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she inserted a coin she found lying half-covered in sandy dust into the phone booth, took in a shaky breath, and picked up the receiver.
of course, her mind went blank. it’s not as if there was much pertinent information in there to begin with, but she had hoped that the motion of starting to telephone someone would jog something.
frustrated, the woman in the red dress screwed her eyes shut, receiver still in hand. the hot, dry air had long dried out her once supple skin, so she lapped at her lips out of her new habit. this was her only chance to do something, but what would she accomplish? she couldn’t even remember her own name.
heaving out a sigh, she tried to meditate like the people she saw on the tiny TV in the convenience store—before they unceremoniously kicked her to the curb after realizing she wouldn’t (more like couldn’t) buy anything. her red dress and gold and emerald necklace had afforded her some graces even when dusty, but she had been blacklisted from the store after a few instances of loitering.
frowning after recalling that awful experience, she worked to let her mind go completely blank, anchored to the droning dial tone of the pay phone, then her hand moved automatically to start punching in numbers. it seemed as though, in her previous life, she had called this number many times. she didn’t have her hopes up that anything would happen. after all, she may not even be in the same reality that she was used to.
ringing…
ringing…
ringing…
as the nearly full moon shined brightly down on her, she had a thought:
“Perhaps they’re asleep.”
perhaps they were. the phone rang endlessly. perhaps the number isn’t even valid. perhaps, she pondered, she had just pressed random numbers, thinking it was something more than a delusional woman’s last ditch effort before either killing herself or pathetically attempting to start anew.
just as she was about to hang up the receiver and give up for good, someone with a groggy voice picked up.
“Goth residence, this is Cassandra speaking.”
the woman’s mind started racing, her heart started to pound out of her chest, and she felt a cold, clammy sweat form over her body. apparently, she was simply breathing into the phone much too long for this Cassandra’s liking.
“Who is this? Not only have you called at 3 A.M., now you are obnoxiously breathing into the phone. I will give you 3 seconds to explain before I hang up on you.”
panicked, the woman started explaining, but it was more of a deranged ramble.
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late, um, I’m… I don’t know, this was the only number I knew to call. Um…”
unsure of what to say, the woman simply trailed off miserably. Cassandra stayed silent on the other line.
“What is your name? Who is this…?”
Cassandra’s voice had a strange tone to it, and the woman in red wasn’t sure why she sounded like that.
“I… I’m so sorry, I’m not sure of my name. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I don’t even know how I knew the number to call you, but it was muscle memory, it seems. I am very sorry to have called you so late, Cassandra… Goth, is it?”
there was only silence on the other line. it seemed like hours, but finally Cassandra spoke.
“I do not know who you are, but this is sick. How DARE you call our house, at 3 in the morning, doing that impression of our MISSING mother? You are disgusting. Do not EVER call here again, or I will report this number to the authorities. The impression was the best I have heard, I will award you that, but you scam artists will have to come up with a better story than memory loss. It has been 4 years, it is not as though you lot have not had the time to. I pray that you go missing just like she did, and that your family receives these horrid calls as well.”
the line disconnects.
stunned, the woman hangs the phone back onto the machine. she falls to the ground, hard. is this it? is she the missing woman? of course, she must be, that is the only thing that makes sense. how on earth did she get here? all of her memories are gone with the dust and sand of the desert.
how will she find her way back? how can she even begin? she doesn’t even have any simoleons to start. Cassandra had said it has been 4 years, but for her…it’s not even been 2 weeks.
she stares up at the sky, full of stars, obscured by the brightness of the moon. she doesn’t even know where to begin.
…
…
…
she lied there for an indiscriminate amount of time until she heard crunching footsteps. before she could sit up, a nuclear-blast level of bright light was shined into her face, and she put her arms up protectively to cover her eyes.
“Looks like another drunkard. What should we do with her?” a loud, strangely accented man’s voice bellows out, making the woman in red grimace.
“Of course, we’ll help her. The police would only arrest her. We aren’t evil.” a smooth, much quieter woman’s voice responded.
the light clicks off. the woman in red blinks a bit, then looks up at the two people beside her. a tall man and a shorter woman. the woman steps toward her and offers an outstretched hand.
“Hey there. My name is Circe, and this is my husband Loki. How about we help you out? It seems as though you’re in a bit of a problematic position here, huh? We can let you stay with us for a little bit; get you back on your feet. What do you say?”
Circe smiles.
the combination of her soothing voice, the smile, the outstretched hand, the offer of help, and the woman in the red’s desperation, is too much for her to refuse. she smiles back at her, and takes Circe’s hand.
“Ah, yes, that would be great. I promise I’m not drunk, just a bit confused. I’m probably severely dehydrated, too.”
Circe chuckles lightly and helps the woman up off the ground. Circe and her husband start to walk toward the road where a car is parked, and Circe gestures for the woman to follow her.
“Then we came at the perfect time. I’m actually a doctor. We can treat you more properly at our home. Excuse me, but I didn’t catch your name, Miss…?”
embarrassed at her indignity, the woman purses her lips. cringing at what is apparently a poor story, she tells the truth regardless.
“I am afraid that I do not know. I seem to have some… memory loss, as well.”
Circe just nods. perhaps that is common here…?
“Then, we’ll give you a name until you remember your own. How does σκασμένα χείλια sound?”
the woman shows clear confusion on her face, so Circe repeats herself.
“First name Skasména, last name Cheília. Is this acceptable for you?”
the woman contemplates this new name. it is very unfamiliar, but it’s better than not having a name, she supposed.
“It sounds pretty. What language is that, if you do not mind me asking?”
Circe was pleased to hear that this new person was at least somewhat more intelligent than the others, recognizing that it was another language entirely. the last few had unflattering names in Simlish and they still failed to recognize the insults she had given them as names. although, who knows what those aliens were doing to them.
in any way, it seems her assumption of intelligence in this one was correct, and she patted herself on the back for making a great first impression, as is her specialty. there was something different about this one, she could feel it.
“It’s Greek. My father taught me. It means, ‘Beautiful Woman in Red’. Not the most original, but it’ll suffice for now.”
Circe wasn’t the type to make jokes, but when she did, they were cruel; this being her most recent. σκασμένα χείλια means ‘chapped lips’, absolutely not ‘beautiful woman in red’.
she smiled maliciously as Loki helped Chapped Lips into their plum sedan.
finally, an interesting subject.