Carpathia IV: Episode 185 - New Life
Amenaru's Bedroom, Andrast
Amenaru awoke to the shrill sound of his alarm clock and stirred in his bed, groaning, before he could muster the ability to pat around to find the source of the noise. He patted the bed, a long way to get to the edge, before his hand dropped off and then reached behind him where he found a headboard. There, finally, he found his phone and turned off the alarm.
But that wasn't right. He had a side table next to his bed on Shadowdancer, with a built-in alarm. He hardly ever used his phone on the ship.
Amenaru's eyes fluttered open and he brushed away the eye boogers. It took some time for him to figure out where he was. It was his family home on Andrast, not Shadowdancer. This couldn't be right. Was he still his younger self? Was this another thing he had to change? He grabbed his phone from the headboard and squinted at the screen. Year 213. That was the current year when he... well, died, but it looks like that didn't happen. Still, the question remained and nagged like a persistent bee. Why was he there and not on Shadowdancer?
Amenaru sat up and gazed across his room. Everything was relatively normal, aside from some minor things out of place or missing. All except his drum kit, his pride and joy, which was missing entirely. This, more than anything else, spiked his anxiety. With trepidation, he stepped out of his bed and went to his wardrobe to look for something to wear for the day.
But what did he do during the day? That was another big question and the contents of his wardrobe were ominous indeed. Mostly button-up shirts and slacks, and ties. Only three t-shirts that he could see and two pairs of jeans, way down from his previous count. No exploration force uniforms, but he didn't really keep those at home anyway. Holding out a faint hope that he was, perhaps, on leave, he slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and headed down the ladder.
Through his room and then down the back stairs, Amenaru peered around the main level of the house. Mostly normal. TV and couch on the right. Dining space on the left. Nobody in either space, but that wasn't unusual. From the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs wafted towards him. His dad, as usual, the chef. As Amenaru sat behind the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room, he wondered what he might say. "Hi Dad. Tell me about my life for the last ten years." That would be weird. He had to think carefully.
Amenaru: Hi Dad.
It was a start, but his dad did not respond, except to shoot him a dirty glare from the side of his eye before turning back to continue his cooking. Cue many minutes of awkward silence.
Amenaru: So... um... do you know where my drum kit is?
It was a question posed out of sheer desperation, for if it wasn't in his room, it likely wasn't anywhere in the house and he would seem like he'd gone out of his mind for asking. True to form, his dad looked at him again, this time with a confused, scrunched up face.
James: You sold it. Eight years ago, along with all your guitars and your fiddle. How the hell could you not remember that?
Though his face showed confusion, his voice, gruff and curt, expressed irritation, as though he'd have preferred that Amenaru never spoke at all.
Amenaru: Oh... Um... Is Mrs. Tiggywinkle here?
James: Did you hit your head or something? She died 5 years ago.
Amenaru decided to keep his mouth shut from then on. He wanted to ask more, about his life for the last ten years, but he couldn't think of any way to do that without looking like he belonged in a looney bin. Still... he suddenly wondered why he even asked such a thing. Did he play before up to now? He felt like that was something he did, but he couldn't recall for sure. And why did he ask about Mrs. Tiggywinkle?
James: You'd better change after you eat. You can't go to work looking like that.
Of course, Amenaru thought. He couldn't go to work in jeans and a t-shirt. This, he somehow knew for certain, but he didn't understand why. While he mulled, his dad turned abruptly and slid a plate of bacon and eggs unceremoniously toward him. He'd already turned back to the stove by the time it stopped.
Amenaru's dad threw some more bacon into the pan, presumably for himself, while Amenaru munched on his own, lost in his own jumbled mess of thoughts. Was his dad always this unpleasant? Something about it seemed right, but still felt completely wrong at the same time. When he was about halfway finished, he heard the familiar thump thump of footsteps coming up from the basement. He turned to look and found Meri making a quick stride to the front door.
Amenaru: Hi Meri.
Meri ignored him as she rounded the corner and went straight out of the house. Another thump thump, this time from the back stairs. It was Ramses.
Amenaru: Hi, Ramses.
Again, no reply, and Ramses followed Meri right out the door.
Amenaru: I guess they're in a hurry.
James dropped his spatula which landed with a clatter and then gripped the counter as though he were trying to break a chunk of it off. Finally, he wheeled around and, for the first time, glared at him with both eyes.
James: What do you expect? Every word out of your mouth when you talk to them is criticism of their art and how they're wasting their lives!
James turned back and grabbed his spatula from the counter, clanking it hard against the iron skillet as he aggressively mixed his scrambled eggs.
Amenaru: Oh... Um... well, are you playing anywhere tonight, Dad?
Up to now, the conversation had gone badly, but this was, evidently, a gross miscalculation of the highest order. James spun around again, this time keeping an iron grip on his spatula. If a glare could stab a man to death, this would be it.
James: Really? Really? We're doing this now? Usually you at least have the courtesy of waiting until after you're off work to have a go at my life. There's nothing disreputable about being in a band, theater, or drawing comics. You want to be an accountant and that's your choice. Let me have mine.
James tipped the skillet of bacon and eggs onto his plate and clanged it back on the stove. With a flick of his wrist, he killed the gas and picked up his plate, stomping out of the kitchen toward the living room, leaving Amenaru in a confused daze. As he wondered what sort of person he had become, the footsteps behind him suddenly ceased. Amenaru turned to find that his dad had stopped, head low, with a more contrite expression.
James: Look, I know I shouldn't have sent you on that band tour all those years ago with those crazy people. That was wrong and that's on me. I don't know what happened out there to make you so smug and judgemental. You were never like that before. My offer still stands to get you therapy, but if you want to continue making everyone miserable, I'm going to have to ask you to get your own place. Enough is enough.
James turned away momentarily and sighed while Amenaru just stared at his breakfast, hoping that he didn't notice that he was about to cry.
James: I love you. We all do. I just hope you figure yourself out. Now finish up and get dressed before you're late for work again.
James left, up the stairs, leaving Amenaru all alone in the cavernous main floor. Tiggy told him that he would eventually forget his old life on... a spaceship? He thought it was a spaceship, but the name eluded him. That memories of his new life would take over. He was starting to think that this wouldn't be a good thing at all.
Commissioned art in this episode from:
AvareonArt
Zelbunnii
Less_End
Thatwildmary
Colourbrand
Falke2009
