The Women of Custer City Ch. 08-10

Chapter 8

Ginger's day started the same as every other. She woke mid-cough, and blinked in the midday sun. A limp hand hung from the couch above her and she wriggled free. When she stood, she felt the same wave of nausea she felt every morning. She brought a hand to her stomach, and made her way to the bathroom. She sat softly, quickly peeing while she waited for the vomit to come.

She turned on the toilet, and pulled her knotted hair behind her head. Her sickness came and she tasted the same rancid waste she'd tasted every morning for nearly a decade.

The bathroom didn't have any toothpaste, it didn't have so much as mouthwash, so the best strategy she had was gurgling water. She held her hands under the sink and brought it to her lips. Everything tasted sour while she gargled. Then she stopped to look in the mirror.

The glass was harrowed and yellowed by decades of smoking college students. The corners of the mirror had rusted and the glass started to chip, but it was good enough to see her reflection. Ginger found the spots of vomit that landed in her hair and ran her fingers through the red locks, before absentmindedly running it under the dribbling water.

When she left the bathroom, she found herself in a zombie film. Three women were unconscious, sprawled out on the couch. Two or three men lay on the ground like a crime scene. As Ginger walked she had to straddle mounds of garbage and crushed party cups.

As sick as she was, and as miserable as she felt, the house's smells were worse. The old weed hit her like a wrecking ball, and the aroma was accented with rotting food, old alcohol, and the unwashed musk of the hippies that shared the house.

For a while, things weren't so bad. Every morning started the same, but Ginger had found a reason to carry on. For almost three years, she woke up, made her way to me, and we hung out. Sometimes it was just to help plan, other times it was just the two of us. To me, it never seemed like much, but to her it was the closest thing her life had to meaning.

Ginger knelt at the flying V. It lay under a mound of garbage and crushed cans, and when she grabbed the neck it was sticky with spilled soda. She brought it into the kitchen, as quietly as she could, and wiped down the body. She turned it in her arms, admiring her work, then went to tuning. She'd done it so many times, and it was always out of tune the exact same way. She knew the guitar well enough she could tune it in silence.

She gave her hands one last shake, and grabbed the guitar by the neck. She started out towards her roommates car, and began making the trip towards me. She merged into the same traffic she'd driven a thousand times before. Her day hadn't even begun to deviate from any other until she knocked on my door and Amanda answered.

"Oh, hey," Ginger said nervously. She held up the guitar, almost to show off she wasn't a threat, "I just came by to, you know, hang out."

"Charlie's not here," Amanda said. She started to shut the door, but Ginger pressed forward.

"I don't really have anything to do," Ginger said, "Can I just hang out here?"

The door creeped open again and Amanda's tired face appeared, "What's with the guitar?"

"It keeps me sane," Ginger said, "Learning something, focusing on improving, it reminds me life's still moving forward. I'm actually making progress."

Amanda stepped back from the door, just enough to let Ginger in.

"That's honestly not a bad idea," she said, "I think I need to find something like that."

The two women made their way to the couch, and Ginger started to strum. Amanda watched her for a moment, her head bobbing along with the beat.

"So you and Charlie," Amanda pressed, "You were pretty close?"

Ginger never looked away from the fretboard. Even as she responded she didn't stop strumming, "I consider him my best friend."

Ginger kept her head down, but Amanda's eyes were fixed. She was studying Ginger. She listened to the soft strumming for a moment, then pressed closer, her eyes wide. "You don't have any girlfriends or anything?"

Ginger missed her note. She grimaced, readjusted her wrist, then started strumming again. "Everything's complicated," she muttered, "The friends I had are a decade younger than me now, and my best friend, still sleeps with my ex boyfriend, every single day."

The strumming stopped. "So yeah," Ginger sighed, "It was nice to have Charlie for a little bit. He was in the same situation, and we could have real talks."

Ginger gave Amanda a nervous glance, almost feeling out her response. She turned back sheepishly and started plucking again. "Charlie's a good guy," she said, half focused, "He's in a shitty situation, but he's trying his best, and he's always there for us."

"I know," Amanda said. She didn't mean it, but her voice fell in tune with Ginger's soft strumming.

"It sucks that everything's changing, but I know you two have history, and I know you really make him happy."

Ginger's fingers froze mid-chord, and she turned to find Amanda's eyes. All nervousness had left when she spoke, "Just don't hurt him, ok?"

Chapter 9

Trying to date a lifelong friend is a weird place to be. All the normal milestones are gone. We didn't have to get to know each other or figure out how to be comfortable in each other's presence. Amanda and I were already friends, and to us, that just felt weird.

Amanda thought the best way forward was to keep things exactly the same. I had us meet at the treehouse, and to her, that meant it was her turn to reach into our past and hang out the way we used to.

The first time I'd ever seen an R-rated movie was in her basement. We sat side-by-side and with every single jump scare I felt her arms wrap around me and squeeze me for comfort. She told me the whole story later, how she bought it with cash she'd found, and how she kept the dvd under her bed, terrified her parents would find her contraband.

We probably watched that stupid horror movie a half dozen times. We knew where every jump was. I knew to reach out and pre-emptively comfort her before the scene where a guy got his head chopped off and we could see the fake looking blood spurt from his neck.

It's perfect, Amanda thought, It's a perfect way to spend the night together. A fantastic excuse to curl up on the couch, holding each other and laughing just like old times.

She bolted up in bed and ran straight for the car. She didn't bother brushing her teeth, or fixing her hair. She didn't even change from the sweat soaked scrubs. It was a half hour drive to her parents, and she knew it'd be at least an hour scouring the house, trying to find that old movie.

By the time she made it to my place, the movie tucked behind her back, she was covered in dust and cobwebs. Still, she couldn't keep herself from smiling with excitement.

She gave the door a gentle knock and I let her in.

"Amanda," I said with a soft smile.

She returned a grin, but dropped when she saw my kitchen table. Amber was leaning back in her chair, saying something to Ginger, while Alley and Chrissy bent over the table, studying the plan.

"We've got a tight window," I said, already rushing back towards the table.

She shifted the dvd case, careful to keep it out of sight.

"Yeah, it's just," she tried, her voice falling soft.

I wasn't even looking at her. I pulled a chair back and started running my hand down the map on the table.

"Charlie," she said, taking slow, careful steps towards me, "Can we hang out tonight?"

I barely heard her words, I was so locked into the plan.

"So get this," I said. I turned a pair of polaroids towards her, "We're going after twins."

Chrissy took over, "They do everything together," she said, "Not just today, they're literally the type of twins that think they're one person. They try to dress together, finish each other's sentences, it's freaky."

"The point is," Alley continued, "They're together all day. It's impossible to get them alone, so it has to be a package deal."

"The good news though," Amber said as she twisted a strand of hair in her fingers, "Is they've definitely double teamed a single guy before. It's possible."

It was my turn to talk, "But we have to be quick. They head out on a yacht today at like noon, and they're gone the rest of the day."

I turned and nodded around the table, "Everyone clear on the plan?"

A murmur rose around the kitchen, but the women were in agreement.

"Alright then," I said, "Let's do this."

I started to stand, but Amanda caught my wrist. "Charlie," she said feebly, "Be back as soon as you can, ok?"

My mind was still all over the place. I blinked, having barely heard her, then started for the door.

The other women were slower to leave; Alley being the final straggler. Amanda was so focused on distraughtly staring at the dvd case, she didn't notice Alley's holster was empty.

The door slammed shut and Amanda was alone in the quiet house. She paced towards the table, and glanced at the plan. She held the polaroid and saw a pair of identical blondes, barely twenty-five, then turned to throw the pictures away.

I don't need this, she thought, I don't need to think about what Charlie's doing, or who he's doing it with.

She glanced back at the faded DVD cover. Her wistful glance became a frown as she realized just how old it was. It was from an entirely different life. The characters looked cheesy, the blood and effects fake. She tried to imagine screaming at the special effects the way she used to and couldn't see herself doing it.

She went back to the table and cleared the last of the maps and plans, then glanced over to the kitchen.

I can still get ready, she thought, I can make a nice meal, clear my mind, and make sure everything's as nice as possible when Charlie gets back.

And so Amanda went to work. She tried to recreate the foods we used to eat, the cinnamon rolls her mom made from scratch, the steaks my dad made out on the grill while the two of us sat together in the basement. She tried to create all out memories at once, and she didn't stop cooking until the sun had long set and her scrubs were spattered with grease and spices. She looked over her work, then glanced down.

I can probably shower, she thought, get into something a little cleaner.

She made her way across the house, and once she finished drying the water from her thighs, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and draped one of my sweaters, directly over her naked torso. She covered the food in foil, then took an exhausted seat on the couch, waiting for me.

She sat through one movie, then two. Her glances towards the door became more and more frequent, then she looked back towards the dvd.

Maybe, she thought, but she stopped herself, No. That's for Charlie and I. Together.

Amanda waited until her stomach started to growl and the house fell pitch black. It was well past midnight, and finally she couldn't keep her heavy eyes open any longer. She fell asleep.

When I woke the next morning Alley was already waiting at my porch. I was groggy when I let her in, and she wove past me towards the kitchen.

"No luck?" she asked, while I gave a gentle headshake.

"Well here," she said, her pistol outstretched, "Just in case you need to reset again."

At that point I still hadn't realized what I'd done. I'd been so scatterbrained the day before, so focused on the twins, I'd barely heard Amanda, and at that point in time, hadn't realized that she prepared a date night. I didn't realize anything was wrong when Chrissy came over, or Amber. As we lay out the plan on the table, I thought everything was just falling into the old routine. Nothing clicked until I heard Amanda pounding at the door.

I made my way to the porch with tired footsteps and saw the anger and sadness in her eyes. "Where were you?" she asked.

I was still too groggy to process.

"I waited up all night," she said.

She looked past me and saw the council already formed.

"Everyone out," she said. Her voice was quiet at first, shaky, but when she repeated herself, her voice became a shrill yell, "OUT!"

The women shuffled past us, and Amanda kept her eyes locked on mine.

"Amanda," I said with a yawn, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"You said you'd be back," she snapped.

"So?" I asked, "Things went wrong, I reset, what's the problem?"

That's when her eyes became black holes. She took a fierce step towards me.

"Do you even realize how far Chrissy has to drive?" I snapped back, "You're wasting everyone's time just because you're throwing a tan-"

Amanda exploded, "YOU FUCKING RESET?"

"Yeah," I said, "I always do."

"And you wanna talk about wasting people's time?" Amanda whimpered.

She took a step back to regather herself.

I chased after her, "What do you want from me?"

She looked back with eyes full of tears, "I want you to be the Charlie I remember! I want you to actually give a shit! Make an effort!"

"Look," I said, "This is the reality right now. I don't have a choice. I have to go be with-"

"What about me?" Amanda shrieked, "I'm trying, and I've been trying hard-"

"What about you?"

"I don't want to feel like just another number!" she said, "I feel like you don't even give a shit if you see me."

I let my voice fall calm and quiet, "Amanda," I said, "You've been my best friend my entire life. You know I just have obligations right now."

"Don't you get how that makes me feel?" Amanda asked. Her voice was thick with phlegm and her eyes had reddened, "Every single day. I think about who you're out there fucking, and then when you're done, guess what, you don't even bother coming home."

"You're right," I admitted, "I should have come home, especially because you asked. For the rest of it, though, I don't have a choice. You know that."

"But don't you get how that feels? What if I was out there fucking everything that moved, wouldn't that feel like-"

"So do it," I said, "If you're feeling lonely and left out, sleep with someone."

"Charlie," she said, that same eerie calm washing through her voice, "I know I haven't been stuck in this loop very long, but I don't have anyone. Besides you. For you we haven't seen each other in decades, but I still see my best friend, and I'm lonely and jealous all day, and when I look at you, when I can look at you, it just fucking hurts."

I let myself take a handful of steps towards her, and wrapped my hand around the back of her salty hair.

"The last thing I ever want to do," I said, "Is to hurt you. That entire time, I never stopped thinking about you. I wish things were better, I wish it was easier for us to just be together."

Her arms were still shaking, but they tightened around my back.

"I love you Amanda."

Her chin twisted against my shoulder, and she opened her mouth to speak again.

"I made a promise," she said, "That I wouldn't hurt you. But you have to step it up too, because right now Charlie, you're hurting me."

I let her back away, then reached for the gun. I turned and held it out by the handle, a show of good faith. "No more resets," I promise, "I'll do better."

Amanda forced a weak smile, then took a step closer to me. "Thank you."

"And I know I'm tired at the end of the day," I said, "But I'll try harder to be there for you. I swear."

Amanda's trembling had started to subside, and the two of us fell together on the couch. I felt her hand begin to stroke my chest, and I let my cheek fall to her hair.

"I'm scared of the answer," she started. She tried to keep the vibrato from her voice, but her emotions were still winning, "But are any of my friends in the loop? If I had just one other person, maybe the days wouldn't be so lonely."

"No," I admitted, "I kept my distance from you, your whole life. I was terrified to ever make a move."

Amanda let out a sigh that was somewhere between disappointment and relief that she didn't have to imagine me fucking her friends.

"If you want, I could try-"

"No," she said, with a small wave of her hand, "It's hard enough with strangers. Hearing about you with one of my friends might kill me."

I ran my fingers through her hair again, studying her while she gently breathed. She shimmied her back and let herself get comfortable against my form, while I glanced at the clock.

"Well," I sighed, "We have all today. I missed my window."

She gave the mantel a curious glance, and I helped her from the couch.

"Come on," I said, "We should let the others go home."

The two of us made our way towards the door and found the other four still circled at the porch. Amanda followed me, trying her best to shield her red eyes, and stepped into the morning sun, wondering how much the others had heard.

"We'll try again tomorrow," I promised.

The group started to dissipate and I started back inside. The only two that remained were Amanda and Ginger.

"We heard a lot of that," Ginger said softly, "We didn't mean to eavesdrop, but we didn't know if we were supposed to go."

"It's fine," Amanda said. She tried to give a happy smile to shoo Ginger away, but the redhead took a step closer.

Maybe Ginger had puked one two many times. Maybe she'd woken up in the rancid apartment with pain in her abdomen too many days in a row, or maybe she just saw an opportunity, saw how vulnerable Amanda was, and she just couldn't help herself.

"We all knew a fight was coming," she said slyly. She thought for a moment, savoring the words on the tip of her tongue, "Especially with what Chrissy said. She told us how Charlie was fucking more than he had to, sleeping with the same girl more than once."

Amanda looked back with daggers in her eyes. She made sure the door was locked, then stormed towards Ginger.

"What did you just say?" Amanda asked. She barely finished the sentence before her tears had loosened and started to fall.

"Ginger," Amanda said, her voice steely, "Tell. Me. Everything."

Chapter 10

Ginger spoke slowly and carefully, repeating what Chrissy had said about my time with Hannah as perfectly as she could.

"And you're certain?"

"Yeah," Ginger repeated, "They had sex in the room, then walked around naked, ate dinner, then fucked in the pool."

"Unbelievable," Amanda snapped.

"Do you know what he said to me?" she asked, "He told me I should just go fuck other men, just to stop being so jealous all the time."

The two were sitting alone in the mall, but Amanda's voice had gotten loud enough for Ginger to look around, just to see everyone staring at them.

"I mean Jesus Christ," Amanda ranted, "It's like he's been in here so long he doesn't even remember empathy, or basic emotions, or, or, or, anything."

"It's hard being in here," Ginger agreed.

"But he's not even trying," Amanda said, "I thought things had gone back to normal, I thought we'd taken a step forward, but then-"

"Things are different in here Amanda," Ginger sighed, "Maybe it's not as bad as it seems."

"It's cheating," Amanda barked, "He had to once, but twice is cheating."

"But think about it," Ginger tried, "He told you to hook up. Sex isn't the same in here. There's no consequences, no diseases. It's just fun. Maybe a hookup would help you understand."

Amanda relented, "Where would I even start?"

Ginger shrugged.

"The closest thing I've ever had to a hookup was Charlie in that treehouse, but that's because I knew him all my life. I knew-" Amanda paused, "I thought I could trust him."

Ginger sat forward excitedly. She could feel the strings of fate, driving a wedge between Amanda and me, pulling Amanda out of my life, "You're seriously considering it?"

"I'm so fucking lonely. All day, I'm just in my head, stressing out, over and over."