Eden looked around the living room of her new apartment, bare but for a few basics. A table and a couple chairs were tucked into the small dining nook, a futon served as a couch, and there was only one bookshelf. She could see into the tiny kitchen, where thrift-store appliances sat on clean white counters. The bedroom was equally spartan, just a bed and a cardboard box with a couple t-shirts and a pair of jeans.
She was lucky to have this much, she reminded herself. She could be dead, or in the hands of what the others called "low men." But at that moment, she didn't feel very lucky--she felt lonely, confused, and still more than a little scared. It had only been a few days since her life had been turned completely upside down, and she still had moments where she wanted nothing more than to wake up from a bad dream.
It was like the first few weeks in 'Nam; the comparison helped her. She'd kept it together then, she could do it now. True, back then she hadn't dealt with other realities and roads through an expanse of nothingness. But right now she wasn't watching young men die, wasn't smelling the gore and sweat and antiseptic. Different situations, but they called for the same reserves of strength. There was a place within herself that she'd always been able to touch, a place of calm and serenity that had buoyed her through the worst times of her life.
It had helped, to stay with Carrie. Now that she was in her own apartment, there was no one to talk to. Not that they'd spoken much, but there was comfort in the younger woman's presence. Eden smiled as she thought of the almost sleepover they'd had with Penny. She hadn't done anything like that since she was in high school, and it had helped to do something so normal and silly.
She felt bad, though, that she'd clammed up when the girls had asked about Alan. It wasn't like her, to avoid talking like that. It had just hit her in that moment that she'd left it all behind, probably forever. It had been a staggering realization, and she'd wanted to change the subject before she started crying and ruined the whole night. Eden picked up Alan's jacket from the back of the "couch" and ran her fingers over the patch with his last name.
She'd thought she'd accepted never seeing him again, but she had to be honest with herself. Over the last three years, she'd hoped to hear from him. It didn't have to be a romantic thing again--they'd been friends, and she missed him. Even a phone call was out of the question now. Alan might as well be as dead as Fuzz. Tears stung her eyes as she put the jacket back down. It was all spilled milk, and nothing she could do would change it.
She thought about her new companions. It was a strange group, and only something as weird as fate and a tower that held together an infinity of worlds could have brought them together. Penny was a good kid, but her heart ached to see someone so young exposed to so much. Eden could understand the girl's wish to be taken more seriously than her age generally warranted; if Joe Schmo on the street had been through just a fraction of what Penny had seen, he'd have some respect.
James was a mystery. Carrie had told her that he was a vampire, although it was obvious the Dracula stories were to be taken with a grain of salt. He'd worked for the Crimson King, and that made Eden wary--or maybe it was the fact that he'd betrayed the last people he'd worked with. She didn't think he'd ever hurt Penny--the kid had his heartstrings wrapped tightly in her fingers. She was trying to reserve judgment, but her first impression was of his cold and almost mechanical demeanor. She wondered what kind of person he'd been before the Crimson King got a hold of him.
Ashleigh made her think of a Georgia boy who'd been evac'ed to the 1019th; good ol' boys who always had a smile and an endearment on their lips. The little glass turtle Ashleigh had given her was one of the only things that sat on the little bookshelf in the corner. She felt a little nagging worry; whatever Ashleigh had been through in the todash dark, it had marked him. She hadn't seen him at the office, but when she and Carrie had taken him donuts, he looked like the wrong end of a week of whiskey.
She'd spent more time around Carrie than any of the others. Eden was still unsettled by the younger woman's heroin addiction, but she wasn't going to lecture or harass her about it. Carrie felt as if she were worthless without her visions, and Eden thought that might be more harmful than the drugs, at least at this point. She felt like she didn't really know Carrie any better, despite having spent more time with her. Carrie seemed to focus entirely on other people, which made it hard to get to know her for herself.
Alistair--Eden wasn't sure why Penny called him "Doctor"--was interesting. A genius with a typical New York attitude, he'd warmed up when she asked about the changes in technology from 1978 to 1999. Alistair obviously got on better with machines than people--he'd spoken lovingly of the leaps and bounds in computer technology. The information had been a little overwhelming, but he'd still been easy to talk to. He'd lived through the same world events that she had--even though for him it was all 20 years in the past.
But for all the strangeness of the group, it did feel right to Eden. For better or worse, she was bound to these people and they to her. If she got to know them better, they'd seem less strange to her. Maybe she'd ask Carrie to go out to that furniture store with the weird name--IKEA--and help her pick out some things to make this place look more like home. They could go out for lunch somewhere, and maybe she could get Carrie to talk about herself.
She looked around. Already, the place seemed less bare... and more like a canvas waiting for paint.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
In a New York minute....
Eden paused as she grabbed her purse; for the last week or so, she'd had the creepiest feeling every time she left the apartment. Like someone was following her, but she couldn't spot anyone suspicious. She shuddered. It was too much like that time outside of Saigon, before the mortars started falling and so many of the men in the 1019th had died. They'd been shadowed by the Cong for days beforehand, and she'd felt that same sick suspicion.
After only another moment of hesitation, she took the small Beretta out of the top drawer of the cabinet in the hall and slipped it into her huge, woven purse. Not for the first time, she silently thanked Alan and Fuzz for defying orders and teaching her how to handle a gun. They'd had the guts to question why the U.S. Army would send a woman to the jungle, but leave her defenseless. The Cong didn't care if you were a woman, or if you were medical personnel; if you were white, you were an enemy.
The war was three years ended now, but she sometimes felt like she'd carry it inside her forever. She had it better than most vets, though. She'd been spared a lot of the horror, and she'd been busy saving lives, not taking them. Eden thought of the last time she'd seen Fuzz, and his empty, haunted eyes. It was hard to believe that she'd only gotten the call a month ago. Suicide. Tears stung her eyes again, and she brushed them aside negligently.
She'd gotten used to crying over the deaths of her friends. It wasn't Fuzz killing himself that really got to her. She should have seen it coming. She'd known he was hurting--she'd felt his hurt, plain as day, but she hadn't realized how serious it was. Eden was so busy, working at the hospital and volunteering half of her free days at the soup kitchen, she hadn't even seen it coming.
Eden went out into the hallway and locked the door behind her, checking the doorknob to make sure it was secure. She walked down four flights of stairs to the street and nodded to Lenny, the security guy. Making a quick detour into the alley between her building and the next, she dug a plastic baggy full of cat food out of her over-sized purse. A quick look told her that the skinny, half-grown stray she'd been feeding wasn't there, so she just emptied the baggy into the little plastic bowl she'd hidden behind the dumpster.
Walking back out into the open, she caught a gust of chill October wind. It was only a few blocks to the grocery store, but she was glad she'd grabbed a jacket. Eden snuggled down into the warmth of the old military jacket, and the comfort of its large size on her spare frame. Today was a nostalgic one, she was realizing. Alan Torres had given her this jacket the day her plane had left Saigon. She fingered the patches on the sleeve--the insignia of the 1019th Combat Support Hospital, Torres' corporal's badge.
It was too bad that he'd been married; they'd had quite a thing going overseas. But that was how things went during wartime--you found comfort where you could in a godless land. Still, she'd left his name embroidered on the breast, a reminder of something she'd cherished while it lasted.
Eden waited at the edge of the street, tapping her foot as she waited for the light to change. The sunlight poured down, and the air was crisp and clean from the rainstorm that had blown through a few days previous. It was a beautiful day, and she was glad she had the day off at the hospital. It was the kind of day that made it hard to believe she'd been so paranoid lately. New York would do that to a person, even they hadn't been in a war.
Something caught her eye. Half the street signs on the intersection were upside down. Not again, Eden thought irritably. Some bunch of punks had been vandalizing the neighborhood for about a month now. Nothing serious, but it was a nuisance to the neighborhood. Maybe they should start up one of those "neighborhood watches". She'd talk to Maria Alvares; the woman lived across the hall from her and was the biggest gossip in a four-block radius. If anyone could get something like that mobilized, it was Maria.
Eden smiled as she crossed the street and let the tide of foot traffic carry her towards the store on the corner of the next block. She'd pick up some sangria fixings, invite Maria over for a drink and some gossip. And within a week, she knew she'd be seeing the first "Neighborhood Watch" signs being put up in shop windows and apartment lobbies.
She almost laughed as she swung into the corner store. She'd been so bogged down lately, with Fuzz, and being followed, and all the stress at the hospital. She'd forgotten what it was like to simply let go and have a good day. Maybe she'd even let Maria talk her into a date with one of her numerous marriageable male relatives.
After only another moment of hesitation, she took the small Beretta out of the top drawer of the cabinet in the hall and slipped it into her huge, woven purse. Not for the first time, she silently thanked Alan and Fuzz for defying orders and teaching her how to handle a gun. They'd had the guts to question why the U.S. Army would send a woman to the jungle, but leave her defenseless. The Cong didn't care if you were a woman, or if you were medical personnel; if you were white, you were an enemy.
The war was three years ended now, but she sometimes felt like she'd carry it inside her forever. She had it better than most vets, though. She'd been spared a lot of the horror, and she'd been busy saving lives, not taking them. Eden thought of the last time she'd seen Fuzz, and his empty, haunted eyes. It was hard to believe that she'd only gotten the call a month ago. Suicide. Tears stung her eyes again, and she brushed them aside negligently.
She'd gotten used to crying over the deaths of her friends. It wasn't Fuzz killing himself that really got to her. She should have seen it coming. She'd known he was hurting--she'd felt his hurt, plain as day, but she hadn't realized how serious it was. Eden was so busy, working at the hospital and volunteering half of her free days at the soup kitchen, she hadn't even seen it coming.
Eden went out into the hallway and locked the door behind her, checking the doorknob to make sure it was secure. She walked down four flights of stairs to the street and nodded to Lenny, the security guy. Making a quick detour into the alley between her building and the next, she dug a plastic baggy full of cat food out of her over-sized purse. A quick look told her that the skinny, half-grown stray she'd been feeding wasn't there, so she just emptied the baggy into the little plastic bowl she'd hidden behind the dumpster.
Walking back out into the open, she caught a gust of chill October wind. It was only a few blocks to the grocery store, but she was glad she'd grabbed a jacket. Eden snuggled down into the warmth of the old military jacket, and the comfort of its large size on her spare frame. Today was a nostalgic one, she was realizing. Alan Torres had given her this jacket the day her plane had left Saigon. She fingered the patches on the sleeve--the insignia of the 1019th Combat Support Hospital, Torres' corporal's badge.
It was too bad that he'd been married; they'd had quite a thing going overseas. But that was how things went during wartime--you found comfort where you could in a godless land. Still, she'd left his name embroidered on the breast, a reminder of something she'd cherished while it lasted.
Eden waited at the edge of the street, tapping her foot as she waited for the light to change. The sunlight poured down, and the air was crisp and clean from the rainstorm that had blown through a few days previous. It was a beautiful day, and she was glad she had the day off at the hospital. It was the kind of day that made it hard to believe she'd been so paranoid lately. New York would do that to a person, even they hadn't been in a war.
Something caught her eye. Half the street signs on the intersection were upside down. Not again, Eden thought irritably. Some bunch of punks had been vandalizing the neighborhood for about a month now. Nothing serious, but it was a nuisance to the neighborhood. Maybe they should start up one of those "neighborhood watches". She'd talk to Maria Alvares; the woman lived across the hall from her and was the biggest gossip in a four-block radius. If anyone could get something like that mobilized, it was Maria.
Eden smiled as she crossed the street and let the tide of foot traffic carry her towards the store on the corner of the next block. She'd pick up some sangria fixings, invite Maria over for a drink and some gossip. And within a week, she knew she'd be seeing the first "Neighborhood Watch" signs being put up in shop windows and apartment lobbies.
She almost laughed as she swung into the corner store. She'd been so bogged down lately, with Fuzz, and being followed, and all the stress at the hospital. She'd forgotten what it was like to simply let go and have a good day. Maybe she'd even let Maria talk her into a date with one of her numerous marriageable male relatives.
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