What Can't Be Seen

You know it's a bad sign when you wake up sweating at three-thirty in the morning, mid-November, and run to the living room, turn on the TV, see if the Tornados have died down, stayed West. If we're still safe and sound here in the shoebox. If running the air conditioner is wise, when it's supposed to be a windy fifty degrees after sunrise. I stood there naked in the middle of the room, trying to decide: air or no air. I heard Baby Girl crying, either from the flashing light, or the heat.

I wandered back to the bedroom. Locked the door behind me. Looked at the sheets all thrown about, wanting so much to return to that little space I had created beneath the blankets. Comforting, considering the nightmare I dreamt before waking.

All my friends, mostly of the high school or online variety, were standing about, talking.

Ah yes, I remember Ashley. Car crash, right?

They walked away and left me there, though I wasn't there. I tried to call out, but couldn’t. I kept thinking, over and over, It wasn't just a car crash. I was sleepy...

And then I saw from far above a wet road with no yellow line, trees on both sides, and a green jeep coming straight for me. Hitting me head-on.

I said to another person I couldn't see, but knew was there, I don't like this. I want to change it.

They said, Too bad. You can't change it.

I saw my own grave, and woke up.

I got dressed and made coffee. Came into the office. Sat down and decided, I want to go back to the internet today. Despite not feeling well. Though it's not the same bout of sickness I had when I left. That was no sickness at all. Twas an accidental overdose.

Gives you fever, your body trying its best to reject all that medicine. I felt better, though, as the day progressed. Baby Girl and I watched hours upon hours of SpongeBob. By the time the actual movie came on, we were both so tired of that damn gay Sponge, I happily switched it to Bridget Jones Diary, as she "read" books by my side.

As planned, I spent the weekend offline. Worked on the novel and my word-count. Tis healthy now, though still way behind.

Current Wordcount: 11, 051.
Number of Significant Characters: Seven.
Number of Chapters: Seven.
Number of Deaths: Still too many. (World War III will do that)
Number of Possible Love Interest: Three. (I'm living vicariously...)

They JUST issued a Tornado Warning for one county over, where my sister lives in College Town. I was just there last night.

I took yesterday off. Left Baby Girl here with a sitter, and drove North to a government building. Downtown in a dangerous city. Me in my knee high leather boots with three inch heels. Short skirt. Low top. I rethought the whole outfit as I made the long walk from my car parked in the very back, up to the front entrance where scary looking men drove past. Though I was comforted by the fact that a well-dressed man was behind me. Cute. Mid-thirties.

I lost sight of him once inside. Handed over my purse. Walked through a metal detector for the first time in my life. Looked for the stairwell, but couldn't find it. Went to the elevator, and who do you think was waiting inside?

Cute mid-thirties Man.

Him on one side and me on the other, leaning against the wall, hardly breathing.

I hate elevators, I said.

He smiled, and asked, Are you claustrophobic, or is it the elevator itself?

I told him it was the elevator, and he assured me we were safe.

I used to climb the cables, he said. I checked 'em for a living.

I guess I looked surprised, or relieved, as I nodded and said, Wow, really? and we both smiled and blushed. The cables held.

No goodbye.

I got off on the second floor, and he went onto three.

As I left the government building, I saw his blue car parked across from mine, and thought of leaving a note on his windshield. "Thanks for riding with me," along with my phone number. I thought about it, but didn't. And thought of him all day.

I went shopping. Tried to find my sister a late birthday present. Bought a coat for Baby Girl. A few movies for myself at the video place where VHS tapes are no longer wanted on their shelves and marked down to five for ten dollars.

I drove South to my sister's, and apologized for the lack of a present. She said she didn't care; she was just happy to see me. Her husband was out with Adams, his best friend and a man I was quite smitten with. Gorgeous. Mid-twenties. He's the reason I didn't see Sufjan in concert. Being the terrible driver I am, no one would agree to keep Baby Girl while I ran off to Nashville for an overnight vacation, unless of course, someone else would take me. I fought against it. I'm an adult! I can drive. But you'd be surprised how quick those sitters gang up when they know I want to go to a big city out of state.

My sister, knowing Adams also loves Sufjan, asked him if he would just take me. Though the thought of a long car-ride, concert, and shared hotel room with a sure thing like me literally didn't interest him. Perhaps it's because he was heartbroken earlier in the year when his live-in girlfriend went back to her ex-husband and took Adam's own Baby Girl with her. That, or he just doesn’t like me.