Fallout Dreams

ava 01

ava leaned her head against the diner window and watched sleet tint the world blue. wet pavement meant the roads were dangerous... but she ignored her anxiety and turned her attention to the pen in her hand and the poem trapped in her brain.

the only other booth in the gas station diner was occupied by an elderly gentleman in an over-starched suit and tie. it took a full minute before ava realized he was staring past her and not at her, but she still found herself locked in the accidental gaze of his sleepy eyes.

"his wife left him two months ago," the waitress said, filling ava's water and flaunting her arkansas drawl. "they ate brunch together every saturday after church." she lowered her voice to a whisper: "seventh-day adventists."

"he still comes every saturday?" ava asked.

"i want to slap him upside his adorable head and tell him to move on." the woman shrugged. "can i get you anything else? more soup? another roll?"

"a brain that works?" ava meant it as a joke, but the sarcasm came out harsher than she planned.

"can't help ya with that one." the waitress slipped the check beside the water and hobbled away. the word "thanks!" was scribbled on the receipt followed by a heart and a name: "molly."

ava bit the tip of her pen, rubbed her thumb across the third page of her brand new journal, and searched for inspiration in the man's sagging brow and colorless eyes. they weren't just grey... they literally had no color as if his wife sapped out the green, blue, or hazel on her way out the door.

ava wrote three words. then four. then ten.

she re-read the completed verse... it's garbage... then scribbled it out and began again.

"we're less than three miles away." mia slid into the seat across from ava and blocked her view of the old man. "can't you swallow a xanny, think happy thoughts, and drive five more minutes?"

ava scribbled another line. "i'm not on xanax."

mia sighed.

ten months ago, the sisters were truly identical. they shared the same hair (so brown it was nearly black), the same excellent grades, the same level of excitement for men and music and college applications. they touted every stereotype of identical twins; wearing the same clothes, finishing each other's sentences, and rarely fighting.

ten months ago, sentences began dangling unfinished between them. ava's hair turned completely black. boys became a static hiss in the background of her world while her sister still prattled with valley-girl delight about her approaching indoctrination into alpha mango delta pie... or whatever.

even in the diner their differences were obvious. ava could only listen to old country, but here was mia, bobbing her head and mouthing the words to another generic ditty about american flags, whisky, and "treatin' yer woman right" droning through the overhead speakers.

their eyes were changing too. on a normal day, they twinkled with that indefinable color that shifted depending on the color of their clothes. today, mia's burgundy U of A sweater pushed her irises toward the green end of the spectrum while ava's lack of team spirit held hers somewhere between yellow and brown.

"i got you a present," mia said and dropped a keychain beside crushed saltines. it was a red hog; the mascot of their new university.

ava slid her pen through the keyring and picked it up. "cute. thanks."

mia looked at the wet pavement and sighed. "i can feel it too, ya know."

"feel what?"

"your fear."