Trying to ignore the pounding behind her eyes, the grand-mama of all migraines, Amy pushed through the double doors of Roxy’s Bus Stop Depot.
The diner opened at five every morning and Amy was hardly ever late for her shift. But the digital clock by the old grill read 5:34. God, the smell of bacon grease and fried eggs made her want to puke all over the wood floors.
She poured herself a Diet Coke and glanced around for Carmen. Her car was not in the lot but she could’ve hitched a ride with Derrick. Unless she was still behind bars?
Amy sipped her coke while sitting at the counter, a long beige breakfast bar with rounded edges and chipped borders. Roxy eyed her from the grill where the nauseating bacon and egg fumes originated.
“Don’t just sit there like a bump on a log.” Roxy waved a metal spatula. “Need some breakfast to help get the lead out?”
Amy gagged. “No ma’am.” She slipped the vial from the pocket of her apron and sipped from it.
Sheriff Bowden held open the door. Carmen stalked into the diner.
Still dressed in her Betty Boop costume from last night, mascara smudged, hair a mess, she walked past the Sheriff without making eye contact. Her uniform balled in her hands, Carmen strode to the bathroom. Silent all the way.
The sheriff set his black drab hat on the counter and took a seat on a stool.
After tying her apron, Amy poured a mug of coffee for the good sheriff. “You didn’t make Carmen spend the night in jail, did you?”
The sheriff narrowed his eyes then tipped the mug to his cracked lips. All the answer she’d get from him ‘til he finished his coffee.
Female, hear me.
Not again. Amy ignored the arrogant voice. The voice isn’t real. She repeated the mantra silently as she wiped down the stainless steel around the coffee station.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted her mother entering the diner.
Amy groaned. What a day for her to visit. Somehow she had to keep her struggle with her sanity a secret. That woman wouldn’t hesitate to have her committed again, just like she’d tossed her own sister Carol into the asylum. She poured another mug of coffee and set it at the opposite end of the breakfast bar.
A bitter scent singed her nostrils and her stomach rolled. Bile crept into her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed while her head pounded, a rhythmic drum behind her eyes.
“Something ain’t right,” she said. “I should’ve stayed home today.”
Amy’s mother took a seat at the counter where Amy had set the coffee. “Remember me? I birthed you. What was it? Twenty-five years ago?”
Amy sighed. “Twenty-three.”
So she hadn’t called her mother in over a month, but the woman was more like a stranger, not to mention a diva and a snob. Amy snatched a menu from under the counter and dropped it next to her mother’s manicured hands.
Amy!
The monster in the mirror at the Bull flashed in her mind.
I abide by your rules yet you refuse my callings.
From behind, a hand gripped her shoulder. “You alright, mami?” Dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt, Carmen gave her a concerned look.
“I’m not a female!” Amy pushed through the double doors, past the grill and into the storage closet.
Standing at the far end, face pressed against a carton of to-go cups, Amy heard the door open. She looked at Carmen standing in the threshold. “If I tell you something, can you promise to keep it a secret?”
Carmen said, “You even have to ask?”
Amy released a deep sigh. She slumped to the floor with her back against the metal rack stacked with paper goods. “I keep hearing a voice in my head and that’s not the worst of it. I think I’m going crazy.”
Carmen sat on a crate of condiments across from Amy. “When aren’t you?”
Amy smiled at the sardonic grin on Carmen’s face.
So what if everybody thought she was crazy. Maybe she was, but what should have felt like a scarlet letter, felt more like a badge of honor.
Despite not caring what anybody thought of her, she didn’t want to be locked up again. Never again.
“What about Aunt Carol?” Amy asked.
“You are not her and I don’t believe a word of that ‘it runs-in-the-family’ nonsense.”
“It’s not just that. I’m nauseous and dizzy.” Amy hung her head between her knees. “I met a real life alien. Right here in Buckeye.” She looked at Carmen. “You think I’m crazy?”
“You. Are. Not. Crazy.” Carmen grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. “Come on, chickie, let’s go get your mother outta here before she sprouts horns and starts ordering new born children.”
As Amy and Carmen returned, her mom slapped the menu down. “Don’t you serve English muffins or anything that isn’t saturated in grease or made from dead animals?”
Amy gave Carmen’s hand a reassuring squeeze and mouthed thank you before crossing the dining room toward her mother. “We serve the same food we did last time you were here.”
“Listen, dear, I went to the galleria with Debra Vanderhort in Houston yesterday and she says her son, Thad, just got accepted into veterinary school at LSU.”
“That’s nice.” Amy grabbed the pot and refilled Sheriff Bowden’s coffee.
He looked up at her. “She made me miss American Idol.”
Grimacing, Amy backed through the swinging door to the kitchen. She gave Charlie, the cook, a nod.
“You sick?” Charlie asked. The old black man always wore long sleeve shirts while cooking so his face was constantly shimmering with sweat. How in tarnation could he stand the heat?
“If by sick, you mean hung over, then yes, I’m very, very sick.”
Charlie chuckled, deep and from the belly. He slipped a cooking apron over his gray-haired head. “I remember those days. Chug-a-lugging all night and yuking all day long. Thank the good Lord above he straightened me out real good.”
“Got any Ibuprofen?” Amy asked.
Carmen popped through the doors and tossed Amy a packet of Alka-Seltzer. “Take two now and keep away from children.” She tossed a dirty coffee mug into the soapy sink. “Amateur.”
Amy dropped the tabs into the glass and drank the rancid fizzy concoction. She put on her happy face and went back out to the dinner room. Approaching her mother, full of resolve not to be bullied by yet another deranged creature. The one in her head was more than enough.
Her mother said, “So, you could be available if I tell Thad to give you a ring, right?”
“I’m seeing and living with Shane and you know it.”
Her mom sipped her coffee and slid a lock of her golden hair behind her ears. “He’s a bit of a troublemaker and he won’t ever add up to much. You deserve a promising young man like Thad. Don’t you want to get out of Buckeye and see the world like your sister?”
“Vanessa isn’t seeing the world, Mom. She’s in Houston working as a hair stylist.”
“Well, she’s more cultured than you, dear. She’s currently seeing a pre-med student. You would know that if you ever gave her a call.”
“Cultured? How do you figure? She’s a hair stylist, a vegan, and constantly gripes about how everyone in Texas are cow-loving morons.”
“Better than being a waitress in this dive for the rest of your life. You are just like your father was, content with living a boring life in Hicksville.”
Amy clenched her teeth. Her hand wrapped around her Diet Coke. She could feel the heat surging into her cheeks. Damn her mother!
“Mami?” Carmen ushered Amy toward the drink station. “Could you stock ice?”
“Sure.” Amy pressed through the swinging doors and back into the kitchen.
I’d love to smack the snob with ice! She leaned her ear against the closed door and listened.
“Mrs. Wintry,” Carmen said.
“Hello dear,” her mother said. “How are you?”
“I mean this in the nicest possible way,” Carmen sneered. “But shut the fuck up or I kick your ass out.”
Amy imagined her mother’s face contorting in annoyance. She stifled a laugh.
“Always a pleasure,” her mother said.
“How goes it, spending your dead husband’s money?”
“I hear your mother has fallen ill. Fortunately, you were able to get her across the border. Mexican medicine is not nearly as advanced as the States.”
“I’m Puerto Rican, you stupid bitch. And my mother was born here and so was I.”
Amy sucked in a breath.
“I’ve never met a Hispanic who says otherwise,” Amy’s mother said. “But that’s neither here nor there.”
“My family’s owned chicken farms here since 1935. My family’s richer than you’re sorry white ass. Put a million dollar perfume on a turd and it’s still just a piece of shit.”
“It’s really too bad they never caught that awful maniac who dismembered all those people on your family’s farm back in ‘82 Were you even born then?”
Amy pushed through the double doors. “Please leave.”
Amy’s mother slipped her purse over her shoulder. “They serve better breakfast and coffee at Denny’s. And they don’t have sassy foreigners working there, either.”
Amy held the door open. “Today’s not a good day. I’ll call you later.”
“No you won’t, but it’s sweet of you to say so.”
As her mother left the diner, Amy darted an apologetic look at Carmen.
“One of these days you’re going to tell that woman to fuck off and I hope I have a front row seat.” Carmen shook her head. “I’ll stock glasses.” She disappeared behind the double doors.
Amy’s phone dinged twice: a text from Shane.
On my way home. I’ll text when I get closer. No reception in BFE.
Amy smiled and forced herself to ignore the churning in her stomach and the banging in her brain. She grabbed a rag and spray bottle and began wiping tables.
Maybe Carmen was right and it was just all in her head. Think positive, she told herself.
“We’re open,” Roxy yelled from behind the line. She straightened the netting over her tightly permed white hair. “Get this place in order. We need ice tea brewed, ketchup bottles refilled and on the tables, and dinner salads brought forward from the walk-in. This ain’t a family reunion, girls, so stop looking like this is your first rodeo and get the lead out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amy walked to the bathroom to pee and freshen up. When she finished her business, she lathered her hands and rinsed them under warm water.
Female.
Amy glanced up. Instead of seeing her reflection, she saw the blurred face of the young boy, the trespasser of her mind and her mirrors. “I asked you not to call me that.”
Do not doubt your sanity or my existence.
Amy hung her head, clutching her stomach, as hysterical laughter overwhelmed her body.
She regained her composure and looked into the mirror. “Bathroom time is off limits. We discussed this.”
I was uncertain you would recall our communication last eve.
“I’m not drunk now and I’m telling you that bathroom time is not permitted.”
I wish to validate my existence. What must I do?
“You’re telling me you’re real? Start by telling me who are you, where you’re from and why me? And bypass the cryptic ‘dark trinity’ stuff.”
I come from a time not of yours, nor of your world or of your universe.
“Oh, that’s so much more helpful.”
I do not understand your tone, but neither do I care. The Beast has chosen you because something most special is within you.
“So this Beast wishes to eat me? Is it a tiger? A bear?” She covered her mouth. “Oh my.”
He is Geminus, king of all beasts, neither tiger nor bear, for they are his servants as are the hounds and serpents. It is life within you that he was sent to claim.
Amy hesitated.
You will know him when he comes, for he will wear the Narkush stone, a powerful gem that only the Geminus possess. It is the vessel of their souls.
A nervous laughter escaped her. “I’ll play along. What does this gem look like? What does this Beast or Geminus, as you say, look like?”
I cannot say what the Geminus will look like as I have not beheld his face in over a decade. The stone will gleam a thousand shades of ruby and the Beast will hold it near his flesh.
“How do you know so much about this Beast?”
That is a long story and I must depart soon.
“Wait. Could you at least tell me your real name?”
My given name is Tobias.
Amy brought her face closer to the mirror. “Will you be there when the Beast comes, Tobias?”
The voice never replied.
“Have mercy.” She swatted the counter with an open palm. Ice tea needed to be brewed. Roxy wasn’t paying her to carry on absurd conversations with the people in her head.
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