It felt impossible to believe it wasn’t at least a day past when she’d been taken to the Between. She really had been gone less than a second in this reality, but she’d traveled from Missouri to New York by horse. And yet, her phone assured her it was still yesterday, only 12:42 AM, when she strolled into the outskirts of town. She hadn’t killed nearly enough time. Nothing would be open yet.
Nothing but, perhaps, an all-night Wal-Mart?
Excited now, she changed her search parameters from the library to Wal-Mart, checked the hours to see if it was an all-nighter, and let out a little crow of relief when it was. Now, she was in business. She could replace her hoodie and leggings, buy a brush for her hair and some wipes for her face, wash up in the bathroom, and even get some food and something to drink. She might even be able to charge her phone in the electronics department if she was careful and unobtrusive.
The Wal-Mart was a good three miles away, which wasn’t that far by vehicle or by horse but was a good distance on foot. She wasn’t used to walking more than across campus these days, and she wasn’t exactly athletic. By the time she trudged into the parking lot, her feet and legs were sore, she was sweating all over again, her face was hot, and her hair stuck to her cheeks. She was not a happy camper.
She was, however, thrilled to see the familiar blue sign glowing brightly in the dark of the wee hours. Here, she couldtarry until dawn. This time of night, there was no greeter at the door, so she walked in with as much confidence as she could muster and made her way to the plus size clothing section. Black leggings, check. Gray hoodie, check.
In the Health & Beauty section, she chose facial wipes and a hairbrush. She debated toothpaste and a travel toothbrush, but cavities and bad breath weren’t her biggest concerns right now. She did, however, grab a scrunchie on the way by. At least she could corral her hair enough to keep it from sticking to her face anymore.
She did a quick self-checkout so she didn’t have to explain her face to a cashier, then went to the bathroom to take care of business. The wipes were cool and blissful on her cheeks and forehead. They took the sting out of the little scratches and divots she really should have cleaned long before now. Nothing that would scar, she didn’t think. Just… ouch.
Then, her neck and armpits, under her boobs, and between her legs. She tossed the used wipes in the trash can in her stall, then pulled the tags off the new leggings and hauled them on. The hoodie went over her head, and then she exited the stall to brush out her hair with some water to tame it so she could pull it back into an orderly ponytail.
She washed her hands with soap, looked at herself critically, and decided she’d do. Her face looked a little road-rashy and swollen, but she no longer looked filthy and disheveled. She’d do.
Now, time for food and drink. God, she was thirsty.
She chose two six-inch, ready-made subs, a snack pack of Cheetos, and two blue Gatorades. Then, she took her feast into the abandoned Subway in the front of the store. It was obviously closed, but the table nearest the entryway wasn’t roped off, so she took that as an invitation and sat there. The first sandwich disappeared in record time. She almost didn’t even taste it.
The second, though, was heaven. Her stomach stopped roaring at her and settled into a low, almost pleasant growling as she took slow, steady bites and chewed with bliss, supplementing with sips of Gatorade. Food and beverage had never tasted so good. All it took was a day or so in the Between without them. Go figure.
About halfway through the sandwich, she opened the Cheetos and ate them one at a time, enjoying the crunch in counterpoint to the sandwich’s softness. She looked around the store—the few people moving around, the glaring, fluorescent lighting, the gaudy splat of colors—and smiled. She’d never truly appreciated the Now before. How everything was just… Now. In her face Now. She loved it.
Finally, she finished her feast and balled up all her trash. She still had a bottle of Gatorade, so she tucked it into her hoodie’s pocket along with her receipt, so she wouldn’t get tackled by security for walking around with it. She glanced at the time on her phone—3:47 AM, still a couple of hours before dawn and longer than that before the library opened—then strolled slowly back to the electronics department. Once there, she spied out the phone section and cursed under her breath. It wasn’t set up so anyone could sneak a charge. Bummer.
Oh, well. The library would have to do. She hoped they had extra cables, because she hadn’t thought to bring one to the damn cemetery when she first started out on this cursed expedition.
She strolled through the store for another hour or so, mostly reading the backs of books or the covers of magazines, then headed out the front before security became suspicious and kicked her out. The faintest line of light edged the horizon when she cleared the doors, and she sighed. Four miles to the library. Luckily, her feet and legs were well-rested from her earlier walk, so she thought she’d make it alright.
Unfortunately, she was wrong and mad about it by the time she reached the low rock wall around the picturesque library grounds and sat down, hobbling a little to make the last few steps. Her feet were killing her. Her legs felt like achy rubber bands. Even her back hurt somehow, though it had been just fine riding a horse all the way to freaking New York. Stupid walking. Stupid exercise.
Her face was hot again, too, but at least her hair wasn’t sticking to her face. Score one point, she told herself crankily as she sat on the low wall, rubbing at one sore thigh with her feet splayed before her. The sun had crept over the horizon while she walked, but there were still two hours before the library opened. She had no idea if it was okay to sit here and wait or not. Would the police harass her for doing so? Usually, libraries were safe places, but she wasn’tinthe library. She wasnearthe library, which wasn’t the same thing.
Then, her phone buzzed against her hip, and she wanted to facepalm. She could have texted Tavia. Should have. Maybe she wouldn’t tell her friend where she was, but she should at least tell the poor woman she was alive.
But… she’d have to explain why she wasn’t in class, teaching bored students entry level policing strategies. Which would lead to Tavia demanding to know where she was. Which she couldn’t answer.
Maybe it was better if she didn’t text her friend. Or, she decided as she read the text that had surprised her, her mother. Though that one hurt her heart. Thankfully, it was just a good-morning-I-love-you text, but still. She was tempted. So tempted.
But no. It was better to go no-contact until this whole thing was over and she was back in Missouri. They—she didn’t know who “they” were in this context—could track where texts came from these days, and she did not want anyone knowing she’dmagically teleported to New York overnight. She’d never be able to explain it.
So no answering texts. Sighing, she stuffed her phone back into her hip pocket and slumped on the wall, looking around her at the glowing splendor of the brightening morning. Nothing muted or faded about the shades of this autumn day. Orange, yellow, and red fairly screamed from every tree and bush, lay scattered on the ground at her feet, danced across the blacktop of the road with each playful puff of breeze. The sky above was a lovely cornflower blue, practically glistening as the sun lifted off the horizon. Fluffy clouds glowed clean white in contrast.
A beautiful autumn day. She felt herself softening at the loveliness of it.
Thus, when a middle-aged lady in tweed tights and a baggy, cowl-neck sweater parked a zippy little SUV in the side lot, climbed out of the vehicle with a book bag slung over her shoulder, and paused halfway up the walk, Esmie only smiled at her.
“Can I help you, miss?” Followed quickly by, “Are you alright?”
Esmie lifted her phone. “I was hoping I could charge my phone. I don’t have a cable, though. Do you have extras here for public use?”
The lady smiled, relieved. “We sure do. You come right in, Miss…?”
Thinking quick, she substituted her mother’s name. “Tilda.”
“What a lovely name. Well, Tilda, you come inside, get warm, and get that phone charging, and I’ll get some coffee going. Do you drink coffee?”
