Quick note before anyone starts reading this: This isn't actually fanfiction for fairytales, but it was inspired by them in some places. Basically, this is a story I'm still working on, but progress is slow without getting any feedback, so I wanted to upload it somewhere so that I can get some reviews. I'm sorry for any inconveniences, but this was the category that made the most sense. If this isn't what you were looking for then sorry, but if you like family drama, carnivals, falling in love, and the possibility of the supernatural then by all means please read on.
Chapter 1
The timed ticking of the clock beat in rhythm to the synchronized thumping of my heart pounding against the restraints of my ribcage like bird wings fluttering at my chest to break free and escape the clean white room with its plain chairs and potted plants. The walls were barren of decoration save the generic landscapes of the thundering waves at the beach and I imagined my heartbeat leaping in the same rolling movement to calm myself. I didn't notice my foot subconsciously move along to the steady beat already ringing in my ears.
Two other people sat with me, waiting. The man was bent over his phone, mindlessly scrolling through it. He looked disinterested, unconnected and unconcerned. I assumed he was younger than me by maybe two years. He looked like an athlete.
The girl was shorter than him and wider. She had on bright red lipstick that she kept perpetually rubbing into her lips by pushing them down on top of each other repeatedly until it was all smeared into new positions on her mouth. Her brown hair was pulled back from her face, so I could see her eyes carefully trained in focus on the wall opposite her.
I looked down when she blinked, nervous she might catch me staring so intently at her. I had a book in my lap, but I couldn't bring my fingers to open it with the slight shake they trembled from. Instead, I stared at the cover and then my foot beneath it, still tapping quietly.
I had on black flats. They squeezed my feet to a point on the verge of painful, but I liked how small they made them look. I felt held together from it.
Suddenly, the door opened, and we all looked up expectantly.
The girl who had been waiting with us before came out. She looked shorter than she had going into the room as if now, she felt she could suddenly relax. Her pretty olive skin shone on her forehead and I wondered how much she had been sweating inside the meeting. She had a jacket over her blouse, so I couldn't see the results on her clothing.
"Is Jane Scotte here?" she asked.
"Yes, that's me," I answered, standing up from my stiff plastic chair.
"You're next," she explained. I took a breath and bent to pick up my bag. I walked towards the door she left, and she walked towards the exit. "Good luck," she whispered as we passed. My throat felt dry and I couldn't muster up the thank you I wanted to tell her. Instead, I entered the cream-colored doorway.
The window was blinding, but I couldn't bring myself to blink. I tried to avoid looking at the man behind his desk and instead hunted for the chair I was meant to take. It sat directly across from him, so I took a step forward, just stopping myself from sitting as I remembered to wait for him to invite me to.
"Miss Scotte?" he looked up and I was forced to make eye contact.
He was an older man, probably late fifties. He hadn't completely lost his hair coloring as I could still see the speckles of black that shone through the greyness on his head. He had a pair of glasses perched on the edge of his nose and I self-consciously reached up to touch the pair I wore, hiding the action by brushing my hair behind my ear.
"Yes sir," I answered.
"Please take a seat," he motioned in front of him.
I almost fell downwards towards the seat then realized I still needed to shake his hand.
"It's so nice to meet you Mr. Jackson," I read the nameplate on his desk and offered my hand to him. He put down the paper he had been looking over and took my offered palm. I could already feel my cheeks heating from the panic in me, but his optimistic smile stilled the rush of my heart.
"So, Miss Scotte," he began, eyes turned downward, presumably looking over my information, "what has brought you into my office today?"
"Well Sir, I received an email that I needed to meet with you today on behalf of my application for financial aid for the spring semester," I explained.
"Yes, and may I ask why you're applying for classes now and not, per say, when you graduated high school, or, not even for the fall semester this year? Why take off a year and half from your education?"
I took a breath. I needed to be calm. "Well," I mentally cursed my repetition, "I am not originally from Wilmington Sir. I moved here immediately following my graduation from High School in Boone. I had next to nothing, so my first move had to be to find work and save money. I had to take a break to make sure I could afford to continue classes."
He didn't respond for a minute and I tried not to look around his office so that I wasn't staring at him, but the moment my eyes left his face I couldn't take anything in except the blankness of his walls and the brightness of the window.
"Do you feel that you can afford classes now?" he asked.
"With the help of financial aid, I think I can get by. In fact, I wasn't going to apply at all this year until I heard about this opportunity," I answered.
He nodded and leaned back in his chair, finally letting himself focus on me.
"What is it you plan to do with your education at UNCW?"
"I plan on getting an associates degree in business, primarily focused on running small businesses," I paused, "sir."
"And you plan on running a small business?"
"That is my goal sir."
"What kind of small business?" he poked. My hands were starting to sweat where they sat in my lap. I wiped them on the fabric of my skirt, feeling my pulse run through them as they pressed down on my legs.
"A bookstore sir. I would like to open a small bookstore by the beach, or maybe downtown. I guess that part depends on property values," I felt my voice fall close to a mutter as I talked. Mr. Jackson's face was unreadable, so I turned my head to the side and forced out a cough. Looking at him again, I saw him shuffle through my papers.
"Ah yes, 'a bookstore where everyone will be able to find themselves whether they are lost or not,' correct?" he quoted my words from my application.
"Yes sir." I had written the line, hoping it might stand out to whomever read my application, but now I just puzzled at how stupid it sounded out loud.
"Now, how involved will your family be in your education?" Mr. Jackson continued the interview.
"They're not," I answered.
"But they're not deceased, correct?" he talked while he scanned the application to check himself.
"Correct."
"So you will be providing the payments yourself?" I nodded instead of talking. "From the pay of your current job as a waitress and the help of financial aid?"
"Yes, hopefully," I nodded again.
Once again, Mr. Jackson paused in his talking. I let my eyes trail from his wrinkled face to the sky outside the window. It was clear blue like the feathers of a bird. The sun shimmered like its eye, watching me sit stiffly in front of the financial aid advisor for the college I was desperate to attend.
"Well, Miss Scotte," Mr. Jackson looked up at me and my eyes clicked onto his face again. "Your current situation does place you high on our list of priorities. It also qualifies you for the chance to procure a government provided full ride." I stopped breathing. My nails bit into the skin of my hands as I squeezed them together. "However, you are not our only candidate. We are meeting with several potential students this year who qualify for the same opportunity as you."
He stopped speaking and let his eyes fall back onto the papers that he seemed to find so important. "Is there anything I can do to increase my chances?" I asked.
"That is why you were sent in today," he looked up, smiling. "Because of the unusual amount of applicants, there is a need to hold a second application. We've decided to treat this opportunity as a scholarship that you will be expected to apply for and interview for on a decided date before the holidays."
He was still talking, but I couldn't stop my eyes from flickering outside again. A single cloud was drifting in front of the sun, slowly covering it then letting it shine back through. I wondered if it was a bad omen, or maybe it was just a wink.
"I have the new application for you here," Mr. Jackson extended his hand with a stapled stack of papers in it. I took them and glanced over the front page. "I am available if you have any trouble filling it out, however, I can not be used to write a recommendation letter. That will be up to you to find willing suppliants."
"Thank you," I nodded, slipping the papers into my bag.
"Now, I suggest you focus on the essays yourself. You did fine in high school, but it wasn't exemplary. Not to mention you lack extracurricular activities. Maybe try some volunteer work you can jot down. It'll be Halloween soon and then Thanksgiving and there's always volunteer work to do for Thanksgiving."
"Yes, of course," I kept nodding.
"And they'll definitely want to see a recommendation letter from your currently employer," he added.
"They? Aren't you the one who goes over the applications?" I interjected.
"I get a vote, but this is more than just the work of Cape Fear Community. You've got to impress the big dogs running public funding for schools. They'll hold the final say," Mr. Jackson explained.
"Oh," I breathed.
Mr. Jackson had looked back at his desk of entertaining papers after handing me the application, but he looked up now. His old eyes crinkled with his light smile. "If I were you, I'd probably include information about my family. It's not my job to ask about it now, but I'm sure they'll want to know what's going on now and when you grew up. That's just a tip but you can take it or leave it."
I looked down at the white corner poking out of the bag next to my foot. When I looked up Mr. Jackson was still looking at me.
"Do you have any questions for me?" he asked.
"Where do I submit my finished application and when?"
"If you can bring it back to me by the day after Thanksgiving, I'll take care of everything else," he answered.
"Okay," I nodded.
"If that's all you are free to go Miss Scotte."
"Okay," I repeated. "Thank you so much. It was a pleasure to meet you." I stood up and offered him my hand again as I spoke.
"Of course," he took it and smiled. "On your way out, do you mind inviting Mr. Ryan Luther to come back?"
"Yes sir," I nodded.
"Excellent. Have a lovely day Miss Scotte. I look forward to seeing you again." He had stopped looking at me, so I picked up my bag and headed for the door. My flats made no noise walking over the carpet of his office but tapped quietly when they hit the linoleum of the floor just outside his door.
I met the two faces staring up at me without smiling as I exited the room. "Ryan Luther," I looked at the only boy, "it's your turn."
He sighed.
I didn't wait to watch him get up or tell him good luck. I didn't let myself look at the last girl waiting to meet with Mr. Jackson. Instead, I walked as fast as I could out of the waiting room and out of the entrance where the secretary sat playing on her phone.
Outside I was immediately greeted by a pleasant breeze that lifted the heat from my cheeks and pulled the loose stands of hair around my ears. That was when I finally let myself smile. My eyes closed behind my glasses and I let myself breathe, feeling the sun sink into the fabric of my cardigan. It was October, but the temperature was still in the eighties, hot enough to make me start to sweat as I stood outside the college office. However, I still let myself rest there, smiling and being alive.
The sun was warm and kind unlike it would be more inland. I could only guess if fall had touched the rest of the world when it seemed so much like summer would never leave my home in Wilmington. It stayed ever faithful in the air like a cloud of breath hovering always near in the cold.
But soon the heat drove my eyes open and I pulled out my phone. Chan's name blinked at me and her last several message spelled themselves out in clean black letters: Good luck Rae Rae. Your interview can't be half as bad as my phone call home. Just kidding. But seriously good luck. You can do this! I clicked the phone symbol at the corner of the screen, erasing the yellow smiles of the emojis in a field of green as the call went through to her voicemail.
"Hey Chan. I know you're at work, but I'm thinking you'll be off in an hour or two. I'm going to be at 'my happy place' if you would like to join. Love you girl. See ya," I finished the message and pulled up my Uber app. The nearest ride was five minutes away and the driver looked like a nice old man, so I paid.
The sun's warmth had grown, so I unbuttoned my cardigan and slipped it in my purse beside the precious papers of my application. I wanted to check for sweat stains but decided against it as people walked past to enter the looming brick building behind me. We made eye contact and I immediately let them drift towards the seahawk statue in the middle of the courtyard area in which I stood.
I blinked at it until a car pulled into the parking lot before me. It wasn't my uber, but it brought my attention forward until he did show up.
"Raelynn?" he asked, eyes grey behind his spectacle-like glasses. They were nearly unnoticeable under the wild whiteness of his eyebrows, but my eyes drew to them, once again unconsciously reaching up to touch my own.
"Yes sir," I answered, slipping into the passenger seat beside him.
"That's a smart outfit you got. Do you work here or are you a student?" he asked, focused now of the road out of the college campus.
"Hopefully the latter," I replied.
I was right that he was a kind old man. He kept up a mild stream of chatter as he drove, occasionally asking me about my life, but seemingly content to explain his own to me. His wife was cooking cinnamon rolls for a desert after their supper tonight. They were going to babysit his niece and wanted to use the rolls as a treat if she had good behavior. Her name was Melanie and she was six years old. Soon, I could more clearly picture her in my mind than my other roommates.
"You meeting somebody today?" my driver asked as he pulled into the public parking lot outside the beach access 4.
"I'm not sure yet. Should be though," I answered, already climbing out of his car.
"Well you be careful. Don't go swimming too far without a buddy or leave your things around. Just watch yourself aight?" he advised me.
I smiled and swung my bag over my shoulder. "Thank you. I hope your cinnamon rolls are delicious Mr. Ryan." He nodded and waved as I closed the door.
Closer to the sand, I slipped off my flats and let them join my cardigan in my bag. There was nothing I could do to make my pencil skirt and white button up more beach appropriate, so I left them be. My hair, so carefully pinned back in a bun, was freed and swept back into another, this one less styled and more gracious to the brisk beach wind rolling off the ocean water. I left my glasses where they sat on my nose.
The temperature seemed to have dropped around the water, cooling from the chill of the Atlantic despite the strength of the sun still beating down on the golden sand like an all-natural oven meant just for cooking the skin of all the sun bathers basking on their towels, face down and eyes closed. I wove my way through them until I was standing beside the water, my toes just barely touching the edge of the lapping waves.
There were children running through the shallows, throwing sand and water alike as they played and splashed on boogie boards and flippers. A baby rested its head on the shoulder of her father as he waded into the water, trusting him to hold her above the waves. The mother watched from a chair in the sand, eyes scanning them over the top of her book and through the shaded lenses of her sunglasses. She smiled as a wave clipped her baby's foot and the little girl clapped hysterically at the feeling.
Beside her, an old couple fiddled in the sand with their feet, their hands clasped together where they hung over the armrests of their chairs. They had a small dog with them and it lounged in their shadow, its pink tongue lolling out the side of its mouth and its brown eyes focused on the children screaming in the water.
I watched them all as I began to walk along the side of the ocean, headed towards the pier looming in the distance before me. There were so many people and so many families I struggled to take them all in. I tried to guess which child belonged to which adult as I wandered along. Occasionally I passed a stray couple walking hand and hand and I silently wondered if they were in love or not.
Maybe the boy with the rabbit tattoo was actually planning on proposing that night, or the girl with the pretty braids was going to apply for her dream job tomorrow. The child with the shovel and pail could have been about to uncover the first evidence of mermaids as they dug in the sand. Or maybe that would actually be the job of the surfer running into the water. His hair was tied in a man bun and although I was curious to see if it would hold in the water, I did not wait to watch and see.
I felt the sudden rush of a strong vibration running up my hand and looked at my phone. Chan's name glared up at me, demanding to be acknowledged above the other lives that were unfurling around me.
"Hello?" I slid the screen to answer.
"Are you still there?" Chan's voice broke through the receiver, strong and clear as ever.
"Heading towards the pier now. Meet you there?"
"Well that sounds like the perfect public place to exchange lifechanging news so of course," Chan answered. There was a laugh in her words and I let my gaze travel over the horizon, imagining her getting in her car from work.
"Obviously," I agreed. She let out a real laugh then and wished me goodbye. "See you soon."
"Yep. Love ya," she finished the conversation.
I picked up my meaningless amble to a casual walk, letting my sights focus on the pier now growing ever closer. The people around me were thinning out as the evening had begun to approach. Still, the sand was overcome with tourists.
I beat Chan to the pier and took a seat on the sandy steps to wait for her. From my spot, I could see her little red Pontiac pull into a parking spot. She struggled to wrestle her curly hair into a bun as she climbed out of her car and I waved her over. She was smiling as she walked, and I felt myself smile in a calming sense of relief.
"Wow, I love your beach clothes. They look very practical," she joked, taking in my interview outfit.
"Oh wow thanks. I could say the same about yours," I judged her work outfit. We had on the same shirts as we worked at the same place, but she had traded in my skirt for black slacks and nice, but comfortable shoes. Her nametag was still pinned over her left boob and it glinted sparks in the sunshine. She glanced down at herself when I spoke and shrugged.
"I was really going for something edgy, not practical. Gosh darn it," she sighed.
"Right right," I nodded. "Well, I hope you had a practical conversation today at least," I steered the conversation away from our clothes and carefully watched for Chan's reaction. She was smiling so I smiled too.
"Funny you should say that because it looks like Mr. and Mrs. Mills do want to see their daughter succeed because somebody is majoring in education as long as they can afford rent and transportation!" she exclaimed.
I screamed and jumped up from my seat to throw myself around her as she also screamed and laughed as we almost fell over onto the horrified onlookers ogling at our outburst of excitement.
"I'm so happy for you! I love your parents oh my gosh!" I cheered, still hugging her and slightly jumping up and down. Chan held me back and laughed again.
"I know I'm so excited. They are all ready to send in the first bill for tuition, so I don't get kicked out of my classes!" she let go of me and clapped her hands together, her teeth terrifyingly large as she smiled from ear to ear. "Miss Mills will be coming soon to a classroom near you," she swiped one hand through the air like she was naming a new movie title that was coming out soon.
"That was actually really embarrassing and like I hate to tell you that because I can tell you're proud of it, but like that really sucked," I made a shameful face like I just couldn't feel more sorry for her. In return, Chan pursed her lips and knit her eyebrows, looking at me like I just told her I thought I was the cooler friend.
"That really means a lot. Thank you so much. The honesty just reminds me why I hang out with you," she nodded as she spoke in a thickly sarcastic movement.
"Oh," I paused and looked skyward, "I thought that was because we're gonna be seahawks together. Was I wrong?"
Chan's eyes shot open wide and met mine directly. "Yes! You got financial aid. Oh my God I'm so happy," she screamed, grabbing me this time so we almost fell laughing once again.
"I mean, I think so. I have the opportunity to have a full ride, but I have to apply for it because it's basically another scholarship or something like that," I couldn't stop my lips from turning upward as I spoke, and Chan covered her mouth with her hands, squealing into her palms as I finished talking.
"Rae Rae look at you! I'm so freaking proud oh my gosh," she wiggled as she spoke like her happiness couldn't stay inside her one moment longer and had to slip out in movement instead. "You're obviously going to get it. No doubt whatsoever. They'd be so stupid not to pick you." She spoke like she texted, each phrase coming out after a pause as they formed in her mind, and I couldn't help but grin with optimism too. "I think this requires celebration."
"If it's free I'm down," I agreed.
"Well it's not free, but I was thinking pizza," Chan explained.
"I'm down for that too," I agreed anyways. "Shall we let Roxanne and Grace join?" I asked, thinking of our other two roommates.
"Roxanne should be leaving for work, but I will text Grace. Do we want to leave now?" Chan asked.
"Sure."
Chan tossed me her phone as she climbed into her car and I texted Grace. She wanted cheese, so we picked it up on our way home with breadsticks and brownies. She met us at the door of our house and held it open as we walked in.
"What no wine to go with our fancy dinner?" she asked, brushing her hair behind her ear as she spoke.
"Give me a few more months and I'll be able to buy it," Chan said, dropping the box of pizza on the table in front of the TV and whatever show Grace had been watching before our arrival. "Roxanne at work?" Chan checked.
"Yeah she basically just left," Grace nodded. "I think she left you a note in the kitchen," she added, looking up at me.
I set down the brownies and glanced up. "What is it?" I asked.
"Why's Raelynn special? Where's my note?" Chan laughed, already biting into a piece of pizza and hitting play on the remote. Grace shrugged at her words.
"I think someone called for you. I honestly haven't left the living room like all day," she explained, sitting back down on the couch with Chan and her own piece of pizza. "How much do I owe?" she asked. I left her and Chan to work out the math and headed into the kitchen to see the note.
It was just a phone number and the words call back tacked by the phone in Roxanne's hurried handwriting. I opened my mouth to ask Grace who it was but stopped myself upon the realization that she had no idea.
Instead, I picked up the phone and dialed in the number. The dial tone sang and then a voice spoke, "Hello, you've reached the New York City sheriff's department. How may I help you?" I immediately blinked and shook my head slightly.
"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong number," I said.
"Oh okay," the lady on the other end sounded confused, but I hung up. I looked down at the number and retyped it, making sure I hit each number right this time. Once again, I heard the dial tone and the same voice said, "Hello, you've reached the New York City sheriff's department. How may I help you?"
I stared down at the note, wondering how I'd mistyped the number twice. This didn't make sense. "Um hi, I'm sorry, I called before but now I'm thinking my friend wrote down the wrong number as a message. Um, I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"Oh, well what's your name? I can always check," the lady offered.
"No, I live in Wilmington, I don't see why I'd be getting calls from New York City," I tried to explain, "especially not the sheriff's office. I promise I've never been arrested. I've actually never even been pulled over. I don't have a car," I started to ramble.
"Well if you give me your name, I can make sure we haven't mistyped any information in our database," she suggested.
"Okay, I'm Raelynn Scotte." I rested my shoulder against the wall, looking at the reflection of the movie screen in the window. They were watching New Girl. I thought of Winston being a cop and almost laughed into the phone.
The other side of the line was quiet, and I imagined the lady shuffling through papers for information they didn't have. I didn't even know anyone who lives in New York. It was just Chan and I in our four-bedroom house on the outskirts of campus, so the rent was cheaper with our two roomies.
"Oh yes, is your first name Jane?" the lady's voice returned, and I felt myself stand up from where I was leaning against the wall.
"Yes," I answered.
"It looks like we were calling about a case involving your sister, Miss Marilyn Scotte," she explained.
I had only felt my heart stop twice in my life. The first time happened when my father told me my mother wasn't coming home again and the second was when I left home for the first time with Chan. But suddenly, for the third time in my life, my heart froze inside of me. It was only for a brief second that certainly could have been imagined, but it felt like I had suddenly died internally.
"What?" I almost choked on the word and I felt my eyes frantically scan the room for a cup of water.
"Well, it looks like Officer Donovan is overviewing the case, so if he's still in his office I'm going to patch you through to him. Is that okay?" she asked. I stumbled through the kitchen as she spoke, my hand fumbling open the cabinets and settling on a plastic cup. I shoved it in the sink and pushed the handle upwards.
"Yeah."
There was silence on the other side of the receiver again and I focused on the water rising in the little pink cup, feeling both calmed and like the water was merely rising over me and not inside the sink. As it reached the brim, I turned it off and took a swig. It caught in my throat and I dropped the cup, coughing violently into the sink.
"You okay in there?" Chan called from the living room.
I forced down a swallow of what was left in the cup and took a breath. On the other end of the line, the woman had returned again.
"Alright, he's ready to discuss everything with you, so I'll just go ahead and patch you through. Thank you so much for calling us back," she sounded like she was smiling as the phone call cut off. There was momentary silence then another voice greeted me.
"Hello Miss Scotte, this is Officer Donovan. I'm the leading officer for the current case involving your sister Miss Marilyn Scotte. If you have some time I'd really like to ask you a few questions on the matter." His voice was rich and strong like a teacher I had in high school. He was my favorite teacher. He taught me all about books and grammar. I wondered if Officer Donovan read books.
"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what you're talking about," I stared down at my sink.
"Oh I'm sorry. Miss Marilyn Scotte is your sister, correct?" he checked.
"Yes," I nodded even though he couldn't see me, "but we haven't spoken in years. I don't even know what she looks like now or where she lives." I knew my heart was beating again because I could feel it thumping against my ribcage like it had before I walked in my interview. I wished suddenly that the kitchen had a clock it could beat in time to.
"Have you not been contacted by the hospital?" he asked.
"No," once again I shook my head even though he couldn't see me.
"I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your sister is currently under intensive care at Basm Hospital in New York City. It appears she was the target to an attack that's left her comatose for the time being. You are listed as one of her emergency contacts, I had thought the hospital would let you know by now. I'm sorry this came from me," Officer Donovan spoke softly, but quickly. As if it hurt him to say what he did so he tried to get it out as fast as possible so that it would simply be over.
To me, his words seemed to be an endless cycle of the words 'your sister' spinning around over and over again in my mind. I wanted to ask why I was her emergency contact, but I was suddenly scared to seem suspicious.
"What happened to her?" I asked.
"It's uncertain at this point in the investigation. He fiancé found her in the state she is currently-"
"Her fiancé?" I couldn't stop the words from exclaiming out of my mouth. "B-but when did she get engaged?"
There was a pause and I wondered if Officer Donovan was looking over my file or something, wondering how I was such a terrible sister. I wished I could see him, but I was only left with the static of silence over the phone until he spoke again.
"Miss Scotte, where were you in the past twenty-four hours?" Officer Donovan asked.
"I'm in Wilmington. This is where I live. My roommates can bear witness," I practically spit the words onto the phone, scared my heart might stop again and I might actually die from it this time around.
"It's okay, you're not a current suspect, but standard procedure we do like to check," he explained in his strong and clear voice. It made me take a breath. "However, I do have several questions that I would like to ask and other procedures to follow that would be highly beneficial to the case. I know the trip is a lot to ask, but is there anyway you can come to my office in New York this week?"
His words hung in the air like the sun at the beach. The sun had fallen, and I could see the darkness of night outside the window, but Officer Donovan's question still lighted my ears, waiting patiently for a response before they could retire like the sun.
"I," I paused, "when do you have to know?"
"As I said, this week would truly be preferable. If not, I can conduct as thorough an interview as I can over the phone. Whether you come or not, these demands must be met." He stopped talking as if to wait for my answer. When I didn't speak, he continued. "But, it would be best for us all, your sister included, if you could work willingly with us all here in New York. Especially given the involvement of her fiancé's family, it would be good for her to have blood support."
I walked back to the doorway and looked in on Chan and Grace. They were halfway through the episode and had left me half the pizza and breadsticks. My bag was still sitting on the floor where I left it, my application halfway sticking out as if to stare at me.
"How long should this take?" I asked.
"I can't give an accurate time account, but I shouldn't think it will last forever. Besides, we can only retain you if you prove to be in warrant of arrest, but I don't think that's the case," he obviously tried to joke. I smiled even though I knew he still couldn't see me but couldn't manage a laugh for him.
"Is she, is she okay?" I ducked my head back into the kitchen and leaned against the wall.
"The hospital will be able to tell you that far more thoroughly than I can. Would you like their number?" I swallowed, overthinking the fact that his answer wasn't just a clear-cut yes.
"Yeah." I grabbed a pen and jotted it down under the note Roxanne had left for me. "Thanks."
"You're very welcome. Is there anything else I could do for you this evening?" he asked.
"No. That will be all. I guess I will be seeing you shortly," I spoke fast, not sure if I was trying to outrun my own comprehension or just hoping he would overlook it in case I changed my mind.
If it was the latter, I failed horribly as Officer Donovan exclaimed how he was looking forward to working on the case together and apologized for the grim circumstances of our introduction. He even wished me safe travels as he said goodbye. I did little more than mumble and continuously nod at nothing until I was able to hang up the phone.
I immediately slouched against the wall as I did, roughly hitting my shoulder against the wood so it made a crude sound. "Hey, you okay? You keep making weird noises and you didn't answer me earlier," Chan called from the other side of the wall.
"Yep, I'm good," I shouted.
I could hear them laughing at something from the TV and took a deep breath. Suddenly, my skirt felt unbelievably tight on my abdomen and I had to take it off. I headed for my room, unzipping it as I went so, I could simply let it drop off when I got inside my door. My shirt was off next and was quickly replaced by my fluffiest PJs.
I thought about washing my face and getting ready for bed but couldn't quite manage to get myself off the edge of my bed. I could hear either Chan or Grace yell something at me, but it was muffled, and I chose to ignore it.
If it was important, I knew Chan would text me. But then I realized I had left my phone in my bag. For a moment, I considered going to get it and maybe a piece of pizza, but again I couldn't quite muster up the effort needed to get off my bed and actually walk outside the door.
So, I sat and stared at the wall until my door swung open and Chan stared at me with big eyes. She had also changed from her uniform and was holding a plate of pizza and a drink. "I'm sorry, I just meant to kick it to knock, but your door just kind of flew open," she laughed. I didn't invite her in, but she waltzed herself over and gave me the food.
"Thanks," I smiled.
She glared at me suddenly. "What happened to you? You were probably the happiest person I knew just an episode of New Girl ago. Are you mad you missed it? We can rewatch it. It was pretty funny." I laughed and shook my head. "Oh was it the beach sand? You had to wash it off? I know you get weird like that sometimes ya little neat freak."
I stopped laughing and motioned around my room. "Do you see this? What neat freak?"
"Uh, have you seen mine? Or Roxanne's? You a neat freak," Chan argued. "Or an organized freak. You always have your fancy lists and have your life together and it's just like what?" Again, she made me laugh until I needed to take the drink, she had brought me.
"I have to go see my sister in New York," I blurted out as the conversation dulled. "I mean I guess I don't have to, but I'm going to because I don't want to get in trouble with the cops even though they are actually the ones who told me I don't have to it just seems like the right thing to do because I am a good person and I try to abide by the laws and stuff, so like with karma this is the right thing to do isn't it?"
Chan stared at me silently until I was quiet.
"What?"
"Marilyn is in New York and has apparently been in an accident or not an accident, I don't know, but she's in trouble and the cops want me to come help with the case. I have to leave for New York," I failed at explaining.
"What? When?" Chan asked.
"Um. I don't know," I answered.
"Why do they want you? You haven't spoken to her in so long."
"Um yeah, I don't know."
"But, what happened to her?"
"You know what, I really don't think I asked enough questions on this phone call because I don't know anything," I looked away from her and towards the wall blankly.
Beside me, Chan sat frozen. I could see her staring ahead out of the corner of my eye. I blinked and prayed she would give me some answers even though she had no way of knowing anything I didn't know myself.
Quietly, she took a deep breath.
"So, you're going to New York?" I couldn't tell if she was asking or stating it, but I nodded.
"I mean, I guess I can change my mind," I added. "Afterall, I think we just proved I'm going to be useless because I don't know anything. Yeah, I'm gonna call him back and say no."
"No, no no," Chan shook her head quickly and I paused from where I had been setting down my drink to go get my phone and looked at her. "You should go. You need to go. This is the only way you can prove you have no idea what's going on, or maybe you just know something random about her that ends up helping the entire case."
"No offense, but that is a terrible reason. I can do both of those over the phone and still be able to go to work and work on my application," I argued, realizing I had made up my mind to stay at home.
"Wait," she gasped. I blinked at her. "Your application! Oh my gosh this is perfect. Just think of the kind of essay you could write being involved in this like how you helped. Nobody else would have anything like that," she pointed out.
Finally, her words actually made me hesitate.
"Plus, I mean you haven't seen your sister in years, like maybe it's time- no I'm wrong," she stopped her train of though when she saw my face.
I hadn't thought of my sister once in the years following our separation. I didn't think of her much over the phone call with Officer Donovan. I certainly didn't think about wanting to go see her.
"Apparently she's engaged," I informed Chan, trying to add to the list of complaints I filed against her in my head and Chan's.
"What? To who?" she demanded.
"I have no idea. I think the cop said they're involved though," I embellished my words because I couldn't actually remember what the cop had said. But I figured that sounded cooler than me not knowing anything at all.
"Oh come on Raelynn you have to go now. That's so interesting. Don't you wanna know the ending to this story like it's already a freakin TV show plot and you haven't even gotten involved yet," Chan spoke hurriedly, her eyes widening with each word. I tried to read her face past the excited emotion but couldn't.
"I was really thinking more along the lines of dangerous than interesting."
Chan stared at me, her eyes rolling backwards before she fell over on my bed with an agonized groan of disgust. "Oh come on. If I was you, I would so go and be so interested and love every moment of it."
"Be my guest," I waved my arm towards the door. "Please go for me."
Chan laughed, but suddenly sat bolt upright. "What if I just go with you? We can have our own little adventure. I mean this is one of our last chances because we'll be working and have classes soon enough."
I scrunched my face and stared at her. I thought about the long drive to New York and the pictures I'd seen of the tall buildings and city sidewalks. I thought of the images of Time Square and Central Park. But then I thought of watching Friends at home and being in Wilmington.
"Tempting but I just can't. I panicked and gave in, but now I thought about it and it doesn't make sense to go. I need to work and save up my money and I really, really need to work on my application. Besides, Halloween is coming up and we gotta be here to go downtown," I made up my mind.
"Damn girl, how long you planning on staying? We can be back in time for that," Chan argued.
"That only addressed one issue I listed, thus it is not a good enough argument," I insisted, turning away from her to walk to my phone.
"Raaaeeelyyyynnn," Chan groaned out my name like an aggravated mother and I rolled my eyes at her. "Raelynn," she gasped, and I looked back at her from the doorway.
"What is it now? I have to go to New York or you're going to explode?" I demanded.
"No. I just want to hear the story why you go by Raelynn and not Jane again. I kind of forgot why that is," she practically batted her eyes while she spoke, and I felt my face start to fall into an uncontrollable look of hatred. "Stop cursing me out in your head," she smirked.
I shook my head at her. "I want you to know I hate you."
"Better get over that because we're about to spend an insane amount of time cramped in a car together," she shrugged off my words. I continued to shake my head at her as she stood up and walked towards the door. "Hey, at least I'll drive," she smiled.
13