A/N at the bottom…
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Spinning for Hours
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by Seaoknarnar
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Chapter 8: Surprising News
Quiet. The house was quiet. It was a sad sight, really. In the past the house was never quiet. There was usually something going on that gave the house a hustle and bustle atmosphere. But now, with most of its occupants gone, the house was often somber and quiet.
So when the front door banged open violently, and a fervid Lisa Simpson stalked in, it was almost as if the house was appreciative, longing for something to happen.
I stalked in to the house, slamming the door behind me. What a first day, I thought to myself. I ran up the stairs to my room. Sitting at my dressing table, I pulled out my trusty Log, and then proceeded to scribble furiously, almost to the point of illegibility.
~ Dear Log,
As you know, today was my first day at MBHS. And so much has happened, it will take quite some time to tell it all properly… ~
(I then filled up some 10 pages with the events of the day, and my impressions of the new school.)
~ …and so after Mrs. Finch left, I was left sitting by the fire. Of course I put the wine down (though not without a second thought), then I was about to leave when Theo walked over to me.
And the way the firelight reflected off his eyes! And then he said to me, "Once upon a time, I met a girl named Lisa."
Well, of course Log, this is exactly what I had been waiting to hear all day! SO what do you think I said to this revelation? Something profound, or romantic, or intelligent? No, of course not. I said, "Well, that's nice. I'd thought you'd forgotten me."
Now, Log, these words were absolutely mortifying, not to mention quite rude. You know, open mouth, insert foot.
Well, Theo got this puzzled look on his face, and then he said to me, "Well, actually, I didn't forget you, but I didn't realize who you were. You look way different than the last time I saw you."
Now, of course, Log, my brain and my mouth don't ever agree on the proper course of action. My brain wanted me to say, "Yeah, but now that your know who I am, we can be friends again." My mouth decided to say snidely, "Well, I had better look different. It has been six years."
I think Theo was a bit put off by this (I certainly would have been), because he said, "Yeah," and then an awkward silence followed. And log, my treacherous feet walked away from the awkward situation, and my mouth didn't even bother to say goodbye. So now Theo probably thinks I'm quite a 'big meanie', which may be true but I don't want him to know that. I think that tomorrow-- ~
I stopped writing as me ears caught the sound of the front door opening. My first thought was "Burglar," but then I realized that no burglar would stomp around as heavily as the person downstairs did. So then my brain went to "Homer," but this was almost as absurd, seeing how Homer didn't often come home before 11, if he came home at all.
But I suppose there's a first time for everything, because true enough, as soon as I got downstairs I saw the bulgy form of Homer. I yelled, "Hey, Dad! You usually don't come home so early."
He turned around, and I was immensely glad to see that he wasn't drunk. Sure, he came home drunk less often now, but when he did, it was hell. He would usually start raging at anything that happened cross his mind, and when he did this I wasn't really sure how to deal with that. I usually just shut myself in my room while he crashed around downstairs, breaking things and throwing stuff everywhere. And in the morning he would be passed out on the couch, covered in his own saliva.
But today my father was not drunk, and in fact, seemed in no way out of the ordinary. He greeted me with, "Hi sweetie, does Daddy need a reason to come home early once in a while?"
"No Dad, of course not," I replied.
"Well, actually Lisa, I was wondering if we could go out to dinner tonight. I have some stuff I want to talk to you about."
A red flag went up in my mind; we never went out to dinner to 'talk about stuff'. I wondered what it could possibly be that would cause such erratic behavior in Homer. "Sure, Dad," I replied. "Just give me a bit; there's something I want to finish."
"Yeah, I need some time too. How about 6 o'clock?" Homer asked.
After giving the affirmative, I went back up to my room, so I could finish my Log entry.
~ Woah, big news. Homer wants us to go out to dinner so he can 'talk to me about stuff'. We rarely have long, involved conversations anymore; I wonder if I've forgotten how to. Ever since *that woman* left, Homer has been gone so often. I don't think he really works as much as he says; after all, it is I who pays the bills and handles the income. (If I didn't, Homer would just drink all the money away.) I know that he doesn't get as much overtime pay as he should, if he works as long as he says. The question is, besides Moe's, where does he go and what does he do there?
This 'workaholic' phase ever since *her* departure is an improvement, I suppose, over lazy-ass Homer. But I wish that Homer wouldn't be so serious all the time; he used to be so light-hearted. I miss that. ~
I closed my Log, then puttered around in my room until 6, when we left. The ride over was without conversation, mostly because I was listening to my music in my blue-and-black-flame Cracker Factory CD player, 'acquired' for me by Tommy. Though I think the color effect was ruined by my choice of music: Gershwin is not exactly the essence of punk.
We went to Luigi's (now owned by Luigi's brother, Mario; Luigi had died the previous winter). After getting our table and placing our orders (spinach alfredo for me), Homer asked me questions about school: Was it fun? Did I like my teacher? Were there any cute boys?
To the last question, I responded, "Any girl who said 'no' would be lying, Dad. Yes, there are cute boys."
Homer smiled, and asked in a teasing tone, "Is Langdon Auger there?"
"Dad, I have been over Langdon Auger for years," I said, rolling my eyes and smiling.
Our food arrived, and we both dug in with gusto. I have to say, I did inherit Homer's appetite, but thank Buddha that I didn't inherit his waistline. The point is, I was enjoying my food, but at the same time wondering. Homer didn't bring is here to talk about school, or Langdon Auger. I put down my fork and asked, "Dad, what did you want to talk to me about?"
With a sigh, Homer put down his fork (a monumental feat for one so gluttonous), wiped his mouth, and started talking. "Lisa, sweetie, you know that recently I've bee working a lot more, right?"
Sure, I thought sarcastically, but nodded yes.
"Well, my boss told me today that he's been impressed by the way my work habits have gotten a lot better. He offered me a promotion, and with it, a raise."
My jaw dropped. A raise and a promotion? Were we talking about the same Homer here? It then dawned on me that Homer had changed a lot more than I knew.
Homer smiled, then continued. "The thing is, if I decide to accept this promotion, there are certain… conditions… that go with it."
The red flag popped up again. "What kinds of conditions?" I asked suspiciously.
Homer cleared his throat, then, "Well, I'm going to have to do a little traveling."
Oh, I thought. "That's all?" I asked. "Just a little traveling? Where, and how long, and how often?"
Homer responded, "I'm leaving next week for Toronto. I'll be there for five months."
Thunk. There went the jaw again. "Toronto?! As in Canada?! For five months?!" I asked rather loudly and stupidly. Everyone around us stared. "Does that mean we're moving to Toronto?" Oh, the unfairness of it all! I had finally found acceptance, only to have to move away from it!
Homer replied (much more calmly), "Well, see, that's the thing. Five months, though that seems like a long time, will go by really quickly. Before we know it, we'll be having to move back here. So I was wondering, Lisa, if you'd be willing to stay here while I go to Toronto. I think you're responsible enough to manage things; after all, you already pay the bills and do the grocery shopping and stuff like that."
"Wow," I said, "that's quite a situation indeed. Yeah, I'll do it." Kind of a no-brainer really. The house to myself for five months? I mentally tented my fingers, Burns-style, and thought, eeeexcellent. "You can depend on me, Dad."
"I thought so," he said affectionately. He beamed at me and we finished our food happily. I must admit, I hadn't felt that close to my dad in a long time.
"I should burn the school down," I grumbled angrily to myself as I climbed in to bed. "Then I won't have to go to bed at 10 o'clock like some baby." I knew, from experience, that if I didn't get enough sleep I could get bad migraines, which were definitely not pleasant. On weekends, I could get all the sleep I wanted, but school days were different. So a 10 o'clock bedtime was crucial, but also a definite pain in the ass.
I snuggled down in my covers and turned out the light. Nighttime was my thinking time, because I didn't have the obnoxious light to distract me and pervade my train of thought. Sleeping was the best part of my day: no cares, no worries, no complications. Only comfort and happiness.
I think that if I had to die, I would want to die in my sleep, painlessly and easily. There was always the chance that I'd go to sleep and never wake, and I had to wonder if that would be so bad: if sleep is happiness, then eternal sleep is eternal happiness.
The dream that I had that night, however, was definitely not happy. Honestly, it was quite disquieting. I was an astronaut aboard the International Space Station, along with another fellow astronaut. We were the only ones aboard, and we did everything together: eating, working out, fixing equipment, conducting experiments, etc. We were the best of friends.
Then, one day, we had to go outside the Space Station to conduct repairs on it. We both tied each other's lifelines, then drifted out and began to work. Suddenly, an alien flew up in a spaceship. The alien came out of the spaceship, then tied up its lifeline next to mine. Then the alien sidled up to my astronaut partner, and they whispered to one another, holding each other's hands, excluding me. The alien turned towards me, and I could see her large, dark, mocking eyes. She severed my lifeline, and pushed me off into space.
It was terrifying to be that way, spinning through space for hours and hours, knowing that I would eventually die a terrible death of starvation without my partner there to help me.
I woke up in a cold sweat, tangled in my blankets. I looked over at the clock: 1:13 am. Sighing, I turned back over to try and sleep, wondering what this terrible premonition meant for me.
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March 6, 2004
Well, what does Lisa's dream mean? I don't think it's hard to figure out…
I would have had this up sooner, but after writing it all out (on notebook paper), I didn't feel like typing it. Plus I was working on that stupid HP story that grew much long that I had intended… But I shouldn't make excuses.
A BIG SQUISHY HUG AND A THANK-YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED. YOU ALL DESERVE A HOMER PLUSHIE! ::throws out handfuls of Homer plushies::
I'll try and have the next chapter out before April, but I'm not promising anything. I started this story last April and all I've done is 8 chapters. _
Happy trails to you until we meet again.
R/R? Please?
~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~