Faded Memories | lp

Chapter Six

September 1st, 2014

Last night, I had the most peaceful sleep I've had in a long time (I think?). I stretch my arms across the bed and sit up. I rub my eyes and push the warm blankets back. Then, I go to the bathroom and take a quick shower. I let the steamy water run over my tense muscles and soothe the headache I woke up with. While washing my body, I have a two-second panic attack when I glimpse black stuff on the small of my back.

I have a tattoo.

I inspect it closer when I get out of the shower and something in my mind just clicks when I see the words printed on my back.

There'll be peace when you are done

It's part of the chorus from Carry on my Wayward Son, a popular Kansas song. I wonder when I got it and what possessed me to get it. Nevertheless, it's pretty cool and I'm not complaining.

I manage to find some appropriate clothes. I was amazed at how different my taste in clothing is now compared to 2012. I own many risqué dresses and crop tops, not to mention the booty shorts and high heeled boots. I put on a pair of longer jean shorts and a light pink quarter-sleeve shirt.

I let my hair dry by itself. When I got to my makeup bag, I didn't know what to do. I don't know what is in, or how I did my makeup for the past two years. Frustrated, I google myself.

I hardly recognize the girl that pops up. Her boldly colored hair and thick makeup is outrageous. I understand now why my hair was so brittle and damaged; it's been colored and styled way too much. I instead comb my hair down my back. The only makeup I apply is foundation and mascara. I even took the liberty of throwing the loud eyeshadow and lipstick colors away.

What to do, what to do?

I find where I left my phone last night and check it for any new messages.

I see a missed call and I immediately call it back when I see it's my mother.

Her groggy voice picks up after a few rings.

"Jo?"

"Mommy?" I wimper. At this moment, I just want to be a child again. I'm so upset. I don't remember the last two years of my life and I'm sick and tired of it.

I tell her the whole story, well, as much as I know.

"Do you want me to come visit? I can get on a plane right now." She suggests. I agree almost immediately, I wonder how much she's changed.

We say our goodbyes and I feel like something is wrong. I can't place the feeling, I just know something isn't right.

I wander around the trailer for a while and look at all the picture frames and little pieces of myself I put all around. I wonder if Sonia put music on my phone that was on my old one. I remember Liam saying I liked old music.

I find my phone and go to the music library. I find a bunch of rock hits from Kansas and Queen. I put it on shuffle and grow confused when a slow song starts playing. I understand when I see it's a One Direction song. Of course I would have my boyfriends' music on here. I look at the five members in turn and sigh to myself. They're all very hot, but I must admit, Liam caught my eye and kept it. It's good to know I still have one feeling intact since the accident.

I find a bag of cat food under the kitchen sink and pour some in Tiger-lily's bowl. She purrs and rubs up against my leg. I rub her neck for a few seconds when an exciting thought occurs to me.

I wonder if I have a golf cart?

I go outside and open the small tent-like garage. Lo and behold, a golf cart sits expectantly inside. It's just itching for me to drive it around. I look for the keys but when I come up short, I remember a few keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen. I rush back inside, excited to experience part of my old life. I find the right key and basically run back outside.

The sun is up and there are already people swimming in the lake, skiing in the lake, tubing in the lake, jet skiing in the lake, etcetera.

I try to rev the engine but no sound comes from the cart. That's when I realize I have to charge the damn thing. I plug it in and mope back inside the trailer. Since I have nothing to do, I google myself again and read all I can about myself. The names of my two published books come up and I'm impressed I could actually write something long term.

I wonder if I own a copy?

Of course I do, what author doesn't? I scope out the bookshelf I saw in my bedroom and find them.

The first one, titled Detached, sounds like a depressing book, judging by what I read on the back. Seems to me like a young boy died and he relives the best and worst moments of his life from outside his body. I feel like I'd be a crying mess.

The second book, titled Open Doors, sounds sad as well. The premises is a girl being bullied by her step mother and her being afraid to stand up to it. That is, until her family goes on a vacation and the girl meets someone who gives her confidence in herself. I'd still be crying from the first book and that would just carry over and make it double the tears.

After reading the first few chapters of Detached, I go outside and see that the golf cart is fully charged and ready to go.

Hopefully I don't get lost.

I pull out of my lot and drive down by the lake. A few people wave out of friendliness and I hesitantly wave back. The warmth feels good on my skin, all my worries fade away for just a second.

Lots of people are out and about on their golf carts, but never once do I feel crowded. I pull the golf cart into a little parking lot used for parking by the basketball courts. I just sit and watch. I watch the people having fun on the lake and I watch a never-ending game of basketball.

I sit there with a smile on my face, desperately trying to remember the life I once had.

---

I, being the terrible writer I am, forgot one vital part of the story. Jo's arm was broken in the crash.

I feel bad but let's just pretend that never happened.

Okay.