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A ringtone broke the quiet of the dark bedroom, leading to a groan of exhaustion. “Hello?” Barb groaned tiredly, pressing the phone to her ear. It was silent, and she frowned with impatience. She was an internationally-recognized rock star. She didn’t deal with prank calls- especially after finishing a concert only hours before. “Hel-lo?”
“Hi, Barb?” A voice said, quiet and nervous. The rock star paused as she placed the voice, even in her sleep-addled state. “It’s uh- we played a show together a while ago, and I just don’t know who else to call-”
“Whoah, Poppy?!” Barb said, suddenly awake. She sat up, switching her light on. “Dude, what happened?! You just disappeared! I know we weren’t that close, but I’ve been worried-!”
“I-” A choked sob echoed over the line and the rock star froze in terror. “Barb, I think I need help.”
—
Years ago…
—
Poppy smiled proudly to herself, looking out over her home. Her family was all gathered, and their friends were there as well, all running and having fun. It was her dream- everyone she loved, gathering in a place she loved, a dedication to all the hard work she’d done.
Although she was famous enough to hire a gardener, she had painstakingly cultivated her garden herself to be beautiful and helpful for local pollinators. It grew edible plants that both she and the critters who lived nearby could benefit from.
Her house had been built from her own designs, and was gorgeous. It was bright and happy, not bound by any Homeowner’s Association or resale value. It was her dream home, and it was full of all of her favorite people.
Her husband held his arm around her shoulders, smiling calmly at the scene. “It’s lovely, Poppy,” he said.
“Thank you, Creek,” she said, happily.
—
The baby came not long after. They were happy.
Then, the baby tore up her garden. Creek said it was fine, anyways, since the plants were dangerous if the baby ate them. Poppy argued that she knew she didn’t plant anything poisonous, but Creek had just frowned, telling her that poison wasn’t the only danger having a pollinator lawn could have on a baby. What if the tall grasses carried ticks? He mentioned that it’d probably be easier to have a normal lawn until the baby was old enough to not put things in their mouth and know where not to walk.
Poppy nodded, sadly. It was probably for the best. She didn’t have time to replant all of it anyways. She didn’t plant any grass seeds, though, just kept the dirt fresh for the next planting season.
—
She stopped dying her hair, not having the time or energy to keep up with it. With taking so much time taking care of the baby, she was just tying her hair up and out of the way most of the time. She didn’t style it, let alone run through her care routine. Creek said it was fine, the smell of dye gave him headaches anyways and was probably dangerous to have around a baby.
Poppy agreed reluctantly. It was probably for the best. She tossed her last bottles of dye into the garbage can. The next time she ran out of hairspray, she didn’t bother to get a new bottle of that either.
—
The house- her dream house- was not made for a crawling baby. Creek suggested that maybe they should live somewhere else- at least for a little bit. He still had his old RV, and they could go on a family trip. It would be just like when she was touring.
Poppy agreed. It was for the best. She felt a tightness in her chest as they drove away, watching her bright home shrink in the rearview. It felt like she was losing something big, even though they could move back in whenever.
—
It became harder to contact her friends on the road. Creek was always losing their phone chargers in the RV, despite the whole space being smaller than their old bedroom. He said it was fine, since she had been the one keeping up with her friends for so long- they could contact her first if they still wanted to talk.
Poppy didn’t argue. It was for the best. She didn’t have the energy to talk to them anymore and so many of them had been mad at her anyway.
—
Their baby was running around, no longer young enough to be considered a baby. They still hadn’t gone back home.
Poppy stopped arguing years ago. She stared listlessly out of the side window of the RV.
—
She watched with blank eyes as her child ran around the little store in the gas station, screaming and knocking things off of the shelves. There was a loud cacophony of noises as they pushed off a whole shelf of canned goods.
On the other side of the store, Creek wandered the aisles, barely acting more composed. He loudly declared when he found a product lacking as he opened packaging and tried camping gear out right there in the store.
It was the middle of the night, and the only light was from the overhead LEDs and a small TV above the cashier. The cashier, who stared at them judgementally from behind the counter.
Poppy wore baggy clothing, her hair pulled up into a bun to keep it from tangling. She didn’t have any energy to put towards being presentable anymore. She was just so tired of it all.
Creek appraised two more items, before picking one and walking out of the store. He claimed money was the root of all evil, and, in protest, refused to pay for anything. He claimed Poppy could do it if she really cared that much. He called it penance for all the money she used to make.
Her child grabbed random candies, making a run for it behind him. They didn’t care to look back at her as they raced past.
Poppy sighed, turning to the cashier and pulling out her wallet. “I’ll pay for everything,” she said, quietly.
The old man behind the counter huffed, crossing his arms. “You should drag that man back in here and make him pay for it. You didn’t do nothing wrong.”
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She had had that discussion too many times to expect anything to come from it. All it would do was start another fight, and she was just too tired at that point.
The TV behind the man caught his attention- a news story on the disappearance of a former global sensation. As the man counted her money, it talked about how the star had announced her engagement, had an extravagant wedding, and then disappeared. All previous appearances were canceled on short notice, and her house has been sitting empty for years. Her fellow artists expressed concern, and Poppy recognized the faces. One in particular made her pause.
The man at the counter huffed, looking back up to see what she was looking at. He frowned as the clip cut back to a photoshoot of the singer. “I wonder what happened to that poor girl,” he commented as the show switched to commercials. He glanced over at the customer in front of him. “Do you need to get anything?”
She paused, before remembering why they had stopped in the first place. They had run out of water and she had been extremely thirsty. She smiled apologetically at the man, who waved her off.
Quickly, she walked to the beverage fridges in the back of the store, opening the door and grabbing a water bottle. As the door swung shut, she watched as her reflection appeared.
She didn’t have her bright pink hair or characteristic smile. Her careful curls had been forced straight and shoved into a bun, her bangs growing out after years of not cutting them. Her bright eyes were dull. It made sense the man at the counter hadn’t recognized her. She didn’t recognize herself either.
She turned back to the counter, walking carefully. She glanced outside to double check no one was coming back in. The man looked up at her curiously.
“Do- do you have a phone I could use?” She asked, nervously.
—
Poppy locked herself in the bathroom at the back of the store to call Barb. She wasn’t afraid of what Creek would do if he found out she called someone… not totally.
The gas station was quiet except for the soft music playing overhead and the sound of the attendant tidying up the store. She clutched the man’s phone, grateful for the connection to the outside world.
It felt ridiculous, she thought. She talked with people all the time! It wasn’t like she had been locked in a basement somewhere, toiling away at chores! She felt stupid! What was she thinking!? She had chosen to stop talking to her friends and family!
“Hey, Popstar?” A voice said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. Barb was still on the phone, promising she would stay with her for as long as she needed. “How are you feeling?”
“I-” She hesitated, breath getting stuck in her throat. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She felt tears welling in her eyes- she was being ridiculous.
“That’s okay,” Barb responded easily. “Feelings are hard, man. There’s a lot of… mushy stuff in there.”
Despite herself, a small laugh burst out, instantly making her chest relax a fraction of an inch. “Aren’t most of your songs about that ‘mushy stuff?’” She teased softly.
“Well, uh, you see-” Barb sputtered out. Poppy felt herself smiling a little at it. “Music’s easier than words!” She burst out, trying to defend herself. “How ‘bout this- explain your feelings with music.”
She paused. She had performed countless songs over her life. She used to think in melodies and chords. Recently, though, it’d been quiet. “It’s-” she ventured nervously. “It feels like static. In my soul.”
“Gross.” Barb paused for a moment, only then considering what she had said. “Wait, no, sorry, that sounded wrong. Not you, me. I mean- sorry you feel like static?”
“It’s- it’s fine, really,” Poppy insisted. “It’s better than… I don’t know-”
She heard the bell from above the door and froze.
“Excuse me,” she heard distantly. Creek had come back. “I’m sorry, do you know where my wife ran off to?”
It was silent for a moment, and Poppy waited with bated breath and tight muscles. She distantly heard Barb through the small phone speaker, but it was cloudy.
“Come on, now, there’s no need for the grumpiness,” Creek continued, voice light and placating.
“You destroyed my store,” the clerk growled out. “Your wife better not be destroying my bathrooms.”
“Ah! She’s in the bathroom!” Creek said proudly. “Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go talk to her right now. We’re running awfully late, you know-”
Panicked, Poppy hung up and began looking around frantically for a place to hide the phone. She could shove it down her shirt, honestly, but she didn’t want to accidentally steal it from the nice old man.
“No way!” The aforementioned man yelled. She heard Creek actually pause in his tracks and she froze as well. “I know what you young couples do in places like this! If you want privacy, then you can go somewhere else!”
She felt her heart stop. He was going to kick her out anyways. Her time was up.
“I promise you, sir, it’s not-”
“No! You wait outside! I’ll escort your little lady out of here when she’s done, and you’ll be banned from my store after that!”
It was silent for a moment before she heard Creek huff angrily. “Fine.” He said curtly.
She heard his footsteps retreating and then the door swung open and closed again.
The clerk shuffled around the store, noisily sweeping, until he was right in front of the bathroom door. “Sorry, miss,” he said. “He’s gone now. Will your friend be long or should I go ahead and call the sheriff myself?”
“There’s no need to call the sheriff!" She rushed to say. “I promise, I just-!”
Just… just, what?
She was tired. She was so tired. She wanted to go home, but she didn’t know where home was anymore. She didn’t fear the RV, but… a part of her felt like she’d never come back out every time she entered.
…maybe she did fear it. Maybe she feared who she turned to in that RV. The quiet, dutiful wife who drove so her husband could sleep for a few hours and then watched the kid while her husband drove. The woman who didn’t even take the time to braid her hair to get it up and out of the way. The woman who didn’t see the point in trying very hard on her hair.
Or trying at all.
The realization shocked her. A sob choked up, bursting out of her. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” the old clerk said softly.
“We ruined your store,” she cried. “I’m just so tired.”
The man was quiet. “I understand,” he said. “You’ve been busy. That gets pretty tiring.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, she nodded, still crying. She tried to be quiet, but it didn’t work very well. It never did.
“Just so you know, the cops have pulled into the gas station,” the old man said. “There’s some rusty, old, blue car with them. Is that your friend?”
She wracked her memories, trying to think of anyone she knew with even a blue car. After so many years, though, she couldn’t be certain.
“A guy got out of the rusty blue car,” the old man narrated. “He’s walking towards the door. I’ll cover for you.” He shuffled away, sweeping loudly as he moved further away from the bathroom door.
She heard the front door of the shop open and close, and then the sirens started outside.
She tensed, clutching the man’s phone like the lifeline it was.
“Where is she?!” A voice demanded. It sounded a little familiar, but she didn’t trust that.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the old man grunted, calm despite the anger in the other person’s voice.
“Poppy!” The other voice said pointedly. “Barb called me desperate to find her! She said she’d called from this gas station!”
Barb. This guy had mentioned Barb. Slowly, she crept towards the door, ghosting her hand over the handle.
“The cops are right outside,” the old man grumbled. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Branch!” He burst out. She had thought all the wind had been knocked out of her already, but that squeezed out the little bit of air left. “I’m Branch Ramone, and I know Poppy Summers is here!”
Slowly, she turned the door handle. It unlocked with a louder click than she had wanted and both of the men were looking at her when she emerged from the bathroom, eyes puffy and breaths hiccuping and short.
Sure enough, the man in the store looked like her old friend. But, then again, they hadn’t really seen each other since he quit acting and singing at 10.
He recognized her, though. His shoulders immediately fell in relief, his eyes sparking with recognition. “Poppy,” he said. He faltered for only a split second of debate before continuing. “I still have your handheld, by the way.”
The last show they had been in together, he had complained about his brothers not letting him play games on their various devices. She had immediately handed hers over and told him to just give it back to her at some point. It was a little thing no one knew about- she hadn’t even told her dad that she’d given it away.
It convinced her that the man in front of her was the real deal.
Though, with how awkwardly he stood, she wasn’t sure if he meant it to or not.
Slowly, she nodded, eyes still locked on him as if afraid he’d disappear. She was holding her breath, waiting.
“Do you want a hotel?” Branch asked. “There’s not many in town, but I called and they have rooms. You can stay there until Barb gets to town, and then you can figure out what to do.”
“I-” she faltered, her muscles tensing. “I don’t think- I don’t-” She brought her hand up and pressed her palm into her eye. “It’s not-” She choked on her words, tears threatening to run wild again. “I’m sorry,” she burst out. She felt like the world was tilting underneath her. The sound of the police sirens faded away, and she realized the world was not tilting under her, but that she was the one tilting.
She was unconscious before she would have hit the ground.