Note -- I’ve been feeling a bit of writer’s block on this, so here’s another short chapter in the hopes that putting up what I’ve got will motivate me to write more:
Part IVb.
“You all right? I thought you said you liked Hallowe’en.” While Sally took out her frustration on the bulletin board, Nadia had entered the common room with a cardboard box of student-y groceries (mostly ramen, though there was a carton each of milk and orange juice too). The Poli-Sci picked up a pad of sticky notes from the counter and began writing down her name and labelling each item before placing it in the cupboard or fridge, as Sally explained the fly named Gordon in this particular jar of ointment.
“I know,” she finished, “I have the right to wear what I want without being molested -- but I’ve seen this guy in class -- he’s creepy enough to make me uncomfortable and smart enough not to do anything I can actually lodge a complaint about. So I have three realistic options: one, skip the party altogether; two, go to the party and be on my guard the whole time; or three -- wear something that hides me from him. I’m not thinking burqua so much as a Darth Vader costume --” she paused. “Or a weaponized robot. Do you still need that cardboard box?” When Nadia shook her head, Sally picked up the empty box and gaged its width against the breadth of her shoulders. “I’ll need to collect some more,” (having, as a child, gone trick-or-treating dressed as a tube of toothpaste, Sally had sworn never again to design herself a costume with a stiff one-piece body), “but I’m going home this weekend, and unless my parents have suddenly decided to clean out the garage, there should be plenty.”
“Problem solved, then?” Nadia asked. “My work here is done.”
“Do you have a costume?”
“I was thinking of Sailor Mercury, but now I’m worrying that’ll just end with me spending the whole night telling people that I’m not Nicki Minaj.”
“Do you already have the uniform? You might have to be Sailor Moon -- at least there’s no mistaking that hairdo.”
“Yeah, but Sailor Mercury was always my favourite.” Sally frowned:
“Would it be cheesy to carry around a thermometer, to make it obvious?” Nadia laughed.
“That…. could work. I think my mom’s got one. When do you head home for Thanksgiving, by the way?”
“Friday, as soon as I get back from my morning class.”
Sally had always liked taking trips, even on low-glamour means of transportation like the greyhound bus. It got her away from her life, even if it was only for a few hours.
Donald had been primarily rehearsing the “Pyramis and Thisbe” bits the night before, and afterwards when everyone went out to the pub he’d seemed to avoid her, taking a seat at the other end of the table and talking with the director. When she’d bid him good night and a happy Thanksgiving weekend, he’d returned her hug awkwardly.
“Eat many things,” she’d added, and then blushed, feeling ridiculous.
Well. She’d worry about Donald later, and she’d bury her worries about Gordon in work on her Hallowee’n costume. In truth she really was looking forward to a couple of days of home and family.
With her small weekend bag packed, she left the campus and caught a city bus to the terminal where she walked around the corner, bought a sandwich and a coffee from the Tim Horton’s, and returned to wait for her ride, shivering a little in the cold air. She’d just thrown the cup and wrapper in a litter bin when the big bus pulled into the bay. The driver descended and opened the luggage hatch, but she didn’t have anything large with her, so she showed him her ticket and he waved her towards the holepunch machine by his seat.
Inside the bus, the grey upholstery was oddly soothing. Sally took a window seat near the back and closed her eyes.