Amber Poe, again and again.
Aug. 14th, 2004 12:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crowsAfter pacing through the second portion of my note-to-self (the fine print) several times, we came to a poorly maintained retaining wall. The uncomfortable tingling sensation in my extremities flared as I touched the deeply lined stone. Trent stood on in slice as I followed my hands, pressing my fingers into the ruts where the mortar had been.
One of the stones was loose. It took me a moment to work it free, nonetheless, but after a time it clattered against the asphalt beside my feet. At this point, my companion perked up, peering closely over my shoulder as I dug around in the dark dirt. What I fished out was a small, very small, piece of paper and a key. I extracted them both.
The slip unfolded to reveal more instructions… broken down into paces and cardinal directions. I grimaced at them, and looked up at Trent in the sunlight.
“Jesus, what was I, some kind of pirate?” I whispered to the air, thinking automatically of what treasure I had left for myself that was so well hidden.
“No, not really.”
Suddenly, I realized, for the first time, that Trent might – no, did – know something about my lost past, about what was done to me. Several seconds passed, and then a minute, there in the sunlight. I tried to capture Trent’s face in my mind. I must have known him, from before that terrible midnight in the apartment not my own; owning nothing, not even a name. I wanted it to be in his face. I wanted to decode the young lines, the day’s growth of half-blond stubble, the honest blue-green eyes.
He stared innocently back at me, obviously uncomfortable beneath so hard a gaze. I didn’t relent, for another minute or so, and when I finally broke my stature, I shook a finger at him silently in the space between us. His lips framed the word ‘what?’ as his palms lifted helplessly. He honestly didn’t seem to know, what I knew now. His mind had not followed mine in those communeless minutes to the conclusion that I had finally discovered. After another second or two, I realized how very stupid it was for me not to have thought of that before. He came for me, did he not? Knew at least something of who I was, knew that I was being accosted wrongly… why wouldn’t he know more? Why shouldn’t there have been information prior that lead him to my rescue in the first place.
Needless to say, I was infuriated. With myself for not thinking, and with Trent as well for neglecting to say anything. I stared down at my paper another moment, tried to focus on North, and started walking. Trent followed me, albeit at some distance, and I came to perhaps the largest piece of my personal puzzle yet. The metaphorical ‘x’ marked a parking space inhabited by steel grey sedan dusted with a few days of debris from the trees surrounding the parkinglot. I fingered the key, and did not look up at Trent, because my anger at his negligence to inform me of what he knew was still burning.
The key fit in the door, popping it open. The interior was clean, and unfortunately empty.
One of the stones was loose. It took me a moment to work it free, nonetheless, but after a time it clattered against the asphalt beside my feet. At this point, my companion perked up, peering closely over my shoulder as I dug around in the dark dirt. What I fished out was a small, very small, piece of paper and a key. I extracted them both.
The slip unfolded to reveal more instructions… broken down into paces and cardinal directions. I grimaced at them, and looked up at Trent in the sunlight.
“Jesus, what was I, some kind of pirate?” I whispered to the air, thinking automatically of what treasure I had left for myself that was so well hidden.
“No, not really.”
Suddenly, I realized, for the first time, that Trent might – no, did – know something about my lost past, about what was done to me. Several seconds passed, and then a minute, there in the sunlight. I tried to capture Trent’s face in my mind. I must have known him, from before that terrible midnight in the apartment not my own; owning nothing, not even a name. I wanted it to be in his face. I wanted to decode the young lines, the day’s growth of half-blond stubble, the honest blue-green eyes.
He stared innocently back at me, obviously uncomfortable beneath so hard a gaze. I didn’t relent, for another minute or so, and when I finally broke my stature, I shook a finger at him silently in the space between us. His lips framed the word ‘what?’ as his palms lifted helplessly. He honestly didn’t seem to know, what I knew now. His mind had not followed mine in those communeless minutes to the conclusion that I had finally discovered. After another second or two, I realized how very stupid it was for me not to have thought of that before. He came for me, did he not? Knew at least something of who I was, knew that I was being accosted wrongly… why wouldn’t he know more? Why shouldn’t there have been information prior that lead him to my rescue in the first place.
Needless to say, I was infuriated. With myself for not thinking, and with Trent as well for neglecting to say anything. I stared down at my paper another moment, tried to focus on North, and started walking. Trent followed me, albeit at some distance, and I came to perhaps the largest piece of my personal puzzle yet. The metaphorical ‘x’ marked a parking space inhabited by steel grey sedan dusted with a few days of debris from the trees surrounding the parkinglot. I fingered the key, and did not look up at Trent, because my anger at his negligence to inform me of what he knew was still burning.
The key fit in the door, popping it open. The interior was clean, and unfortunately empty.