A Sinking Ship

Down In Spirits

                                                                1992

I thought about the orphanage, and the way Joseph told me yes as I stared blankly down at the bowl of soup with genuine disinterest. It didn't look unappetizing. I just didn't have the will to eat it. In truth, I didn't have the will to do anything. They begged me to eat, to do something, but I blocked them out like pests. I did what I always did and stared. I wanted to be alone, and my scarred face did a good enough job in getting that done. I didn't bother me that they looked at me in disgust, scrutinizing every little detail before running away in fear. I would have found it amusing if I cared.

I heard them talking about me sometimes. Sometimes I'd catch them laughing at my incompetence to do anything, but more commonly I heard them gossiping about my willingness to do absolutely nothing. If it bothered them that much they should have just kicked me out. It would have made things easier for both sides.

I spent most of my time in bed, but when night came around and most volunteers left, I would pace around my room to get some of the feeling back in my legs. But it was also due to my PTSD that I had recently become acquainted with. I knew that my screams could be bothersome, and although I usually wouldn't care if I was annoying people, I didn't want to put myself through it day after day after day. I would pace for hours and hours on end before succumbing to fatigue and giving in to sleep.

I stared at the clock for a few minutes, counting the seconds as they went by. I hadn't eaten in roughly three days and my thoughts were more like shattered glass. Short and jagged. After they had thrown me out of military hospital, I had been much like that. Lifeless and agitated. Broken and useless.

The sound of footsteps emerged from behind the door, but I didn't take my eyes of the clock. During daylight hours, there were a lot of volunteers roaming the halls, trying to make their rounds as quickly as possible so they could have some free time. I didn't care for them. After they dropped off my food, they didn't come back. They knew I didn't eat, or drink, or speak, so they had given up on me. Fine with me.

I was genuinely surprised when the door opened and a short girl appeared behind it. My eyes drifted away from the clock for a second to observe the intruder. She had small brown eyes that shined bright in the presence of the fluorescent light bulb above us. Her hair was hidden underneath a gray, wool beanie, but a single strand of black hair sprung out in front of her face. Her face was weather beaten, red from the long exposure to the cold outside. I looked away from her as she undid her scarf and threw it onto a chair forgotten in the corner of the room.

"Hello...um...was it Jacob?" She asked. I allowed my eyes to drift over to her, but I didn't respond. Instead, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the backboard of the bed. She waited a while longer for my answer before resorting to her bag. She extracted a few papers and began to read through them.

"Ah, yes. Jacob Seed. A veteran of the United States army, fought in the Gulf War." She continued, trying desperately hard to keep up the one-sided conversation. "How are you?"

I opened my eyes, finding it hard to believe that one of the volunteers could care this much to actually try conversing with me. I had never seen her before. I met her gaze, and watched as her eyes followed my scars. But she didn't seem disgusted like the rest, she just seemed...intrigued. I shook my head, and looked away. She took that as a no and looked down at her lap, momentarily stumped as to what to say or do.

"My name is Reed. Reed Jones." She stuck out her hand, but I didn't take it. For a second, she looked hurt. She let her hand fall and cleared her throat. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She really couldn't give it up. No matter how stubborn I was, she was beating me at my own game. And it was really pissing me off. "How about I grab you a hot chocolate? It is rather cold out today..."

I raised my eyebrows, caught off guard by the suggestion. Was she really going to buy me something? Out of everyone she could be helping, she decided to indulge the least cooperative one. She took the movement as a sign and smiled.

"Okay then...I'll be right back." She turned around swiftly, and was out of the room with both her bag and her scarf in just a few moments. When the door closed quietly behind her, I returned to my usual business of staring at the clock, knowing that she wouldn't return.

She didn't seem to bet bothered by me in the slightest, which both peaked my interest and annoyed me at the same time. Couldn't she just leave a dying man alone? I made it pretty obvious that I didn't want to be disturbed. But that girl sure had some determination.

And yet it surprised me when she came back with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa in her hands half an hour later. She shook some now off her head as she placed my mug on the end side table, next to the bowl full of soup.

"Be careful. It's hot." She warned, sitting back down in the chair, enjoying the warmth of mug touching her skin. I gave her a quizzical look, and she raised her eyebrows. "What? Did I read the signs wrong?"

I shook my head before I even knew what I was doing. Even she seemed caught off guard by my sudden decision to answer. I didn't take a sip of the hot cocoa, and it seemed to kill her mood though. Good.

She sipped her drink quietly, and I watched her for a second. She looked up from her drink, and blushed under my gaze. "So...um...did you know it is snowing? How weird is that...?" She trailed off and looked back down at her drink, saddened by my lack of spirit.

"I've heard by many of the Volunteers that you were a bit...difficult. I offered to help out, thinking that it couldn't be that bad. I'm not saying anything bad about you, please don't think that. I actually find you pleasant to be around, even if it seems to be a one way street."

I chuckled deeply, and she seemed to brighten up. She finished her the hot cocoa with one final gulp and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, which pulled back a little bit. She looked absolutely terrified when she noticed that it had, and pulled it back up quickly, her face flushing deeply. I raised my eyebrows, but she ignored me. I watched as she gathered her things, flustered.

"It has been a pleasure, but it is getting a little late. Getting a bit tired, aren't you?" She asked. When I didn't answer, she nodded. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

My eyes fell to her hands, and she stuffed them in her pockets quickly. She left, and I watched her go, thinking about the gloves she had on.

She never took them off.

(Don't worry, I will return to the present with Ada! Thank you for 200 reads!)