As she got older, however, Story could recognize the importance of consistency. She could see that having a whacked out sleeping schedule from time zone hops was starting to take its toll, to some degree. This was partly what she blamed the previous week's weirdness on. Lots of fatigue. Her body and mind and emotions were taking a hit from all the traveling, it was the only thing that made sense. And the other thing she blamed were the pain meds she could have sworn she kept on popping throughout the week as she dealt with a nasty migraine. Maybe she overdosed on Ibuprofen? Maybe that's why she was having such a hard time at recollecting everything clearly? Was that even a thing?
Whatever the case may be, ever since Sunday morning had rolled around and she'd woken up feeling like she was a hungover university student again, she was just trying to stay afloat without having some stupid melt down. Her confusion, her guilt, her worry, her anger - all of these negative emotions were wanting to surface. But she was trying to stuff them down. She was so badly wanting to ignore them, bottle them up out of fear and convenience's sake.
Except Astoria Bellingham had never been an emotional bottle cap. Her whole life she'd been taught to feel; to access the freedom to express and explore her feelings. Her mother, God bless her, was a child of the 70s - free spirited, one with nature, and all about expression, peace, and love. That was a big reason why Story needed open, honest communication. She remembered with fondness (and some annoyance) that her mother used to sit her and her sister Cammy down for 'trust circles' after every fight the siblings had - times when they would be asked to share with one another how they felt, what angered them or hurt their feelings, so that they could bring harmony and reconciliation. It seemed tedious, but honesty and expression were important to her. In every avenue and relationship in her life.
So, when Story didn't have the time or the know-how in where to even begin in being honest with herself, let alone anyone else, it tended to cause even more of an internal disruption. She felt antsy. She felt unsettled. And she felt like all she wanted to do was curl up in bed to sleep the rest of the weekend away. Thankfully, she wasn't going to be allowed to do that with a camping trip in the works. With that in mind, she had no other choice but to try to confront everything that night...
Story was positively beat by the time she got home. She didn't know what time it was and she didn't really care. All she knew was that her bed was calling her... but the only problem was that her bed was what got her in this whole mess in the first place. Now every time she laid there, she would think about those blue eyes, that smile, and the way he'd made her feel that night. A way that she hadn't felt in a very long time - full of need, there was no other way to describe it. That in and of itself wasn't a horrible thing, but the issues arose in the confusion. She still couldn't understand what motivated either of them to fall into such a trap of temptation. And she worried that it was the type of mistake that would never allow for full reconciliation.
But all of that was being pushed aside now. She needed to sleep. She'd even curl up on the futon in the living room that night, just so she wouldn't have to have flashbacks assaulting her mind's eye by sleeping in the bed where everything happened. God, she hoped it wouldn't be tainted for much longer. She needed things to be resolved, but she knew it wasn't a quick fix.
She unlocked her front door, dragging in her small suitcase behind her just as a yawn escaped from her mouth. She left the luggage in the hallway after locking up, too lazy and tired to put her things away. Story kicked off her shoes and started to shed her stewardess uniform as she headed up the stairs to the living room - till she was in nothing but her under shirt and panties. She grabbed for the blanket hanging over the futon only after she'd sunk into the curve of the plushy cushion. She exhaled deeply, trying to get comfortable by rolling back and forth. Her eye lids were blinking heavily. All she wanted was to doze, to have a silent sleep with no dreams at all, but despite her body's insistence for slumber, her brain still wouldn't turn off as it played reel after reel of her life's current events.
She whimpered to herself, just about to pull her blanket all the way over her head when her bleary eyes finally noticed something glinting in the mixed light of the waning full moon and the street lamps that filtered through the windows. Story blinked, rubbing at her eyes to see if she could make out the shape of what rested in the shadows, on a chair across from her. She'd cleaned up before leaving for England, so she knew whatever it was hadn't been left by her. Had her dad been in town and not told her? Occasionally he would surprise her with gifts whenever he was near Boston, sneaking them in with the key to the house that he had bought and paid for and allowed her to live in with monthly rent.
After a quick debate about leaving it till she woke up, Story groaned before sitting up to turn on the light. She couldn't wait. She wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't look at what her dad had left her. She loved surprises! She turned toward the object after switching on the overhead light, the smile of anticipation dwindling on her lips as sheer confusion took over.
"What the ffffff--" she started to say, blinking again because she was sure that what she was looking at was a figment of her imagination. Or a really bad joke. She decided it was the latter, and laughter was soon to follow her initial confusion. "Who the hell would send me this?" She shuffled over to pick it up.
"It's a little early for Halloween..." She continued to talk to herself. Story was now looking down, holding up to her body something that looked like a really well made purple bikini - complete with boots, weird crotch jewelry, and - dear God, were those arm guards?? She held the bikini thing out to get a better examination of it, trying to actually figure out how she would even manage to put it on, let alone how she would cover everything up and keep her boobs from falling out. "Someone has a very strange fantasy that they want me to help fulfill..."
In a flash, she was reminded of a recent conversation she had with a friend. Something about stalkers and odd gifts that they might send her. She'd been joking when she'd said she wouldn't mind a stalker - as long as they didn't physically assault her or send her weird gifts of dead things. Otherwise, why not? The attention and adoration didn't sound like a horrible thing. She gasped, dropping the bikini in favor of clamping a hand across her mouth. No way. No freakin' way. She wasn't afraid or creeped out only because she was still so sure this was an inside joke gone way way too far, but the creep factor was a fine line. Especially because she had no idea how he would have even managed to get the damn costume inside her house. Whoa, now that was creepy. Still, she started laughing again, kicking lightly at what looked to be thigh high purple boots - those she might actually find a way to wear, they looked like fun - but overall she could not believe that someone would go this far for a bloody joke.
After a few more bouts of laughter, and a shake of her head, all she could do was ball up the bikini and throw it back on the chair. She might try it on come daylight, once she was rested and feeling more up to potentially fulfilling whatever kinky fantasy was going on, but for now sleep was still singing her name sweetly, seducing her back to the futon.
As lights were turned off and she curled back under her blanket, Story shut her eyes to finally doze off to sleep. And with her, the mystery of the incredibly immodest purple bikini that she would never actually wear would be put to bed, too.
...till morning when she would find out she had no actual clue who sent it.
Caught in the middle of the dawn and the sunrise, I can't stop focusing on all our loose ties. Just when I think we gain a little ground, I'm tripping over confusion and you're nowhere to be found.