Chapter Ten: Is This My Life Now? Supernatural Babysitting?
Caroline deserves all the good vibes, my dudes. We all need a Caroline friend, just the right balance of take-no-crap and well-intended-honesty.
Also, can you believe it? An update on this so soon? It is a crazy life, my dudes.
In this chapter, I wanted to explore how Sabrina would re-adjust to small-town life after being in a large college town for so long. Well, not long, only four years, but long enough. I've had an experience extremely close to this one. Do you know what the biggest killer in small towns is? Not vampires surprisingly. Boredom mainly. Well, sometimes vampires but never the good ones.
And I'm curious, are you guys mainly small-town folk or more relatable to the big cities? Judging by my use of the word 'folk', I'm sure you will be able to determine my own inclinations.
Songs for this chapter:
"Doo Wop (That Thing)" by Ms. Lauryn Hill
"Hey Na Na" by Katie Herzig
"Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
"You Drive Me Wild" by The Runaways
-O-
Sabrina lingered in the car even after she shut off the ignition. She sat back in the driver's seat heavily. The sun may have just been setting, but she felt like she had been awake for days. Her arm rested against the window, the sun reflecting off the silver cuff. She turned it in the light, watching how the colors shifted. Faint etchings surfaced in the sunlight. Curved and elegant, she thought the carvings might have been Hebrew, but she couldn't be sure. Reyna could translate, she supposed, if she was feeling generous. She traced a few of them with her fingertips before her head tipped back onto the car headrest.
She imagined what this return trip would have been like five- even three- years ago when Gran had still been around. She could scarcely believe it had been that long. She wouldn't still be in the car, of that she was certain. Gran had possessed a sixth sense, always knowing when someone arrived outside her home. A street back from Main Street, cars flew past constantly with joggers, walking elderly neighbors, and playing kids mixing together in a harsh cacophony. But Gramma Rose always knew when her either of granddaughters arrived outside the house. It made living with and trying to sneak out the woman nearly impossible. But only nearly. Sabrina had participated in her fair share of teenage rebellion, mostly at Reyna's encouragement. Sometimes, Sabrina thought that Gran let her escape the house on purpose.
Opening her eyes again, she looked at the small white craftsman cottage in front of her. The rose vine that sprouted pink and white roses had withered and dried out on the side of the house. Somehow, the two hanging ferns that were probably older than her managed survival in her absence. She wouldn't be surprised if Caroline came by once in a while to water and trim them. Keeping up and restoring parts of the house had been Caroline's pet project for the last three months. She said she found a type of calm out of doing it. She remembered the screaming voicemail Caroline left her when she discovered the old black and white hexagonal tile in the laundry room hidden underneath the 1960s linoleum. She smiled despite herself before remembering the other part of the phone call— a fight with her older boyfriend, Damon. She shuddered to think what part of that encounter she had been compelled to forget, especially when she thought about Caroline's breakdown earlier. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. She released it when she felt it crack underneath her palms.
The lawn, which definitely needed a trim, hedged over the walking stones which lead to the front porch steps. She could do that this weekend if the old push mower was still in the garden shed outback. The white porch swing moved back and forth in the light breeze as the same breeze wafted through a nearly bare oak tree off the front yard. She remembered the old tire swing which had long been taken down because Caroline found it embarrassing. She wanted to see Caroline's reaction when she got her, but she didn't know if she would be able to stay awake that long. She couldn't remember the last time they had stayed in this house together. Before she left the Weinburg's, Caroline invited herself over to stay the night.
"But it's like a total right of passage, Sabrina. The first night in a new house, y'know," Caroline had said.
After her parents passed, Sabrina came to live with her grandmother. Tears brimmed in her eyes thinking of her, not in a bad way, or even despairing at the loss. She missed the advice, the hugs, the reassurances, even the hot-tempered lectures when Sabrina was doubting herself too easily. Exhaustion made her melancholic, she supposed. But she still had Caroline for all those things, except for maybe the logical advice. It may be a few years before she could accept that from her younger cousin. Even now, she still saw her Gran's icy fire in Caroline's eyes at times.
She finally talked herself into opening her car door, shoving it open. Mrs. Ferguson was out trimming her hedges next door. She had to be edging close to a hundred. Sabrina waved, but she doubted that the woman saw her by the way she confusedly adjusted her glasses and squinted.
The breeze proved more biting than Sabrina expected, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She wished she had taken Reyna up on her offer to keep the sweatshirt. She jumped when she felt something fuzzy brush against her ankles. She looked down as a black and brown cat wound around her legs, purring.
"Oh…hello?" She leaned down, seeing the silver flash of an ID tag. On a heart-shaped charm, the text read: 'Peanut. Not lost, just like to wander.' She giggled, an unfamiliar and youthful sound. "Peanut, huh? That's a nice name, bud. I like a good wander myself. I don't blame you for wanting to get out every once in a while. You know, this is my first non-threatening conversation for the last thirty-six hours. And it's to a cat. Isn't that sad?" She asked Peanut.
She let her hand travel down its spine and over its tail a few times. The cat was assuaged at this, sauntering off across her property line presumably to find other attention. She waved at the retreating animal, standing to her feet before popping her back and shoulders. "God, I'm getting old," she murmured, rubbing her lower back.
The voice spoke, 'No older than I. You are a child if that,'
Sabrina ignored it, too tired to do anything else. She should have told Miriam about the nameless voice. The thing about Sabrina was that she liked it when things had names, had their own special little box in the world. When something unknown didn't have a name, it irritated her profusely.
She moved around to the back of the car, popping the trunk, removing her backpack and larger purse. She was thankful that she hadn't been carrying those when she fell into the water the night before. She tried not to allow her thoughts to wander too far, despite her admission about wandering to the cat. The irony of it all, she thought, the girl who never learned to swim becoming part fish. The girl who detested violence becoming a triple murderer, consuming men's hearts. Her stomach rolled. She fell too quickly, too deeply, into those mind-trapping waves which threatened to swallow her whole. She wouldn't let the Ocean follow her here, wouldn't allow her the extra room needed. Caroline would be here soon, and her cousin had always been good at taking up any extra attention.
Slinging the bags over her shoulder, she started her trek up the short driveway, unlatching the white gate with her foot. She was proud when she could still close it with only her foot after she stepped into the yard. She stepped from stone to stone, never touching the grass. Recalling little rituals like that lightened her spirits. She tilted her head. She didn't remember the bottom step sloping like that though. She would have to call someone out to look at it. To Sabrina's surprise, Peanut hid underneath the porch.
She shook her head at him, "You are not coming inside,"
He seemed unbothered as he licked his front paws, rubbing his ears with his arms. She lifted a skeptical brow as she began up the steps.
"I mean it," she grumbled. "I'm not signing up to take care of anything else. I have enough as it is,"
Her head turned from side to side as she looked across the porch. A broom was propped near the door, and Sabrina assumed that Caroline had swept recently. She doubted the gathering dust in the corner had been deposited by the world's most OCD whirlwind. The pillow her grandmother had knitted still rested on the porch swing. She had asked the lawyer handling her grandmother's estate to leave the new keys underneath the rug. She would be sending the lawyer a thank you note for suggesting and arranging new lock installations too.
She continued muttering as she bent, refusing to set down her bags. "I swear, four years and thousands in student debt later, and I'm becoming the supernatural babysitter,"
She lifted the black entry rug, finding a taped envelope with her name written across it. She tipped the keys into her hand. She saw a card inside the envelope but couldn't summon the energy to take it out and read. She pulled back the screen door before inserting the key into the main door's lock. Her eyes were drawn to a ding in the door's white paint caused by the infamous twirling baton incident of '99. She gave a small smile as she turned the key, opening the door.
A sigh of relief escaped her when she first stepped through the door. Home, she thought. Finally. Light blazed through the white translucent curtains barring the open blinds. Shadows fell across the room in strokes, alternating light and darkness against the furniture. Caroline had torn away the sheets covering their grandmother's antique furniture, even rearranged the couch and the two armchairs in the small living room leading to the dining room. Her grandmother's decorating style was bohemian before her time. Her Gran laughed often about how her sisters complained about all the wildly colored junk she kept in her house when they came to visit. Sabrina knew her house was small but not constricting or confining. She didn't even know if she would like to live in a big house. Too much to clean anyway.
She breathed deeply as she shut the door behind her, toeing off her shoes. A narrow staircase started off to her right, leading to what used to be her room. A loft-style room with enough room for her bed, some bookshelves, and a small desk along with a small bathroom, which she supposed belonged to Caroline now.
She shuffled along the wood floors, setting her purse on the open, sea-foam green secretary desk and the backpack on the tufted leather couch. An assortment of cardboard boxes was scattered inside the house. She laughed to herself thinking of Caroline directing the movers of where to place all her things. It was probably organized by room. She dragged her fingertips along the wall, reveling in the slight gives and impressions in the wallpaper. She poked her head into the kitchen. Caroline had some type of poster and other art supplies strewn about the counter. She rolled her eyes. She would not be cleaning that up. She pushed herself from the kitchen, ducking down the next narrow hallway which lead to the only other bedroom in the house— her new room. Memories of sliding down this hallway in socks prodded her mind. She could nearly feel Caroline breezing past her, determined to beat her, before Gran caught her by the collar.
Sabrina wished she was wearing socks.
The sun disappeared from the sky by the time she reached the end of the hall, and she reached for the doorknob. She blindly fumbled for the light switch just inside the door. She figured most of her own things would be in this room, Gran's old room. She wondered if it would be strange living in Gran's space before she shook her head at herself. No, it might take getting used to, but not strange. This was home.
She tripped over two moving boxes despite herself, nearly falling and only catching herself by grabbing onto a chest. She looked down, finding Gran's own cedar hope chest. Her chest constricted. She'd forgotten about that. An old mountain tradition that Gran never let go of completely for her oldest granddaughter. Despite Sabrina's begging, Gran never let her open the chest and would only say, "It'll have everything you need in it… when the time is right for you,"
It was all said with just the right air of mystique and irritating foreknowledge that always accompanied her melodramatic grandmother. She ran her hand along the grain of the stained wood. A rose-shaped lock hooked over the top and against the front. She couldn't say how old the chest was.
Then, her eyes met the sweetest, most relief-giving sight— her new mattress in the center of the room. There was no bed frame yet, but Sabrina did not care. She nearly ran to the closet pulling down extra quilts and sheets. She moved around the room in a blur, arranging covers and searching out a single pillow among the chaos of boxes. She tossed herself onto the mattress, slightly regretting when a pain shot through her back.
Even in the growing darkness, Sabrina raised her arm to eye level as she lay in the quiet. The stone in the cuff remained steadfastly blue, and she prayed it would stay that way until she could get another conjuring 101 lesson from Miriam. She tossed a desk knick-knack across the room, hitting the light switch, plunging the room into embracing darkness. Even after her early anxiety, Sabrina dreamt of the cool ocean stillness.
-O-
"Good morning!"
Caroline's bright voice echoed in her partially unpacked bedroom. Sabrina groaned, burrowing further underneath her comforter. She only set up the bare necessities last night, meaning a mattress on the floor and bed coverings on the mattress, before she promptly passed out. Caroline crossed the room, her wedge heels clacking against the wooden floors.
"I said," Caroline— or as Sabrina now called her, Caroline the Sadist— repeated. Sabrina heard her grab hold of her dark curtains. "Good morning!" She sang, ripping the curtains open before flashing across the small room and tearing the comforter away from Sabrina.
Sabrina's groans turned into a hiss. "Why!" She said. "Dear Lord, have you no mercy," she flung her arms over her eyes. Her new cuff was cold against her skin.
Caroline cocked a hip, "Don't be an idiot. And you wish,"
Caroline moved around the room, opening boxes, and rummaging through her still-packed clothes. Sabrina pushed herself up on her elbows, pushing bushy hair out of her face. She absently reached for her glasses on her bedside table before remembering she didn't need them anymore.
She fumbled to find her bedside clock. She squinted before her expression slackened in outrage. "It is six o'clock in the morning, Care! What on God's green Earth is wrong with you! I don't even have to be at work until eight-thirty,"
Caroline's brow furrowed in concentration as she tossed articles of clothing across the room. "Do you have any clothes that are not hideous? Or that are actually from this century?" She cast a distasteful stare at Sabrina. "Just because you're going to be a librarian doesn't mean you have to dress like one,"
Sabrina flopped back onto her bed while Caroline gave a noise of triumph. She held up a short green dress for Sabrina's inspection.
"Care, I don't know if that's necessarily appropriate for the first day—,"
Caroline held up a hand, interrupting, "This isn't about appropriate. Did you learn, like, nothing at college?" She tossed the dress on the bed before rolling her eyes. "Fine." She tossed a cream turtleneck too. "Wear this underneath it if you're so worried about modesty all of a sudden,"
She examined the outfit for a long moment before considering Caroline suspiciously. "What's got you so chipper all of a sudden?"
A tender flush heated Caroline's face. "Nothing. Matt came by to check on me last night, that's all,"
Sabrina's eyebrows rose. "Really?"
"Nothing happened." She bobbed her head, considering. "Well, nothing bad happened,"
A smile blossomed on Sabrina's face. She ripped the pillow off her face. Sabrina lurched to sit up, beating her hands against the duvet, practically bouncing, "Tell me, tell me, tell me!"
Sabrina almost forgot everything that had happened the day before, aging trauma exchanging itself for youthful excitement.
Caroline sighed like it would be inconvenient to repeat whatever happened the night before, but rapidly sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Sooo," she said before diving into her detailed play-by-play with the necessary hand motion. Sabrina believed there were even details included about the type of chapstick she had been wearing. "Then," her voice turned a bit shy, "he told me that he thinks he's in love with me,"
"Ahh!" Sabrina shook her by the shoulders. "Really!? That's freaking adorable,"
She laughed, nodding. She shrugged away, pushing Sabrina away by her face. "Now, stop, you're making my hair frizz,"
"Whatever." Sabrina flopped back again.
She hooked a tangled piece of hair around her finger. "You know, you could learn a few things about hair care,"
"Gee, thanks,"
"You're so lucky you haven't gotten dried out split ends." Her brow furrowed. "I don't remember it being this long last time I saw you,"
"That is the thing about hair, Caroline. It tends to grow over longer periods of time," she said drily. She looked at the white paper bag Caroline had set near the door. "What's in the bag?" She yawned, scratching her shoulder.
Caroline's lips curled in distaste before she answered, picking up the bag and tossing it to her, "Oh. Reyna went to Walmart and bought a flip phone for you to use until we can replace the one you lost last night. Don't worry. I've already set it up and put in the pertinent numbers,"
Sabrina's eyebrows rose, "I'm assuming you mean yours?"
"Ok," Caroline shot to her feet, clapping her hands together. "Now, you need to get up and—," she motioned to Sabrina's general form, "fix this. Or… try to fix it. I'm not gonna lie," She said putting her hands on her hips, "this is not looking good for you,"
Sabrina's excitement dulled again when Caroline diverts the conversation back to her appearance, scowling, "You are so not in a position to be lecturing. I can make you homeless." The lack of coffee was also catching up with her, deepening her frown. She needed caffeine, stat.
Caroline waved her off. "Meh. I would give that threat a solid 3.5,"
"Out of five?"
"You wish. Ten," she said. She ripped away the rest of the comforter from Sabrina, who wailed,
"Nooo! Stop!"
Caroline spotted a decorative throw pillow on top of a box and threw it at her. Sabrina put her hands over her face.
"Alright! Alright! I'm up," she finally swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She looked at the box containing her bed frame and headboard. Her head fell into her hands as she yawned. "I'm up,"
"Welcome back to Mystic Falls, Sabrina,"
Caroline's laugh echoed through the cottage when Sabrina flipped her off with her eyes resolutely closed even as she pushed herself off the bed.
-O-
Sabrina slammed the front door shut with half a cheese danish stuffed into her mouth, locking the door while her hands balanced her bag packed with her employee information, her computer, and her disposable coffee cup. Despite her protests, Sabrina had listened to Caroline in clothing suggestions, wearing the short green dress with a cream turtleneck underneath. She even paired it with a pair of brown knee-high boots that matched the brown jacket hanging around her shoulders. But she was fairly certain that having a pastry hanging out of her mouth ruined the image Caroline had been aiming for.
She grabbed the keys from the door, somehow managing to link her new keyring onto her black lanyard around her neck. She ran down the porch stairs, leaping over the last two. All Sabrina only knew one way to arrive at an important engagement— late.
She stepped over Peanut the cat, saying, "Sorry!" around an enormous bite of Danish.
She would make it on time this morning, she lied to herself. It was only a ten-minute walk. Yes, she could make it. Why had she started to unpack this morning? She knew that she would get caught up and—
She thought this as a jogging Mrs. Persimmons halted in front of her. She nearly dropped her coffee.
"Sabrina Forbes?" The middle-aged woman with a gaping grin asked. "Is that you?"
She had barely swallowed the last of her breakfast when her neighbor wrapped her arms around Sabrina's waist in a damp, sweaty embrace. What the woman lacked in slenderness, she compensated for in brute strength. She squeezed tighter, nearly lifting the younger woman off her feet, and Good Lord, this woman was an octopus.
"Sakes alive, girl! I didn't know you were home!"
She finally released Sabrina who struggled not to take in an obvious deep breath. Placing her hands on her hips after rearranging all the items in her hands, Sabrina gave a pleasant smile saying, "Mrs. —,"
"Oh," she patted Sabrina's forearm, overtop the cuff under her sleeve. Mrs. Persimmon didn't notice the oddity. "Now, you don't need to call me that anymore. You're grown now. Call me Helen,"
Mrs. Persimmon's— no…— Helen's peculiar Wisconsin lilt in her voice made Sabrina's smile a bit more genuine. She had always known Helen to be a lifelong resident of Mystic Falls with no previous Wisconsin influences in sight. Sabrina respected her dedication to being different in a small town that treasured uniformity. She wished most of all to respect it from afar. Like from the library far. You know, where she was supposed to be in thirty minutes.
But Helen persevered with all the subtlety of a Category Four tropical storm, "You know, dear, my Brandon is about your age still. He was so disappointed when you left for school. I don't suppose you've found that special someone, have you?" She said with a wink.
Oof. There it is.
Sabrina considered being truthful; really, she did. But that's definitely not the route her mouth chose to take, "I have actually," she said brightly.
Helen's shoulders dropped. Helen's mouth pursed before she hurriedly pasted on a smile. "Oh, really?" Her voice tightened.
"Yes. He's wonderful. He's a—," What to pick, what to pick, "a historian actually." She decided. She wondered how this story came so easily. "He was always so smartly dressed and made history come so alive when we would talk. He's passionate about what he does. It's like he actually lived through some of the things he would talk about," she said, even allowing herself to become a bit dreamy-eyed.
"You met him out east, I suppose?"
"Yes. He travels a bit, but I hope you'll be able to meet him sometime,"
Helen looked down at her watch, suddenly bored. "That's really wonderful, Sabrina. But I have to keep my pace." She started at a jog again. "It was nice seeing you again, dear,"
Sabrina waved at her back. "You, too,"
She waited until the woman was several hundred feet away before she covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. God, she lived for small-town life sometimes.
She glanced down at her own watch. "Crap!" She spun around and ran in the opposite direction of Mrs. Persimmons.
Late, late, late! She was going to be so late!
A/N: A little foreshadowing with that description? Maybe, idk.