Elizabeth City * :: L.A., 2002 :: “Ever heard of Elizabeth City?” Sydney turned to Will, puzzled. She laughed. “What does that have to do with the bad points of my job?” Will cocked his head to the side. “Nothing, really. But I got a letter from my aunt today.” “…And?” Francie interjected, placing a glass on the bench near Sydney. Sydney grinned, taking a bite of her apple while Francie plopped onto a stool. Will shrugged. “Just one of her check-up letters.” He cleared his throat. “How’s your job? How’s your health? Married yet?” he mimicked. “She wants me to visit.” Francie and Sydney grinned, and Sydney took a sip from the glass, apple in the other hand. Francie reached out and slapped Sydney’s arm for taking the drink, and she choked slightly, giving it back. “So she lives in this Elizabeth City?” Sydney asked, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” Will nodded. “It’s in North Carolina. Nice little place. Only ever been there once, when I was about nine.” “What does your aunt do there?” Francie asked. She looked closely at her nails, and then tilted her head up to look at Will. “Nothing.” Francie raised her eyebrows sceptically. “Truly. Nothing. She lives there, says it’s nice, and spends her days in her garden. ‘A place for Elizabeths’, I think she said.” He laughed and leaned over the bench. “What’s her name?” Sydney asked, curious. “Clemency.” Francie giggled. “What kind of a name is that?” Will laughed again. “It means mercy. Or kindness. But whether it’s one or the other, or both, she has neither.” Sydney smiled. “So… basically, your aunt lives in this Elizabeth City and does nothing? Just… relaxes?” Will nodded, his blue eye twinkling. “Pretty much.” Francie shook her head. “That’s the kind of life I want.” “Me too, definitely,” Sydney agreed. (Me too) :: * (Elizabeth City – 10 miles) Raindrops spattered the windscreen, the wipers moving them away swiftly. It was almost nine AM, the sky was covered in dark clouds, and the rain was still pouring down. Sydney focused on the road in front of her, trying to get more comfortable in the newly-stolen-in-Richmond Ford. It was a dark green, an old, common model. Sydney had been driving continuously since Charleston, her one stop being Richmond to buy some coffee at an all-night diner and steal a new mode of transport. Now she was almost where she wanted to be. (A place for Elizabeths) Elizabeth City. The perfect place for her. She was going to go blond – curls this time – with grey contacts. Her name was going to have to come up later. Right now… she just wanted to disappear again. (In a place where I can still be Elizabeth) “Welcome to Elizabeth City.” Sydney spoke the words out loud as she passed the sign, a little speck of yellow through the grey of the world around it. She yawned, the fatigue hitting her for the first time in eight hours, and tried to focus on the streets around her. (Motel, motel…) She spotted one, a small sign advertising vacancies. Heart Of The City Motel. She smirked, wondering how many motels had that same name… she pulled into its barren parking lot nonetheless, driving round to the side of the small brick structure. She grabbed her bags and slammed the door shut behind her, traipsing to the motel entrance. She stepped into the entryway, standing in the foyer for a second and glancing around. Didn’t smell, didn’t stink, wasn’t as dirty as she thought it’d be. The floor was clean, beige-coloured carpet; there were some orange plastic chairs standing at the side next to a small table of magazines; and to the right, there was a small counter. Sydney walked over to it, breathing in the smell, which reminded her of hospital anaesthetic. Cleaning products. (Well, at least they actually clean here.) She leaned over the counter, and rang the bell that stood just next to a guest book. It pinged happily, echoing slightly in the emptiness, and after a minute, a small woman appeared, dressed in a long black skirt and flowered blouse. She smiled shyly, her demeanour immediately putting Sydney at ease. “Good morning,” she began, picking up a pen. Her nametag read Susan. Her clear amber eyes were cheery but tired, and her hand shook slightly as she reached for a form. “Hi,” Sydney smiled back, trying to reassure the woman, who seemed a bit frightened. “You’re obviously after a room.” Susan smiled at her, then looked down, her short brown bob falling into her eyes. “Yes.” Sydney nodded back. Susan placed the form on the counter and looked up at Sydney. “There’s just a few quick questions I need to ask you.” She watched Sydney carefully, silently asking for permission. Sydney nodded again. “Sure.” Susan smiled, almost triumphant. “Name, please.” Sydney hesitated. (Pick something simple, but original, so no one thinks it’s you.) She cleared her throat. “Virginia.” Susan nodded. “Surname?” “Blair.” “And what city are you from?” Sydney furrowed her brow. Susan noted her confusion. “Oh, you don’t have to answer that. It’s just a kind of formality in case anything happens to you –” “No, that’s okay.” Sydney smiled, faintly this time. “I’m from New York.” Susan bobbed her head. “All right… I think that should tide us over for now.” She looked up at Sydney and tilted her head to the side. “I’ll just get you a room key.” Sydney smiled at her, and watched as she bustled back out through the door, heard the quiet rattling of keys before Susan came back out. She walked around the counter to stand next to Sydney, and then waved her arm in the direction of the rest of the corridor. “Follow me, then.” She walked off, briskly, her bob bouncing as she walked. She reached the second door on her left and stopped, turning to Sydney and indicating the door. “Room three.” She put the key in the lock and turned, opening the dark wooden door. She turned back and handed the key to Sydney, then smiled before she left. “If you have any problems… just come ask me.” “Thank you,” Sydney smiled sincerely at her, and then watched her for a moment as she walked back down the hall, slower than before. She walked into the room, closing the door behind her and looking around. Plain room – beige carpet, blue bedspread (well, thank God it’s not pink), radio, door to the right signifying the bathroom, and a small coffee table next to a small loveseat, both in front of the tiny television, which stood on a wooden crate, partly covered by a blue gingham tablecloth. Sydney smiled. It was better than the last room (at least they have a TV) - homier, quainter. She liked it. She set her bags down next to the wall and sat down on the bed. Yawning, she lay back, breathing in the slight dust that rose from the unused mattress. Glancing to her right, she noticed a payphone installed on the wall behind a bedside lamp. She raised her eyebrows, approving, and then covered her mouth with her hand. (Shit. Melissa.) She moved to the other side of the bed, sitting up and leaning over for the phone. Pulling small change from her pocket, she placed a coin in the slot and dialled Melissa’s cell phone, once, twice, three times, four. She rang the code she’d told Melissa to follow (three, two, one, three, four), and then rang again. The phone picked up after one ring. “Hello?” The voice was definitely Melissa’s, a little quieter and more scared than usual. “Thank God you’re okay. It’s Liz.” Sydney breathed a sigh of relief, lying back on the bed, stretching the cord of the phone. “Liz!” Melissa breathed out, excitement evident in her voice. “How are you? Where are you? Are you okay? It’s been days.” “I’m fine. I’m…” she hesitated. “I’m okay. How are you? And Gwen and Seth?” “We’re fine. A bit freaked out, but fine.” She paused. “Liz… where are you?” Melissa’s voice was curious, but not accusing. Sydney smiled sadly. “Mel, I’m sorry… I can’t tell you.” Melissa sighed. “That’s okay. I get it. Thanks for telling us to get out, Liz… or whatever your actual name is.” Sydney thought she might cry. “You’re welcome.” “I guess there’s a hell of a lot more you didn’t tell us in your letter, hey?” Melissa laughed, a forced sound, slightly pained. “Yeah.” Sydney nodded, biting her lip. “Look… I can’t stay on the phone. I just wanted to know that you guys were okay.” “Yeah, we’re good. Heading to Seth’s cousin’s house. He can keep us there for a while until…” she trailed off. “I’ll call you when everything’s okay, I swear.” Sydney forced out the words, hoping she wasn’t lying. “When I know you’ll all be safe.” Melissa sighed. “Okay. I guess I better let you go.” “Yeah.” Sydney frowned. “Bye Mel.” “Bye Liz. Thanks.” Dial tone. Sydney hung up the phone slowly, closing her eyes, and then fell back onto the dusty pillows and relaxed. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to imagine a day – a simple day, full of sunshine and colours and people who didn't scare her. A day when everything was peaceful, calm… perfect. (I’m never going to have that.) A tear spilled from her eye. (I’m never going to get simple.) She wiped her cheek, the thought propelling her into a fit of self-pity. (I’m never going to have perfect.) * “This can never really end It’s infinitely sad Can someone tell me when Something good became so bad? So if you have a cure To me would you please send A picture of my life, with a letter telling how It should really be instead…” * The radio in the room played random dance, trance and funk as night fell. Sydney was sitting on the bed, box of Thai takeout on her knees. Susan had been kind enough to point her in the direction of the closest restaurant, and Sydney had pulled on a hooded jacket and baggy jeans and headed out into the rain. She’d walked slowly through the downpour, staring at her feet, clad in running shoes, and wondered if she’d catch a cold. When she’d returned to the motel, she’d pulled out her hair dye and contacts. It had taken her forever to dye her hair and curl it so it looked natural, and the grey contacts were starting to annoy her. The blue ones she’d taken out had been thrown in the trashcan under the bathroom sink, little pieces of another life change, and now she was sitting there, eating Thai and listening to Jamiroquai. The world was weird to her in so many ways. The way things worked – and she wasn’t even thinking about her twisted life. She wasn’t thinking about the huge coincidence it was that her mother had killed Vaughn’s father; she wasn’t thinking about the coincidence it was that she was her mother’s daughter, and that Vaughn was his father’s son – that everything had been so completely screwed up. She wasn’t thinking about the coincidences that happened to her every day. Nothing like that. Just the way things were in the altogether. The colours around her, the way people worked, how things happened, electricity, light… she never took time out to think about any of it. But now that she had all this time to think… nothing wanted to enter her mind that she needed worrying about. Random thoughts pushed past the important ones, battling for space in her crowded mind, fighting all-out for the front position. But none of the thoughts seemed determined n staying. Her mind jumped from one topic to another, until she finally couldn’t think anymore. She grabbed her backpack, pulling out a book, settling back against the aired-out pillows. She flipped through the dog-eared pages to the bookmark (I put in the day before my birthday) and started to read. She settled back as she got absorbed in the words, drifting away. About a minute and three paragraphs later, the book went flying across the room. It hit the wall next to the window, falling to the floor. Sydney sat up, arms hugging her knees close to her chest. She closed her eyes, swaying, listening to the rain still pouring down outside, to the faint sounds in the room next door, to the radio. She couldn’t think straight, even though she tried, so she finally decided to give up and moved across the room to her bags. She pulled out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from the backpack, grabbing a pair of socks to warm her feet. Sydney crawled under the covers after changing, her sock-clad feet sliding against the sheets comfortably. She tugged the covers to her chin and rolled onto her side, her eyes drifting shut as she thought randomly about the dreams she was sure to have (even thought I don’t want them). Her mind cleared in the darkness of the room, and she fell asleep to the sounds of the radio. And dreamt of Elizabeths and Charleston. (And Vaughn.) * “There’s a place of my own I go that I have found When I’m left bare and cold, when there’s nothing at all I lift through the clouds, I go on a wave of sound I go on my own when the feeling calls… I’m floating above the ground so get used to it Cause I’m not coming down It’s sunny above the clouds You can’t touch me here…” * The motel was silent except for the beats coming from the radio in Sydney’s room. (Empty) The people next door – a couple from Alabama (how did they end up here, of all places?) – had left that morning, the man booming a fair amount of “y’alls” to Susan on the way out. Sydney had sat in her room, hearing everything, smiling at the simplicity of the scene. Now, it was two in the afternoon. And Sydney was lonely. She glanced out the window, which faced the barren, boring parking lot. The sky was still grey, rain falling sporadically, the weather ironically matching Sydney’s mood. (It could have at least been sunny. Added some originality.) She wanted to eat. Leave the room, which was slightly becoming colder. Go somewhere. She sat silently for a minute more, staring into space, then stood, pulled on shoes, a sweatshirt, a jacket, and wire-rimmed glasses, and left the room. She reached the counter and pressed the bell. Susan came bustling out. “Hello,” she smiled, reaching for a form. “Can I help you?” Sydney was taken aback. (I can’t look that different.) “It’s me,” she said, tilting her head. “Virginia. Room three.” Susan squinted, and then her face cleared. “Oh!” she exclaimed, embarrassed. “Sorry… I was thrown off by the, uh, hair…” she trailed off. Sydney smiled encouragingly. “That’s okay.” Susan seemed to regain some kind of confidence. “So what can I do for you?” she asked. Her face changed, reflecting worry. “Is something wrong with your room? Is it the television? Because the television can be – ” “– No,” Sydney interrupted, shaking her head. “The room’s fine.” Susan looked slightly puzzled. “Then what’s wrong?” she queried. “Nothing at all.” Sydney smiled faintly. “I wanted to ask you to come out with me… maybe help me find a place to eat lunch.” Susan’s confused expression became one of pure, glowing happiness, and a grin broke over her features, immediately making her look younger. “Okay,” she said happily, backing away excitedly. “I’ll just get my daughter to keep an eye out… and get my jacket… just a minute!” Sydney smiled and stepped toward the exit, waiting only a moment before Susan came out again. Her face was lit up, and she walked straight to the door. “Come on,” she held the door open, and Sydney stepped out into the grey world, where it had started to rain again. They started to walk quickly down the street, Sydney pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head as Susan led the way. Sydney noticed how much she changed almost immediately after stepping out the motel door: her posture became straighter, and as they half-walked, half-jogged through the shallow puddles on the sidewalk, she breathed in, closing her eyes, looking positively blissful. A few minutes later, Susan led Sydney across the street. They stepped into a small restaurant (diner. Typical.), sitting down in one of the brown-vinyl-and-blue-Formica booths. Sydney leaned back, inhaling the smell of coffee and hamburgers, feeling decidedly more comfortable. Susan looked over at her shyly, but not as shyly as before, and Sydney smiled. “So, Susan,” she began, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the tabletop, “tell me about yourself.” Susan blushed, and then paused slightly, thinking. Her face hardened. “Well, I’m forty years old… and for the past ten, I’ve worked in that motel. It’s horrible, and I hate it there.” She looked away, looking almost angry. Sydney was surprised. She hadn’t expected a sob story – she’d expected a short anecdote about Susan’s community college education, her wonderful husband and three children. (Or possibly the ‘two sisters, a brother and a Chihuahua named Lucy’ story. Not this ‘I hate my life’ story.) (God, doesn’t that just sound familiar?) “Why?” Sydney asked. Susan sighed. A waitress chose that moment to walk over, order pad and pen in hand. “What can I get you today?” Sydney thought quickly. “Uh… I’ll have a coffee, some fries, and a large salad, thanks.” The girl nodded and jotted down the abbreviated version of the order, her auburn ponytail swinging as she turned to Susan. “And for you?” “A coffee, cheeseburger, fries, and salad, please.” Susan smiled at the waitress. “How’s your father, Jackie?” Jackie half-smiled. “Better,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “He’s just being kept in for observation now. He should be out by the weekend.” “Oh,” Susan nodded. “Send him my love, okay?” “I will,” Jackie smiled, a wise smile for her age, which Sydney figured to be no more than sixteen. Jackie stepped backwards. “I’ll be back with your order in fifteen minutes.” Sydney smiled at her as she retreated. She turned to Susan. “Who’s that?” “That’s Jackie.” Susan looked after her, her eyes shining with a kind of parental love. “Her father and I were neighbours when we were kids.” “What’s wrong with him?” “You mean why is he in hospital?” Susan asked. Sydney nodded. “He has cancer. They’ve put him through a lot of tests and he’s just gone into remission.” “Oh, wow,” Sydney said, raising her eyebrows. Then something occurred to her. “Why isn’t Jackie in school?” Susan looked away sadly. “She dropped out. Her mother’s dead, and she has three jobs on the side, just so she can try and pay her father’s medical bills, and so she can buy food for herself and her younger sister.” Sydney’s mouth almost dropped open. (God, that girl’s strong.) She looked over to Jackie, moving around behind the counter. Her actions seemed to be mechanical and there was a faraway look to her eyes. Sydney guessed her thoughts were far away from a diner in Elizabeth City. She moved around, wiping down the counter, stacking mugs, and Sydney watched her, thinking. “Who are you running from?” Sydney’s head spun back to Susan. “What?” “Who are you running from?” Susan repeated. Sydney looked at her, incredulous, her eyebrows furrowed. (How the hell did she know?) Susan smiled back encouragingly. “Darl, I know how to read everyone. And a girl as pretty as you doesn’t sign into a motel like mine for a vacation.” Sydney let out a small, wry chuckle, shaking her head. “I’m that obvious?” Susan’s grin widened. “No. You’re not. I’m just perceptive.” Her smile held for a minute more, and then her face became questioning. “So… are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Her eyebrows raised at the question. Sydney paused. Thoughts raced quickly through her mind. (What have I got to lose? I have nothing left; I might as well just be obvious. I’m a rusty spy, I can’t do things right anymore… and everything’s gone.) She wanted so much, only there was nothing there to have. Everything had disappeared – the cocoon of a life she’d pulled tight around her had broken open, spilling her into the bright reality she’d tried to hide from so much. She was a butterfly in a harsh world without flowers. She had nothing left that she could believe in. (And I can’t be around Vaughn because he’s the opposite of what I want to believe is true.) Jackie walked over, tray in hand. She set down the coffees and the plates, then smiled at Susan and left. There was a moment of silence. Sydney looked out the window. The rain was falling more lightly now, the blue and yellow lights of the video store across the road contrasting against Elizabeth City's grey world. Drops of rain dripped off the side of the diner, falling to the sidewalk, making ripples in puddles. “I’m just… I’m just running.” The words came out quietly, sadly, with Sydney’s eyes still focused outside the window. Turning back, Sydney noted Susan's sympathetic smile and felt compelled to continue, “I’m running… because I’m scared.” (Scared of everything. Of Vaughn. Of myself. I’m just a coward, really.) Susan understood. “Is there… a man involved?” Sydney paused, then nodded. “Is he…” Susan hesitated, considering her words. “Does he… hurt you?” “God no,” Sydney shook her head determinedly. “Never.” “Then why are you so intent on escaping him?” Susan asked quietly. “Is there something else?” Sydney looked at her, at her wise eyes, her intelligent face, and didn’t know what to say. “It’s… it’s complicated, I guess.” She bit her lip, unsure, thinking about Susan’s question. (What exactly am I meant to say?) “We had an… argument. It wasn’t all that big, but I left.” “Did you tell him where you were going?” Susan asked. Sydney shook her head. “No.” She looked out the window again. “I don’t want him to find me.” “Are you sure about that?” Susan was half-smiling. She sipped her coffee, chewed on a French fry. Sydney picked at her salad before she answered. “Yes. I’m sure.” She bit into a piece of tomato, then gulped at her (amazingly not too bad) coffee, telling herself she was sure. (I am. I have to be, because if I’m not… he’ll catch up to me. And I’ll lose it.) Susan nodded. “If you say so.” She smiled, her face caring, understanding, reassuring. Sydney felt safer, almost better after spilling a few small details. They ate in silence for a few more minutes, and then Susan glanced at her watch, her eyebrows raised. “Oh, shoot,” she exclaimed, grabbing her purse. “I have to get back!” She was immediately flustered, confused, and Sydney felt a pang of sadness towards her. She reached out and covered Susan’s (trembling) hand with her own. “I’ll pay.” She smiled. “Go.” Susan hesitated, bills in hands. “Are you sure?” Sydney nodded. “Can you find your way back?” Another nod, another smile. “Well… if you’re sure…” Susan trailed off. “I’m sure. Go,” Sydney insisted, waving her hands in a ‘shoo away’ gesture. Susan considered a moment, then nodded and started to leave. Sydney called out. “Susan…” She turned. “Thanks, by the way. I feel better.” Susan smiled. “Glad to help. Bye, Virginia.” And with a small wave, she left. Sydney sat in the booth for another half hour, finishing her food, watching the raindrops break the calm surface of the puddle, thinking. Jackie cleared away the plates and mugs, still smiling politely, her eyes tired. Sydney felt a rush of sympathy for her as she watched her yawn on her way to the counter. Sydney finally stood, leaving the money for the meal as well as a large tip, and left the diner, walking into the strengthening rain, pulling her jacket tight around her. She walked slowly down the street, letting the raindrops rebounding off the pavement spatter her jeans. She let the water soak through her sweatshirt hood, let herself feel vulnerable. She stared at her feet as she walked, at her shoes, at the shallow puddles on the cold ground, and briefly wondered whether it was sunny where her father was, where Melissa was (where Vaughn is, where Francie –)… she sighed as she watched a couple of teenagers race across the street, ducking their heads from the rain as they ran to shelter. It took her ten minutes at her slow pace to reach the motel. She walked to the entrance, noticing another car in the parking lot (burgundy Mazda, Connecticut plates, probably passing through on their way to Florida), relishing the cold water spraying on her from above. She silently entered the motel with its clean smell, her shoes soaking patches of the beige carpet. The hallway was silent, and she pushed the hood back from her face, looking up. A man stood by the counter, his back to her, the shoulders of his long leather jacket splattered with raindrops, his light hair slightly damp. When Sydney froze, he turned around as if feeling her presence, Susan’s voice fading into the background as she asked ‘Virginia’ if she knew ‘this man’. They stood stock still for a moment, Sydney’s dismay painfully obvious, and Vaughn stared at her, his beautiful face tinged with anger and weariness (and something else), and Sydney couldn’t take it. She turned and ran. * AN: Lyrics are "Picture Of My Life" by Jamiroquai and "Above The Clouds" by paulmac. I think I overdid them... oops. :( > Charlotte < Charleston in Pink » babblings » home » mail?