Revenant j. hale

Chapter 2

Sitting up in bed gasping, clutching my aching throat I just about fell out of bed trying to wiggle out of the dream I had. But still, the taunting voice in the back of my mind whispered to remind me that it's never  just a dream. The clock beside my bed said in neon green numbers that it was only 6:42 in the morning. Really, on a Saturday. Shaking my head I made my way into my small bathroom to take a shower. The constant bags and dark circles under my foresty green eyes did nothing to help my complexion.

Downstairs I could practically hear the complaints of my grandmother as she fought with the coffee maker again. I don't know how that old woman still drinks it honestly. You'd think that once you hit your 90s you'd stop. Then again, all the women in my family drank it religiously, not exactly being morning people. Not to say that coffee stunts your growth or anything, but it may be a contributing factor to our shortness as well. 

"Gran, when are you gonna learn to stop fighting with the dang coffee machine. You know it wins every time," I said as I made my way into the kitchen.

"Now you know that ain't true missy! That damn thing just has it out for old women. If I had it my way, we'd just hang it out the window and let all the oldies on the block take a good ole' whack at it. That would show it."

I couldn't even try to hide the giggle that bubbled out at her words. This was an everyday occurrence with Gran. Not just with the coffee, with everything. She had more spitfire and sass than anyone I'd ever met. When I was very young it was a little embarrassing at times. Heaven forbid the woman go to the grocery store without trying to strike a bargain. It wasn't negotiation, just pay for the freaking bananas! Yet she still never lost.

"Did you take your meds?" I ask, pouring some black coffee into a mug before carefully  handing it to her, then adding creamer to mine.

I could've sworn I saw her eyes narrow over the brim of her cup as she took a big gulp. "Did you?" She bit back. Letting out a sigh, I opened the fridge and began looking for ingredients for breakfast. Then turned to the cupboards. "Don't think I didn't hear you up all night. Shuffling around in bed. Shook the house so much you could've sworn it was an earthquake. You even started screa-"

I cut her off there, "We need to get groceries today if we don't wanna starve for the rest of the week. If you don't want me to go I can call Theresa and ask if I can take a shift at the diner since her waitress is on maternity leave."

When I wasn't working at the bookstore in town, Theresa would sometimes let me pick up shifts at her diner. Due to my issues I can't work there often. She really only let me do it when she knew we were low on money and needed food, paying me in leftovers from the diner and letting me keep whatever tips I may earn. Which wasn't very many. Nevertheless, it was helpful and very kind of her to do.

Looking at her expectantly she just shook her head silently, making her way over to her recliner. She plopped down making the creaky springs moan at the weight. Not even a minute later I heard the TV click on and  her shout, "You better not have taped over any of my soaps!"

I promise the story gets better. I'm still getting used to writing.