The Women Of Custer City Ch 23

If I were telling any other story, I think I'd get into hyperbole. I'd talk about how we'd gotten into a routine, things were unchanging. Months past, the seasons flew by, the colors on the leaves starting to turn, the weather taking a corner.

It felt like that, certainly. We had days where the status quo never once changed. Weeks blurred together, and it felt like epochs were passing before our very eyes.

Chasing Sadie's mysteries had long since become a dead end, and that left us with nothing but routine. We kept adding more and more women to the time loop, sometimes following Amber's advice and going after the difficult ones, other times we picked targets, almost at random. We spent a week going after one of Chrissy's lesbian friends. I'd spent a few days in pain when Amber pointed me towards a tattoo artist that only dated heavily tattooed men. For three days, I rolled groggily out the door and laid out for an entire team of artists to tattoo everything at once. The others came along, laughing and having fun while I grit my teeth, just trying to endure so many needles.

Amanda even tried a tattoo out herself, a small one on her wrist, just to see if she could ever get used to it.

Things with Amanda seemed to be going well. We'd beaten the jealousy pretty handily, now that she accepted the timeloop's reality, and as the days and weeks turned to months and years, we were inseparable. I won't pretend to speak for her, but I felt like I was falling in love with her, a tiny little bit more every single day.

Everyone seemed to find a routine. Emma and Amanda had caught up with each other, spending time together when I was on-the-job. She was making the most of the situation, and like any of us, just enjoying immortality while it lasted. Amber had taken a few cues from the hair stylists, and spent half her days living in luxury, stealing planes, robbing stores, breaking into mansions, whatever she wanted to do, whenever she felt like. Alley probably had it the easiest. Routine came naturally for her, and even if she worked the same shift every day, she got some satisfaction out of watching Sarah smile and thank her.

The only person who struggled was Ginger.

"How long is it supposed to take?" She asked. She was standing opposite from Chrissy, watching as the bartender stirred a martini.

"It's not getting any easier," she said, her voice sullen.

Chrissy sipped contemplatively. Ginger didn't give the woman's mind time to work.

"I know what you're gonna say," she protested, "Try to make plans, try to just hang out with him, be the friend you used to be. What if your husband, was back. He was here. But what if every day you had to watch him perfectly happy with someone else? And the best you can get is sometimes getting to hang out with him?"

Chrissy's thoughtful lips turned pursed, "You don't want my thoughts on that."

Another

tink

against the glass.

"If I had any way to see my husband right now- I'd take it. Anything's better than complete isolation."

Ginger didn't accept it, "You don't know what it feels like."

Chrissy pulled herself around the kitchen island, her slow pace brought her to Ginger's side. "No," she admitted, "I don't, but this is life. You take what you can get. Not everything's a fairy tale with a happy ending. Sure, Charlie isn't in love with you, but he still

does

love you, doesn't he?"

Ginger's head gave a nervous shake, "He's never tried to schedule anything, he doesn't reach out, doesn't even talk to me outside of our meetings-"

Chrissy twisted her mouth in pity.

"That's what happens with relationships," the bartender said, "When people get serious, the whole rest of their life gets put on the back burner, if you want to keep them around, it's up to you to make it happen. Ginger. What do you want?"

"I want him to love-"

Chrissy held her hand up, stopping the redhead before she got off track.

"At it's core, what do you want?"

Chrissy answered herself, "You want to spend time with him. So what can you do? Make it happen."

Chrissy took a moment to admire the girl. She was making progress, even if it came slowly for someone her age, when emotions were big and love everlasting. She'd worked the greasy knots from her hair, and she'd stopped sleeping and smoking the day away. She was looking closer to the mature woman she'd been the night the entire group gave her a makeover.

"Maybe not tonight, not even this week. Just, whenever you're comfortable, try to make plans, try to do something. Hey, Charlie, it's been a while, wanna hang out?"

Ginger wasn't ready that night, and truthfully, I'm glad. It was an off-night, and Amanda and I had done a pretty good job at keeping those days for us.

We'd gone all out a couple times, sports cars, private islands and mansions, tried living like Bonnie and Clyde. Truthfully, we were just as happy when we sat opposite each other, a quiet night together just enjoying each other's company.

"Getting up early, stealing a plane, getting a bank loan," Amanda laughed, "Shits a hassle."

She caught me in her arms, her nose scrunching the way it always did when she leaned forward for a kiss.

We spent the night without plans, perfectly content as she lay across the couch, her head nuzzled into my lap, her eyes fixated on mine.

"I think," she started, her nose already squinting in anticipation, "You don't even want this to end, do you?"

She spoke with a glimmer in her eye, and I couldn't help but smile.

"I mean you

know

, a whole buncha people are just gonna get revenge once they know it'll be permanent."

I shook my head, laughing along with her, "If you think I'm ever showing my face in Custer City again, you're crazy."

"Aww, come on," she teased, "Don't you wanna see what it looks like in Winter?"

We talked for a while, making fun of the time loop. The entire situation was so surreal, we couldn't help but laugh at it. And for most people, that might have been the end of the night. We'd talk about what was happening- the timeloop. We might talk about plans, who we were targeting next, but once topics ran out, conversations always ran dry. That was true for everyone I knew; all except Amanda. When I was with her, feeling her warmth, her soft hair draping over my legs, there was no such thing as running out of topics. Even when topics had run dry, she and I could effortlessly talk about nothing.

We wove through our past, dancing through inside jokes. We talked about the treehouse, how we'd want to restore it whenever this ended. Before the conversation drifted towards our jobs and what regular life might look like, it morphed and pulled away. We brought up moments that hung in our memories like chandeliers; the time her head got stuck in her father's stairwell; the time my pants ripped during exams.

Even when the conversation turned nonsensical, impossible to follow, it didn't matter. We were together, enjoying each other's company, basking in her comfort, and enjoying each other's words, regardless of what they were.

I think we started off talking about her job. She'd spent as much time in the emergency room as I'd spent in the time loop, and her list of stories ran a mile long. She brought up all the injuries she'd seen me have, all the creative ways Hannah and Mary had found to reset all my days over the months. I brought up how much easier dating will be once there's new movies; we laughed when she mentioned the new bbq place opening next month.

"Ok," Amanda laughed, "You can pretend it's all Hannah and Mary's fault all you want- but I

know

you're thinking your lucky stars all your injuries keep resetting. How many times did you skin your knee, or sprain your ankle doing stupid-"

"Yeah, but-"

"Or when you broke your

nose

," she teased.

My voice turned playfully defensive, "None of those were fatal."

"You're lucky they weren't!"

I laughed along with her, "It's surprisingly easy to die."

Her eyes turned devious, "You ever wanna get revenge? Go after the girls that hate you?"

"Just turn it into a full on war," I laughed.

She sat up, her fingers curling with laughter, "I'm just picturing you running to the gun store every single day, and like, seeing them there, and like, trying to call truce until you get your guns."

"Gun store?" I scoffed, "I'm breaking into a base. What are they gonna do? Kill me?"

Her head rolled back, "Just drop a nuke on her."

"Could you imagine how many enemies I'd suddenly have if I started playing with nukes?"

Her laughter turned to a slight cough, but her eyes widened with a question, "Hey, what happens if you fuck a dude?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"Like would he join the timeloop?"

"Can't say he would."

Amanda laughed knowingly, "Oh, you

know-

"

She didn't give me a chance to speak, "Who was he? Was it the same guy? Are we Eskimo sisters?"

I laughed along with her, "Sadie made the rules pretty clear. All adult women who wake up in Custer City."

"Still," she chuckled, her eyes still watery, "I mean, if you're in here long enough-"

I tried to bend it back her way, "Sounds like you've got some fantasies."

She scoffed, "Please, like you've never watched lesbian porn."

It was a fair point, so I grabbed another topic. "So, doctor huh?" I said, "You just said fuck-it and stuck with your Halloween costume huh?"

She snorted, her eyes rolling playfully, "And software engineering, so cool right?"

I snorted right back. "Easy money."

She gave herself an excited tap, the stupid joke bursting through her lips, "Hard money!"

She clutched her stomach with laughter, and I couldn't help but smile.

That's how it was with Amanda. When one topic ran dry, we launched right into the next. We kept each other laughing, and time together was the best part of our day.

I started watching her that night. More than just a relationship, more than a best friend. We couldn't help but smile and laugh when we were together. Even in a timeloop, with absolutely nothing new happening, we never got sick of each other. And that's when I realized I wanted to marry her.

Three. Two. One. Point.

The phone rang, but Hannah's eyes didn't react. She sat on the living room floor, her shirt riding up her stomach as she slunk against the couch. She waited for the ringing to stop, and the voices to start, the exact same message she'd heard a thousand times before.

Hey this is Kara, just wanted to ask where you were. I waited for you a little while, tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. And then when you weren't at cheer, I got a little worried. So just want to check in, make sure you're ok.

Hannah's mouth moved with the words. She did it absentmindedly, her eyes out of focus while her finger twirled the hair by her temple. She wrapped it, around and around and around.

So anyway, just give me a call when you get this, and let me know if you still need a ride tomorrow. Click.

Her hand moved right when the message ended. She yanked hard, plucking the hair away, flicking it into the growing pile on the carpet.

There'd be another call in two hours, one from her coach. It wasn't for her though, it was for her parents.

I wanted to talk to you about Hannah. She's missed a couple practices lately, and as captain, I want to make sure she's really making an effort-

She couldn't stop the weak little laugh. Her parents would never hear the message. They wouldn't be home tonight, or the next night, or the next, or the next, or the next-

She felt the vastness of her home. She sat, curling her leg towards her chest, wishing this were all a sick dream. Her fingers pawed back up her half-bald scalp, finding their comfortable perch in her hair, twisting and pulling, pulling and wrapping.

The entire world had lost it's appeal. Her parents had left behind meals to heat. She'd spent almost a year swapping between them before she swore she'd never touch them. The smell brought her close to vomiting. For a while she looked for creativity. She mixed and matched every ingredient in their pantry, and eventually, that too was exhausted. There was more food out in the world, not that she had any way to get it. Her parents did well, but didn't trust her with a card of her own. Before the timeloop, it was never a huge problem; convincing her dad to buy something was never

that

hard.

Before the timeloop.

Her fingers found her hair again, another clump falling to the carpet.

Even if I had money, she thought, I couldn't go and get anything. My car's still at the mechanic, and it's not like dad and his car will be home anytime soon.

Another maniacal laugh slipped out.

I can't even go back to the mansion. Even lounging around in that pool is too far away.

Her fingers started flexing faster. They tugged and wrapped, twisting hair into thick patches, small pools of blood falling as she pulled them out in clumps.

She sat there, completely isolated. She stared at the wall, her eyes unable to focus. The only semblance of reality was the occasional tug of pain on her scalp. The world itself was blurry, so distant. Her mouth moved every one in a while, sometimes on it's own, sometimes in time with noises around the house- the ticking of a grandfather clock, the settling foundation, the static of the lightbulbs.

Hannah never heard the second voice. She never heard the door creak open, nor the footsteps trailing across the hardwood floor. It wasn't until a hand touched her shoulder that she realized another person was there at all.

"Hannah?" The voice called again, genuine concern in the words, "Are you-" she trailed off, "What's going on?"

Even as Hannah turned to face the voice, the world was so blurry she couldn't pick Mary out from a lineup. Her brows were pinched together, worry as plain as the color of her skin.

Hannah was indifferent. The derealization was too strong, and her fingers wove until they found a patch of hair. Most of her scalp had turned bald and patchy. Her eyes were watering with dull pain, but the breakdown kept her from feeling the wetness.

"Hannah, this-" Mary muttered. She was still struggling for words, still trying to process the mutilation, the clumps of hair that made it look like she'd shaved a dog.

This is insane,

she wanted to say, fighting the part of her that understood. She'd taken revenge more times than she could count, and buried her sorrows under every substance known to man. Anything was easier than facing reality. The husband she woke up to every morning

hadn't

cheated. She knew that. He'd been reset, and yet, the thought lingered. If the temptation was strong enough, he would, and that was enough to change the entire way she looked at him.

Still

, Mary thought,

She'd never gotten that bad. Never a full on mental breakdown. Jesus. The girl's only eighteen.

Mary had bought a pistol on the way over, but the metal felt like a toy, and she slid it into her belt. "Hannah," she said, her words finally falling into place, "We can't keep doing this."

Hannah was still struggling to focus, but her fingers had froze. They were intertwined in her dark locks, but her eyes were trying to find Mary's.

"We're going insane," Mary said, a disbelieving chuckle on her lips, "We both are."

Hannah was aware of the tears now. She felt the burning in her scalp, and the sameness of the day went from monotonous to torturous. She felt the cage of the world closing in, the utter lack of guidance. She barely knew Mary, nothing but a partner in crime; but still, weeping felt good.

"Going after Charlie," Mary sighed, "As fun as it is- and as deserved as it may be- isn't going to accomplish anything. Neither is getting high, or drunk, or fucking everything that moves."

Mary paused. She'd been studying the senior, trying to find some sense of normalcy in her eyes.

"Hannah," she said softly, "I hate seeing you this way- and I get it. I hate this feeling. All of it. But Charlie's not the one who did this- not really. Sadie did."

The words were enough to snap Hannah sober. She blinked quickly, breaking the pooled tears and sending a fresh trail down Hannah's cheek.

"She's the one who did this," Mary said, "I don't know how. I don't know if it's a machine somewhere, or what- but if we want to stop this, we have to go after the right person."

Hannah nodded. She wiped her cheeks with a clumsy hand, convincing herself to agree, "Yeah."

"Come on," Mary said, her fingers outstretched, "Let's take matters into our own hands."

Across town I was nervous. Once I'd made the decision to propose, I felt butterflies I couldn't quite explain. It was different than any I'd felt before, not quite the type I got before an exam, or the nervousness before a shootout back when I was on varsity. It wasn't fear that drove the nerves, it was excitement, eager to spend the rest of my life with her, make it

official.

Sure there was some fear of rejection. I knew Amanda loved me, but our situation wasn't quite

normal

. Maybe she planned on moving on once everything ended. (Not very likely). Or maybe she couldn't picture getting married in a timeloop. Maybe the idea terrified her. Just the thought of forever felt a little different when there wasn't a tangible end in sight. (A little more likely). Worse yet, I didn't know what she felt about the

realworld.

What about when things went back to normal? How would we get along when she followed a doctor's hectic schedule? When she was stressed? How would people react if we were suddenly married when we'd essentially become strangers just a day ago? (And that's where the butterflies came from).

I knew I needed to talk through my thoughts, and the person I wanted to talk to more than anyone else in the world was Emma. It was more than just the fact that she was my only family member living the same hell, she knew Amanda almost as well as I did.

I paced across her porch, waiting for her to pickup. I turned the ring in my pocket, over and again, desperate to see Emma's face.

"No Amanda?" She asked, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

I laughed. The question was too perfect it caught me off guard.

"No," I said, my heart beating too fast, the words coming out like an avalanche, "But that's why I need to talk to you though.

"Is everything o-"

I let the ring answer for me, I held it out, showing Emma the ring she'd seen before.

I watched her eyes go wide, her mind piecing the puzzle together.

"She and I have been together 2 years, four months, and thirteen days," I said, my words too excited, "I realized she's the only one I want to be with, and I want to be with her every single day. It's so easy to talk to her, we can talk about nothing, and I know I want to ask her- I just need to know it's not completely crazy."

Emma's eyes were still wide, darting from the ring to my face and back.

"Of course you dummy," she laughed, "She's been in love with you as long as I can remember."

I felt myself exhale; a sigh of relief. A weight had been lifted, not the ultimate one, but a pebble was lifted off sisyphus' back. I wasn't frozen in place anymore, and followed Emma inside.

"But the other thing," I muttered, "Was the ring-"

Her eyes rolled, "I recognize it."

"Is it too tacky to give her Sadie's?"

She looked at it again, holding my hand out so she could see it from every angle.

I didn't like the suspense. My fluttering heartbeat forced me to keep talking, "I mean- she'll understand I can't buy a new ring every day right? But that one I have with me- I can take it to her, it's no big deal."

Emma's lips were pursed with concentration. "For now," she finally relented, "But once this is all over, she'll be expecting one of her own."

She still hadn't let my hand go. She was staring as intently as a jeweler, a million questions popping up inside her mind.