❝ 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪'𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴
𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 ❞
or in which verity summers returns to derry after twenty-seven years, and finds that nothing is the same
[it chapt...
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i. the jade of the orient
VERITY WAS EXHAUSTED, although she was so distracted that it had faded to a numbness, hidden behind the frantic worry that hung around her like a choking fog. When she had just about recovered from the call, she snapped into action; finding a suitcase and throwing things into it, having to start again and re-pack when she realised that in her shell-shocked state, she had filled the luggage with random items from around the apartment.
After making a few phone calls, she now sat in a rented car, hands in a death-grip on the steering wheel, looking out for a sign indicating that she had arrived in Derry.
Home, Mike had called it, but it didn't feel that way. Even now, as the memories came back, she found it hard to believe that she had once lived in that world, where the summers were seemingly endless, and your friends were almost more important than family.
Her family had moved when she was in high school, but she never really knew why. Frowning, she rubbed her forehead, feeling as though something was hidden below the surface, a memory that was trying to reveal itself.
Jesus, Verity thought, trying to keep her eyes on the road. I haven't seen these people in what, twenty four, twenty five years? What if things aren't the same between us, what if–
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp pain stung her hand, causing her to cry out. She looked down, and almost swerved the car when she saw the blood there. A thin cut now ran along her palm, the blood dark in the gloom of the evening.
Verity slowly pulled in to the side of the road, desperately trying to remain calm. She stared at the cut- or rather where the cut had been; it had closed up, leaving a livid scar behind. She closed her eyes, leaning her head on the steering wheel as a feeling of hopelessness washed over her.
She suddenly became aware of the song playing faintly on the radio, Dancing with myself by Billy Idol, and the memory that came with it. A summer's afternoon, the air thick as honey with humidity. They had been in Verity's bedroom, she remembered. She had dragged him to his feet as the song came on, urging him to dance to the upbeat rhythm of it, jumping around together until they were both red-faced and gasping. They had been younger then, more carefree as, for a few fleeting minutes, they forgot the worrisome events of that summer. To just be what they were. Kids.
What am I doing? I'm travelling to my backwater hometown to meet strangers. She groaned inwardly, dragging a hand across her eyes. I'm going fucking insane.
She opened her eyes, looking out of the windshield.The sign in front of her was partially covered with ivy, and its cheery message was hard to make out in the twilight:
