Royally Emma, Lucia Roberts [black female authors TXT] 📗

As I watched the clouds I thought about Constance and about Irish Man (who seriously needs a name). I wondered what Constance would do if he were in my shoes. Would he have taken the risk of talking to the guy? Would he have taken the coat even though it was cold? Is he thinking about me too? And why would Irish Man be so kind as to leave a coat and hand write a map for a person he doesn't know and has hardly even seen the face of? Ugh. I don't have the answers to my own goram questions! I turned my wrist as I dragged my hands over my face to see the time and how much longer I had in this place and I almost shrieked. I don't have my watch! I sat up and felt my wrist frantically to see if it's invisible or something although, plain as day, it wasn't there. I clawed my hands into my hair and stared at the ground with my head in my hands as I searched the grains of sand for any memories of having or not having my watch while being here. I couldn't remember. I never had any need for time or any sense of it. I slept through most of it so time didn't matter. It never has here. Which, might be a blessing to some who have busy lives while not in their Other-Realm, but my life depends on time; revolves around it even. Every second matters. So why couldn't I remember? Oh Gods, this isn't good.

My head snapped up as I heard a twig snap somewhere to my left. I scanned the woods quickly and didn't see anyone, but I definitely heard something... I don't think I can blame squirrels for that one. So, I ran. All the way back to my rock. I decided I'm staying here for the rest of the night. So I curled up against my rock and stuffed my hands inside the opposing sleeves, pulling my knees inside the waist and listened to a chirpy version of ole man Billy Idol til I fell asleep.

Year: 2094
Month: October
Day: Thursday
Time: 2:04:58 PM-RW

As soon as my eyes opened into the afternoon sun pouring into my room, I sat up all too quickly and looked to my mother who sat in her rocking chair with her eyes closed and head back against the chair. Her brown hair was still wet as it hung loose just over her shoulders.

 “What happened over there yesterday?” she asked me in a small voice.

 I closed my eyes and willed myself not to hurt inside. I was late. Again. Or, rather, I guess on time now that I've fucked up my whole system. Damn that Irish Man, why the hell did he have to find me? On the bright side, I guess I wasn't home any later than yesterday, so my little adventure to the water didn't phase anything. I really didn't know how to answer her questions because I'd never told her, or anyone besides Constance (kind of), anything about my world over There. How could I make someone understand a story that has no setting and no named characters?  I'm not sure how that story would end, besides with a confused set of receiving ears. I really don't want to start telling her stuff because then she'll ask all the time. This is one of those things you just know because she's your mom; ya know? That would be a never ending ganghad I don't feel like feeding for the rest of, well, however long I have.

 “Nothing happened Mom. Really. Nothing went wrong, I just did something by accident that I'd never done before and I guess it messed something up. I won't be doing it again; I assure you. But that could not even be what happened. Maybe this is normal for my kind.” I glanced at her. She looked kind of scared, in a girlish sort of way, and it made me want to spill. She gave me this look that said 'I know you're hiding something' that quickly dumped sarcasm all over the fear that was there a moment before.

I opened my mouth but it quickly shut. No words were there. What could one say when there was no way to tell her one part of a huge story that you don't want to tell? Well, there isn't anything. So I just looked at her helplessly. She crossed her arms. This wasn't over. She wanted answers. Who could blame her really? After looking after me, a freak of nature who is gone half the time like a mental patient, whom she works all the time to care for, really who could blame her to want to know what's happening in said child's world that hurts things in her world? Nobody.

 “What did Dr. Marrone say?” Ah, at last, a question I could answer.

 “He didn't say much. He took a lot of notes about my health and such. Details on how I came back, if there were any problems or anything; which there weren't.” I looked pointedly at her as I said that last part. “And I don't think he figured anything out since he wants me back today.”

 I hated sounding so sassy, but I was done with this goram conversation. She looked like she wanted to say more but didn't know which one to let out first.

 “Why were you crying in there?” Now I looked down. I couldn't answer this one honestly ither.
 “I was scared. Why else?” Still sassy. Oh well. She threw her hands up in the air.
 “Fine. Don't tell me anything. But there'd better be a good goram reason for it!” I winced as a door slammed from somewhere upstairs. Its better this way. If she doesn't know anything and I do get stuck there one day, she won't think I chose it, and to be away from her. I will never choose that.
The MedBus pulled up about an hour later. My mother didn't say much so I didn't ither. What was there to say really, when you couldn't talk about your days because they were repetitive? Hers was work and watching me 'sleep' and mine was, well, I'm not telling her so it's pretty much a dead end conversation there as well. Normally we'd talk right before I fall out so that I could tell her the newest things happening with my best friend or maybe something funny Constance said (not that I call him that in front of her) or whatever because my days are rather short lived. No pun intended. We sat next to each other and listened to the drone of the “don't do this speech” we always hear; but this time, I really wanted to yell at the guy to shut up because we know it practically by heart after all these goram years of finding ourselves seated on this bus.

This time when we arrived, Constance was awaiting us in the lobby. Something about that just made my stomach crawl. I almost felt sick. I scanned my watch quickly and then approached Dr. Marrone with a held breath.

 “Come,” he said “I have news.”

His stride was urgent but his voice was steady. As we paced him uneasily, I noticed it was the first time I couldn't  even guess what he was feeling. For whatever reason, I felt extremely closed off by that realization. He opened the door for us and we nervously sat down in front of the desk. He had file folders everywhere over the desk and the bookshelf by the door, and the wall screen TV was paused on someone in the middle of a sentence. When I looked back in front of me I found Constance rooting through the growth of paper on his desk for something. A note pad, apparently, as when he found it he started flipping through it and muttering to himself. He was seriously making me nervous now, although, I was beginning to think it wasn't bad. He would be more sullen and grave in the face; probably not so flustered. That at least, gave me a spark of hope. I watched him closely as a cowlick he normally keeps brushed back fell onto his forehead from his dark, military style, short cropped hairline.
His eyebrows furrowed in the most attractive way and a small dimple formed between them giving him a somehow light look of innocence. I know I should be scared to death right now and freaking out over my future, and I was, but I was so focused on the man in front of me that I wasn't quite aware of it anymore. He always has had that effect on me though. Constance has been my one un-changing hope, my safe guard, my constant. I always pretended his name was chosen for that reason: to symbolize him being my rock, my constant.

 He finally stopped rummaging around and looked at us both in turn. He took a deep breath and then looked down at the things piled on his desk again. “I've been going through files of my older patients and have asked around for other files of patients who have had this happen to them in their course of being in record with us.” He looked at me with a slight pointedness. I took this as a note to listen down and keep my mouth shut. “This has happened to many patients before when something seems to have changed within the Other-Realm they are co-inhabiting. Only a small percentage of them have had any further changes after the first time.” He looked at my mother now, and spoke to her as if I weren't anywhere near here. “I don't see a high chance that Ms. Rapohannock will have any more time changes. I can not promise you this, so don't mistake me when I say these things.”

He had his hands folded and he was leaned towards her slightly, his stance comforting and promising and believable. However, I knew better. He was keeping something from her. I would find out within the evening. I heard her let out a breath and she grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I squeezed back. I love her; and I really hope she never has to know what happens to me when I'm not here with her.

“ I have done what research I can with what little we have for me to access. I hope this will at least comfort you for now.” He sounded so sincere that I almost believed him. I wish I could. I dared a look at my mother and she looked like she was about to cry as she shook her head in a yes gesture. He looked at me now, as her eyes were to her lap, and said “I would, however, like to keep a watch on her tonight just to see if I can observe anything else that may be of use to us.”

Her hand tightened on mine for a moment. I know she hates leaving me. She looked at me and I tried to give her a reassuring smile. It must have been convincing enough because I received a small smile in return.

 “Go do