Afterimage

Stranded in Parallel [Chapter 10]

Despite imagining Ohanzee probably going off and doing his own things, I couldn’t help but flutter around the notebook, glancing at the pages every once in a while. It was almost too late when I finally noticed the clock on the oven ticking off into the afternoon, when it was nearing the time Mom got back. After a final glance, I shut the notebook and dashed upstairs with it to hide it back in my room.

I situated myself before the TV in the back room, like I had been there most of the morning. Mom eventually did come home, dropped off her stuff, and marched back down the hallway. I glanced back at her with a not-too-happy smile that I tried to make as genuine as possible.

“Feeling better, I guess?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Mom nodded. “Still want to go out? Anywhere?”

I looked down at the floor. Then the TV. At myself, still in pajamas. Then back at Mom. I couldn’t tell if she looked tired from work, or if there was some sort of loneliness in her eyes. “Sure,” I muttered.

A smile that I hadn’t seen in a while crossed her face. “Good. I heard of a few good spots downtown. Let me get washed up. You should get changed… if you want to.”

Mom turned and nodded and almost gave me a chance to stand up and do as she said. She paused and turned back one last time. “Oh, and we can’t forget to mask up.”

As I rode in the passenger seat of the car, watching the unfamiliar town cross by, I couldn’t help but think of the similarities that Ohanzee had described. At some point, probably long ago, something happened that drove our worlds down different paths.

A familiar word on a building flashed by my eyes out the window and I couldn’t help but ask about it. “Mom, what’s Dakota mean?”

Mom pulled her eyes away from the road for a moment to offer me a glance. “Huh? Like the states? Well, the name comes from the Tribes that were local to these parts. I think Dakota is a part of the Sioux nation in general. We have some Sioux in our family. Do you remember old man Red Cloud from town, too? I’m pretty sure he was full Sioux.”

I nodded and shrugged a little bit before glancing back out the side window.

Mom reached out and patted at my shoulder. “Sorry, were you asking about what it means, though. Was it something like ally? Friend? Sorry, I should know these things better. Here, Nat. We’re almost at the mall. How about we shop for some clothes?”

My eyes crossed over to the other side of the car. Past the steering wheel was the massive white brick building, with an even bigger parking lot, filled to the brim with cars.

“I don’t need any clothes,” I mumbled.

“You do,” Mom said with a low groan. “You’ve been wearing mostly the same stuff all through middle school.”

I clicked my tongue. “School clothes? Do you think anyone is going to be looking at my clothes when I have a plastic bag strapped to my face?”

Mom had already begun to pull into the parking lot despite my objections. “If you give people a chance, they will give you a chance in return. They’ll get a chance to learn what a wonderful person you are, even if you do have to speak to them from behind a mask.”

“If it’s about my personality, then why even care about what I’m wearing?”

Mom snuffled and pinched my knee. “See, there’s that sassy girl people will be begging to hang out with. Come on, we don’t have to pick anything that doesn’t call out to you.”

I didn’t have a chance to say anything in return as Mom was already hopping out of the car with her keys and purse. I affixed the mask to my face and pulled my hood over my head. If people weren’t going to be privy to my face, they wouldn’t see the rest of me either.

The endless tiled hallways of the mall continued off like the arrows of a compass, leading to the complete opposite ends of the Earth. I stared out from under the rim of my hood at the passing people, many looking to be of school age. I would have felt like one of those Hollywood movie stars avoiding paparazzi if it weren’t for my mom lingering by my side, making comments about the store facades.

“This place has changed a lot,” she commented, looking up and down at the stores. “We came here a long time ago, back when… your dad had a training with his job here. Here, this big store probably has the best selection.”

The floor tiles transitioned from one color and size to another, meaning we were in another realm of discomfort. Mom eventually ended up drifting to one of the employees, who shoved us off in the direction of clothes matching my size and shape and age range.

The only time I let any of the clothes enter my field of view was when Mom brought them up in front of my face. I offered a few grunts and shrugs in response. That means of communication seemed to be of no consequence as she alternated between putting back some articles and laying others across her arm.

“Here are the fitting rooms,” she instructed suddenly at the rear of the department. “Go try some of these on. If they fit come out so I can see them.”

Inside the cramped room, I was faced with myself. At least, the parts of me not hiding under the mask and hood. I tried to ignore the set of angled mirrors as I pulled off my protective layers.

It had been a long time since I had looked at myself in the mirror. Any traces of myself in the bathroom mirror back at home were just afterimages able to be ignored. As I pulled the T-shirt off my head, I locked eyes with someone I didn’t recognize.

Halfway undressed, her ribs showed, her skin was pale, and her arm was decorated with splotches from various needles that had pierced her skin. Her hair was dry and unbrushed. Behind the mask on her face, I could see her tired eyes, even a frown. The person in the mirror was the person I had described perfectly in the notebook to the strange boy, a description devoid of any fake embellishments or sugarcoating.

The image of that helpless person dissolved behind a wave of tears. I hurriedly pulled my shirt back over my head, tucked my hoodie under my arm, and undid the lock, leaving the selection of clothes behind.

“Natalie,” said mom as I shuffled out of the fitting area.

I wiped my eyes on my baggy sleeve and fumbled to fix my hair. “Nothing fits me. Can we just go?”

---

Mom didn’t try to suggest anything else that day. After returning home, Mom retreated to the kitchen. “I’ll get started on dinner.”

I dashed up to my room, still imagining the sad, scrawny girl in the fitting room mirror. For a second time, I imagined ripping out the page where I had described myself, or blacking it out with the thickest marker I had. Pulling out the notebook, I threw it down on my bed and riffled through the pages, trying to find my way back to our last exchanges. Before I could vandalize my own work, my eyes fell upon the very last thing I had written, a little rounded face smiling. I had written in response to Ohanzee nearly missing breakfast because of me.

I found myself in the bathroom, notebook in hand. I dared to look at myself again. With the mask off and the semi-stranger’s words in my mind, my mouth couldn’t help but take on a hint of that shape that I thought I had forgotten. At least only for a moment.

There on the bathroom counter, I wrote a short response in the notebook.

“You might not see this for a while. But that’s okay. I was just thinking how crazy it would be if more than just these words could cross worlds. Like… if a whole person could cross between.”