Post by kristy on Jun 3, 2014 15:06:58 GMT -5
=/= Airports. Oh, how she hated airports.
Like one big clusterfuck of humanity split across the middle, each half trying to push through the crowd in the opposite direction but not getting anywhere fast. Everyone seemed to be in a rush as if they were trying to run from somewhere or something. Many seemed happy to be back on solid ground, stepping onto American soil for the first time in hours.
Among the crowd rushing to greet loved ones, or just aiming simply exit the human stampede, was one figure that appeared not to be in a rush, moving almost in slow motion, as if to delay an inevitable. No matter how slowly she moved, though, she knew what was waiting for her.
“Kristy” had finally come home. Or at least to the place she used to call home...
Keeping her head low as she passed by those who held up signs desperately waiting for loved ones, she avoids eye contact in the hope she wouldn't be recognized by a fan eager to get a photo in the middle of an airport terminal.
Where there is one fan, there is sure to be many others close by...
Swiftly picking up her meagre luggage she kept moving- the exit was in sight, the weather seemingly perfect.
It was almost taunting her. She never wanted to return here, at least not under these circumstances... =/=
***********************************************
It was never meant to happen...
It was a mistake, just one little mistake...
How could it possibly have ended like this?
It can’t be my fault... I didn’t mean to do it...
This can’t be real...
***********************************************
=/= That damn sun - since when was the weather so... inviting? She tried to ignore the pleasantness of the weather as another taxi was poached just before she could reach it. Cursing under her breath, she took a step back, hoping another taxi wouldn't be far away. The jet lag was really starting to kick in now and all she wanted was to be able curl up and sleep in her own bed.
Her own bed? That was a joke... She couldn't even tell if she was coming or going.
In her momentary distraction, another taxi was poached from right in front of her; she cursed under her breath again, muttering to herself distractedly. First stop would have to be her storage unit to retrieve her "baby", because this whole waiting for a taxi business was becoming ridiculous.
Another 10 minutes passed before a taxi arrived at the terminal;"Kristy" nearly had to race a flustered looking businessman for it, but she gave him the sweetest look she could manage and opened the door. The taxi driver was an older gentleman, his greying hair ruffled from the long shift and dark glasses possibly hiding the bags under his eyes. He smiled at her before fiddling with his GPS...=/=
"Where are you off to darl?"
"Richmond Public storage units, thanks"
=/= She opens the boot and chucks her luggage in carelessly before sliding into the passenger seat; they leave the airport in silence as she simply stares out of the window. As they leave, the driver starts trying to make small talk, maybe in an effort to make her feel comfortable=/=
"This your first time in Richmond?"
"Nah, used to live here a couple years ago but have been away travelling... for work..."
"Ah work, huh? What is it that you do, modelling or something I’m sure..."
=/= He turns briefly and gives her a polite smile, a smile which is returned both begrudgingly and half-heartedly. =/=
"Not really, its, well, complicated"
Ah, well fair enough. Ain’t nothing like coming home though, right?"
"Yeah, something like that..."
=/= The small talk continued, "Kristy" remaining careful not to give away too much about herself to a complete stranger. Eventually, they pull into the carpark of Richmond Public Storage. The driver offers to help her with her luggage but she politely declines and pays him the fare before disappearing into the complex.
The complex was like a maze, all the building painted off white, some carelessly 'tagged' by local artists with too much time on their hands. The complex had seen better days, scannin the little number above the shutters of each unit she finally found number 178. Kneeling down gingerly and Kristy shuffles through her key chain- testing several against the padlock until one of them fits and the lock clicks open. The shutter rattles as she lifts, straining to get it open high enough for her to get in safely.
"Kristy" pauses for a second, gazing around at her newly-opened treasure-trove. A few cardboard boxes lay gathering dust against one wall, however the large object in the middle of the room, covered by a canvas sheet, draws her attention almost immediately. Taking a hold of one corner of the canvas she peels away the protective layer, letting out a little sigh as the item underneath is revealed.
Finally reunited, the dark green paint shines as the canvas is dragged away until her baby; her 1970 Chevy Chevelle is once again free. She takes her time to appreciate the beauty of the machine in front of her, running her hand over the cool metal. The one thing that she’d missed could never love her back, but she didn’t care one bit...
She climbs into the driver’s seat and takes a deep breath - that musty, storage smell fills her nostrils as she turns the keys in the ignition and rolls out of storage. Closing up the storage unit once again, she cruises out back onto the road. She knew where she had to go now. =/=
********************************************
It could have all been prevented but where did this chain start?
Its like a god damn fucking circle...
Maybe if I’d never left in the first place, would this have happened anyways?
Fuck knows...
What’s done is done. Can’t change the past as much as I wish I could
So much blood on my hands...
********************************************
=/= Nothing had changed- maybe she had expected it to but maybe that expectation was unreasonable. The underground carpark was dark and gloomy as ever, every shadow looking as though someone was hiding and waiting for the perfect victim. There was only another two cars parked up, the rest of the tenants probably had normal 9 to 5 jobs and to a degree she envied them for that.
Choosing a park close to the elevator, she grabbed her luggage and made her way over. Despite having been away, she could have made that walk with her eyes closed. Pressing the button, she waited and secretly hoped that maybe the elevator would break on its way down and that she'd have to stay in a hotel or something but sure enough, the doors slid open and she stepped inside, making sure to press number 5 then watched the doors slide shut with a soft thud.
No escape till the 5th floor.
The generic 'ding' signalled her arrival; before stepping out the door she made sure to press every other single button before the doors closed again behind her. An old habit born perhaps out of paranoia and the irrestible urge to 'stick it' to the world, even by small inconviniences. Stepping out, she gazed down the hallway, it was like she'd never left - the same eggshell colored walls, the dark wood doors with their brass numbers, the same ugly, almost light teal carpets along the hallway. A male tenant she didn't recognize smiled and gave her a polite nod as he passed her by. She knew she must look like shit - jet lagged, lopsidedly carrying her luggage down the hallway.
Lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed apartment 503. Maybe, subconsciously, she'd done it deliberately. Why? Who knows? But it didn't matter, she was here now, although she secretly hoped there would be a vacant space where the apartment once was. Pulling out her keys, she shuffled through till she found the one she was looking for and unlocked the door. And there she was.
Home. Supposedly.
Untouched for a bit over 2 years, her 2 bedroom apartment looked as though everything had been stopped in time, just with a thicker layer of dust than what she remembered. What she didn't remember, though, was it looking so... empty. The black leather couch looked older than she remembered, the coffee table still stacked with magazines, her bookshelf had seemingly attracted more dust than anything else and all her photo frames proved it; she could barely make out most of the faces through the grime. The kitchen area was still tidy as though it had barely been used, which was pretty much true anyway - she'd always been away so much. Her double bed still made as though it had been done that morning, she couldn't help brush out a couple creases that she'd missed. Yet more photos on the bedside tables where the faces were hidden behind years of collected filth.
The bathroom seemed to be one of the only parts untouched by the years, everything clean and in its place- she couldn't help but look in the mirror as she passed, the person she saw in the mirror wasn't the same person who left Japan days earlier, something of herself had been left behind, maybe more than she cared to admit... Staring into the reflection of her eyes she couldn't help but notice a hollowness, a sadness that penetrated to the core. She knew the "Kristy" that had left the US was not the same "Kristy" that had just returned home. Perhaps she'd never even left.
She couldn't tell, perhaps there was no choice in the matter- maybe the choice was only her own belief that she could control this somehow.
She knew she was kidding herself, there was no way she could ever truly go 'home' again...
As she flopped down on the couch, a cloud of dust that had been previously settled was now thrown up. She coughed a couple times, irritated by the dust, before leaning back into the couch.
Ain't nothing like coming home...