Reverie by Eliza Andrews

Author:Eliza Andrews [Andrews, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-22T07:00:00+00:00

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Pounding. Fist on wood.

A pause.

Then pounding again. Ardie opens her eyes, surprised to find the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window.

“Ardie?” booms her father’s voice on the other side of the door. More pounding. “Ardie, wake up already. Daylight’s wasting.”

Another voice, words indecipherable, plays a warm, high-pitched counterpoint to her father’s baritone. Her mother, Ardie guesses.

“Oh, c’mon now,” her father says, cutting the other voice short. “She prolly jus’ forgot to set the alarm again. She’ll be glad I woke her up.”

Ardie glances at the digital clock on her nightstand, blinks at it twice when she sees that it reads eight o’clock. Eight? She sits up — too fast — a head rush threatening to force her back to the bed. She clasps the headboard with one hand, steadies herself.

It’s Saturday, she realizes with relief. She’s not late yet; the shop doesn’t open until ten thirty today.

“Ardie, you — ”

“I’m up, I’m up,” she says to the closed door as she stands. “You’re right, I stayed up late reading and forgot to set the alarm again. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Good,” he answers gruffly. “You still helpin’ me fix the John Deere this mornin’?”

“I am,” Ardie says. The John Deere is what Daddy calls the riding lawnmower — an absolute necessity on their three-acre plot of land. Truthfully, she wishes he’d let her fix it on her own, as her mechanical skill has surpassed his now, and when they work on projects together, he still defaults into the position of superior and teacher, which only makes Ardie want to wring his flabby old neck.

She makes her way around the bed to her dresser, pulling on a fresh undershirt and a t-shirt before she hikes a pair of worn, motor oil-stained blue jeans up and over her hips. She sits down in the rocker in the corner to lace up her boots.

Lucinda, she thinks, the name coming into her mind unbidden, possibly the last remnant of a dream she can barely remember anymore. A dream of sunlight and kittens and…

Lucinda.

She stands, inspecting herself in the full-length mirror. Maybe it’s time for another haircut? She finger-combs thick black hair into place.

Don’t be ridiculous, she tells herself. You’re not spending twenty-some-odd bucks on a haircut you don’t really need just because you want to see Lucinda again.

Almost a week has passed since she finished the work on Lucinda’s duplex. They’d had a nice enough conversation, but Lucinda seemed… off, somehow. More distant than she had been on previous occasions. And she kept looking at the door to the other half of the duplex as if it might burst open any time.

If you want to see her again, Ardie tells herself, go to her place. Or call her. Ask her out.

Pounding. Fist on wood.

“Ya ever coming on up outta there?” her father calls.

“Yessir, I’m coming.”

She fixes the John Deere (with very little help from her father) not long after a breakfast of black coffee, then finds herself on her bike, heading towards the shop earlier than she really needs to.

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