Beach Day

49: Rats, Blasphemy, Muffins

There's nothing to be done about the state of things. There's nothing she can do, anyway. There's just an endless march of event after event until she finds herself trapped deep down under the earth, between living and dead. She is always between living and dead. It's the state of humanity; it's the state of Tiff Sheridan.

She wakes with Andy curled into her and his arms around her, with Kepler near her head, with a thousand things wrong and no way to fix them. Waking up tired is nothing new, but waking up jaded is a terrifying deviation from the norm.

What can be done about it? Nothing.

She doesn't want to solve the mystery anymore. She realizes it with her head on the lopsided pillow, looking up at the ceiling. She just wants all of this to be over.

Drew went to bed at the foot of where she and Andy were laying. Somehow, Aunt Esther ended up in the same bed. It should be comforting— but what about the kicking? What about Kepler touching people's teeth? Maybe none of it matters, when it comes down to it.

She extricates herself from the pile, bringing Kepler with her. She holds him in her arms like he's a stupid little baby. She was the stupid little baby all along. Awake now, he looks up at her. Hope.

She shakes her head. There is no hope here.

Sitting at the table, she slides on one boot and ties it with quick and angry fingers. It's odd to wake up like this— the want to back out, to not want to see things through to the end. It's a "let's get this over with" malaise. There's no joy in the process anymore; there's just an endless knowledge that the only thing to be done is to end it. The next step is the next good thing; the only way out is through.

Chosen One malaise— but she is not chosen. She volunteered. She doesn't even have the right to feel like this.

Tiff pulls on her other boot, shoves her foot deep down into it, tries her hardest to keep quiet in the early morning gloom. She grabs a granola bar from the box on the dresser, grabs a second one based on instinct, shoves her notes into her bag, and scoops up Kepler in the same motion as her jacket. She goes to let herself out, not thinking much more than that she needs to get out of here.

She gets ten feet down the hall with Kepler dozing in her arms again before the door opens. She pauses, not sure if she wants to turn around and risk losing her nerve, or keep going and risk alienating whoever left sleep behind to come after her. Both are selfish. Where, then, is the greater good?

Knowing that she can't keep it up forever, Tiff turns around slowly, with breath caught in her throat. Everything in her screams that she doesn't want to do this.

It's Drew. He's still in his pajamas, holding the keys in his hands. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to confront the Mystery Lady and end all of this once and for all," she whispers, feeling mostly hollow and kind of annoyed. "What the hell else would I be doing?"

"Well, could you wait?

"I'm just going to walk."

"Tiff, you're being insane."

"I am not being insane."

"You're not walking there."

"Why not?"

"It's like fifteen miles away! At least!"

"You don't think I could walk that before sunrise?"

"You're a lot of things, Tiff, but you're not Superman."

"Superman wouldn't need to walk. He can fly."