another thing, now that she thought about it. Why was the ugly upholstered back of the driver's seat such a big deal all of a sudden? It wasn't all that interesting a thing to be inspecting this closely, when it came right down to it. Why did staring at it feel so damned important? What if she-

Stop that! Do not look away!

Right . . . the whispered voice in her mind was urgently telling her to keep it up, and it did kind of sound like her own voice. Probably best if she listened to it, even if she didn't really understand the reason for it. She'd always heard her own voice in her head when she was thinking thoughts, or was figuring out test answers, or asking herself questions, or things like that.