Fallout Dreams

ava 03

the girls dragged the new couch through shafts of midmorning sun. ava rammed her butt against the arm until the sofa was centered on the fireplace while mia used a steak knife to free the love seat from its cellophane wrapper.

by noon the set was complete: white couch, white chair, white love seat, and a coffee table at the center.

the whole setup was exactly her sister's style; the white-on-white, arkansas-chic, down-home, raise-your-hands, shameless-family-values sophistication popularized by baptist wives and tv shows about country cookin'.

these living rooms were usually fake. but this house was actually old. behind the brick and hardwood floors was a dark underbelly of rusty pipes, lead paint, and trapped rodents bestowing the home a history that the suburban lookalikes couldn't recreate with all the faux-finishes and pallet wood in the south.

quit being so cynical, ava told herself, then tried to see the room from a kinder perspective. the white looks striking against the dark wood floor, she thought, then smiled.

"check it out!" mia sunk into the giant ball of cellophane and whipped out her phone with its pink rhinestone case. "we won't have wifi 'til tuesday, but we can still connect to the speakers." with a swipe of her finger, the living room swayed with the monotonous twang of shitty country.

"you know," ava said, "if you play a country song backwards, the guy gets his wife, trailer, and dog back."

mia stuck out her tongue.

"but seriously... either play something less depressing or something more depressing."

"this is just the right amount of depressing." mia smiled, then pushed herself from the mess of cellophane. "help me grab the tv from—"

the music stopped.

"god, ave," mia whined, "it's not that bad!"

"i didn't touch it!"

mia rolled her eyes and swiped her phone. the music picked up where it left off. she bit her lower lip, cranked up the volume, and danced toward the garage.

again, the music stopped.

"you're messing with me!"

ava held up her hands. "i don't even have my phone."

mia played it again.

again, it stopped.

"stupid technology. you try."

ava ran to her room, grabbed her phone, opened the bluetooth settings, paired it with the speakers, and played beethoven's sonata no. 14.

"this is creepy," mia said.

"shh..."

the sisters waited—hands on their hips and eyes on the ground—listening for a break in ludwig's hyper-pensive chords and minor scalings.

after thirty seconds, ava shrugged. "i guess the speakers like beethoven."

"at least play something we both like."

"'cause you'd do the same for me?"

mia rolled her eyes and skipped out the front door.

ava scanned her playlist for classic rock. suddenly, her ringtone blasted through the speakers with a call from jeff.

she quickly turned it off.

ten seconds later, another beep filled the house, telling her—and any creature in the home's vicinity—that she had a voicemail.