She drops her magazine. I’m not a fan of the look she’s giving me, though. It’s a mixof pity and fear. Not a combination I like to see. “No, Mappy. Is there a reason you’re asking?”
Taking a seat on a chair near her, I blow out a breath. “There are whole days I can’t remember. And sometimes I wake up places and don’t know how I got there.”
“How long has this been happening?”
“My whole life, I think. Or, as long as I can remember.” Truth is, I can’t remember my life before a few years ago. I assume I had a normal childhood. I just can’t remember it. At all. And the more I try, the more my head hurts.
She nods, then pats my hand. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I doubt there’s muchyoucan do about it.”
Shrugging, I stand and head back outside. I'm not feeling as passionate about my map duties as I usually am. Maybe I’m getting sick? That doesn’t explain my urge to check out some of our more popular tourist attractions to see if a certain tourist is hanging out there. Unless that’s also some sort ofsymptom of disease? I could visit Rebecca, she’s a nurse, after all, just to be sure I’m okay. I think she worked in a hospital before taking over at the school.
I wait outside the school until the kids are dismissed for lunch. Nothing weird about a giant map standing on school grounds during the day by himself. Once I make it into the office, I’m able to locate Rebecca. There’s a kid sleeping on a little bed, and I feel guilty about intruding, but she waves me in.
“What’s up, Mappy?”
“I think I might be sick.” She nods, cleaning off a thermometer with a cleansing wipe before sliding it across my forehead. As she’s double-checking her reference sheet for my normal temperature range, I continue, “I can’t seem to focus. I’m really distracted.”
“That doesn’t seem like a sickness.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Thanks anyway, Rebecca.” I turn to leave, but then add, “There’s also these blackout periods?” If I’m sick, she can fix me. AlthoughMabel said there was nothing I could do, so maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“Blackout periods?”
“Never mind, I don’t think those are related.” I try to leave, but she grabs my arm. It’s nothing like when Miguel was touching me. Should I tell her about that? That’s new.
“Mappy, what blackout periods?”
“There are some times I can’t remember. It’s not that big of a deal, except…” I trail off.
“They sound like a big deal, Mappy.”
“No, I’ve had them my whole life. I think?” Have I, though? “I, uh, get confused sometimes, but yesterday, I was so excited, but then it happened, and Miguel… It doesn’t matter.” The more I try to explain, the more my head hurts. I can barely think anymore, and I just know I need to get out of there now.
“You’re not making much sense.”
“Thanks for your help. I’ll see you around.” I race out of the office, even as she calls my name. My head hurts as I think about the missing times. It’s like running into a brickwall over and over again, which I’ve done, so I know. Shaking my head, I push open the doors to the school and walk outside.
Chapter six
Kyle's Bar
Miguel
Ireally wish Mabel would’ve warned me there was a fucking frog orgy happening in The Wonder Hole. I had heard the frogs in town. How can you not? But it’s completely different being there as it happens. Loudly. So fucking loudly. I don’t understand the acoustics of that place, but it’s like surround sound at max volume no matter where you go. It’s inescapable. I was so ready to leave when the bus finally rolled up.
Turns out Bigfoot does live here. Or at least a Bigfoot look-alike does. Because he was on my bus. Hard not to stare, but I did my best.
When I hop off at the Visitors’ Bureau, I’m disappointed that a certain map isn’t present, but I guess even a map has to end his workday at some point. Unsure what to do with myself now, I walk over to the bar, figuring I can at least grab a beer before heading to my rental for the evening. After all, the sun is still out, and I am not that pathetic.
I suddenly get the feeling someone’s watching me. Turning slowly, not-so-secretly hoping Mappy has returned, my stomach sinks when there’s no one around. At least that’s what I think at first. A small man in a trench coat and a hat is peering at me from behind a dumpster in the same alley I found Mappy. He’s in the shadows, so it’s hard to make out his features exactly, but his face is wide, wider than any person I have ever seen. It scrunches in when he catches me staring at him, and he moves behind thedumpster. Weird.
A few drinks later, I stumble out of Kyle’s. Everyone in the bar was so welcoming. When a couple of players from the local baseball team stopped by, the whole bar broke out into cheers, yelling “Balls!” at the top of their lungs. The energy was so infectious, I found myself chanting and joining them for a drink. Or two. Maybe more. It seems like such a great place to live. I could see myself settling down here with a certain bat-map-man.Nope. Not going down that road. That’s the alcohol talking.
Looking up and down the street, I try to find the signs to make my way home. It’s not too complicated, but I am not at my best and could really use some assistance. I know I head down the street, away from the Visitors’ Bureau for a couple of blocks, and then it’s just a couple of turns after that. The only problem is that as I continue walking, there are no signs. None. The houses look familiar,but also all kind of similar, so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to turn at this block or the next. Where are the fucking street signs? They were here when I left this morning.
Well, this isn’t going to work. I’ll never find my way back like this. Turning around, I head back to Kyle’s, figuring someone from town might be able to guide me home. There’s really only one person I want to take back to my place tonight, though, and he’s nowhere to be found.
Luckily, a nice dog-cat-monkey-man is on his way out and offers to drive me home. I honestly can’t figure out what he is, but he seems nice enough, even if he isn’t wearing pants. Is it rude to ask someone what they are here? Does everyone just know? Whatever he is, he’s attractive. Super muscular with a backwards baseball hat. If I weren’t so distracted by my bat-map, I’d be interested in him with his accent and lip ring, especially as he cracks jokes and flirts on the drive. Despite my inability to give more than just the vaguest descriptionof where I’m staying, he’s able to drop me off without a problem. Says his buddy hooked him up with some state-of-the-art GPS thing.
