What Crawls Below

5 § Damage Control

Tuesday was running late, again. A month didn't seem to be enough to get back into the swing of things, not enough to fall back into a normal routine. Waking up in the morning was easy enough; she didn't use an alarm clock any more--the sound was too jolting and would only succeed in triggering an anxiety attack--but she woke up so often throughout the night that normally she was fully awake by 5 a.m.

On the nights her dreams got too vivid, however, she struggled to wake up on time. It was another one of those unfortunate morning-afters. The remnants of whatever memory she'd been reliving in her sleep drifted through Tuesday's head as she rushed to get herself ready for school.

Her Aunt Mary--who had been both estranged and excommunicated from Tuesday's immediate family--had taken her in. Tuesday's parents rarely spoke of her, so she had gone into her new living situation blind. Thankfully, there was nothing strange about the woman...beyond a slight case of eccentricity. One of the first things she'd said to Tuesday was an ironic remark about her own name: "My parents seemed to think naming me this would keep me on the righteous path...well they were sorely disappointed."

Tuesday wasn't quite sure what it was her aunt believed in that had been so alienating to the rest of the Hales, but she certainly wasn't a Catholic. Mary was very spiritual; her house felt more like a day spa. There was a variety of candles in every imaginable space, sandalwood and various other incense could normally be found burning, and in lieu of any pets, Mary took care of plants. They lined each windowsill, always thriving--even now, with how winter was stealing each day's allotted sunlight.

The only actually curious thing Mary partook in was her smudging, wherein she lit a small bundle of sage and walked through the house with it. Tuesday didn't know if it was all in her head, but the technique seemed to have a positive impact; she always felt just a little calmer, just a little more herself, when Mary did a smudging.

Rushing to do her makeup, Tuesday nearly stabbed herself in the eye with the mascara wand. It felt like a waste of time some mornings, but she'd stopped bothering with it when everything had gone to hell...picking it back up was somewhat therapeutic. Her aunt called out from the other room; Tuesday glanced at the time on her phone and cursed, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and dashing down the hall.

Mary had a glass of orange juice and an omelet laid out for her. Not wanting to be rude, she downed half the drink in one gulp as she struggled into her jacket. Lord, did she want to skip class--but Mary had assumed a typical parental role in her life, and she wasn't about to allow that.

"Good morning," Mary greeted over her own glass of orange juice. She'd seemed to be up and ready for awhile now, sitting leisurely at the table with a crossword puzzle. Tuesday couldn't fathom how anyone could look so put-together that early in the morning. "You feeling alright?"

Tuesday nodded, but muttered, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" under her breath when she had turned away. Just a few days before, she'd been called down to the counselor's office from an anonymous, concerned tip about her wellbeing. With an offer of help thrown her way, Tuesday had been very tempted to reach out and finally accept it.

But what was she supposed to say--the truth? What a riot.

She could have hoped she'd had enough practice putting up a facade that no one else would notice the truth. It seemed Tuesday was an open book no matter how hard she tried to be otherwise.

School was...okay. Nothing was particularly interesting about her new Bronx public high, but then again, Tuesday had shed her pariah status. No one there either knew or cared about her past. She didn't run in a wide circle of friends, she never had--but there were some people she shared company with when group projects or discussions arose.