Previously on Haverbrook [read the full episode here]
After about an hour, I turned off the news. It was not helpful, which I should have known. Doomsday predictions were not what I needed to hear. Before the depressing news led me to contemplate drastic life changes, I decided the best course of action was a nap. I pulled the nondescript blanket off the back of the couch, fluffed the nubbly throw pillow, and settled in.
I woke up to John in the kitchen, making dinner.
“Do you like stir fry?” he asked. It must have been a long nap because I was starving again.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” I answered as I rubbed my eyes.
“We can eat in about ten minutes.”
I used my ten minutes to pee and splash water on my sleep-crusted eyes. When I got back to the kitchen, John had set a stack of plates, silverware, and two wine glasses on the kitchen island. I laid out the plates and silverware for our meal. John opened a bottle of red table wine and poured us each a glass.
“Maybe not the ideal wine with chicken, but I’m not a fan of white,” John said with a grin on his face. I couldn’t help but grin back.
We had a nice dinner, a couple of glasses of red wine, and no horrific baby corn in the stir fry.
As we ate, I decided now was a good time to talk about the nagging feeling I’d had ever since I saw John at the grocery store.
“Have we met before?” I asked, again with the blurting.
I thought his face went a bit pale before he replied, “no, we’ve never met before. Do I look familiar?”
“Yes, but I don’t know why. I can’t place where I know you from.”
“Maybe I remind you of someone you know?”
“I meet a lot of people at networking events, maybe you remind me of one of them,” I offered to myself as an explanation. I was trying to shake this odd sense of forgetting something important.
As John started to clear the dishes off the kitchen island, he asked, “Do you go out after dinner? I mostly stay in on weeknights.”
“I have no desire to venture anywhere right now,” I replied, absentmindedly. I watched John load the dishwasher and move the silverware, which I had loaded willy-nilly, into their correct baskets.
‘Netflix and chill,’ was my first thought about staying in, and then caught myself at what that implied.
“Go to Netflix and find us a movie to watch while I finish up in the kitchen,” he suggested. Did he read my mind?
I sat on the couch to find the correct remote from his assembled collection on the coffee table.
“Have you watched the new season of Dark Valley yet?” I asked, then regretting it. I needed something less gloomy.
“I’m not in the mood for that,” he replied. Did he read my mind again, or did I read his?
Instead, I chose one of those old-fashioned screwball comedies where everything turns out for the best in the end.
After the movie, I wasn’t tired yet, so John and I talked, getting some time to learn about each other. I asked John about his work, but he couldn’t tell me much since the Outer Frontier program was classified.
“There is a new project starting in a few months, and I’m hoping to be included on the team,” John offered, naked ambition in his voice.
“They’re not putting anything on hold because of the rioting in the city? I asked.
“No, most of the employees in the program live in Haverbrook or Broughton. We’re pretty insulated.”
I asked about his model planes, and he talked about how he started building them with his father when he was ten. I droned away about my (former?) job and a few failed relationships. After about an hour, John said it was time for him to go to bed. He offered me the bed again, but I didn’t want to kick him out of his bed.
“No, the couch and I are old friends. He might be hurt if I didn’t sleep here,” were my exact words. How could John not fall for my charms?
The next morning, the coffee had me up again. I shuffled across the room to the kitchen where John was sipping his coffee and scrolling through his phone.
“Morning, did the couch treat you ok?” he asked, probably thinking he was clever.
“Yes, very supportive and a good listener,” following along with the joke.
He was tickled by my joke and gave me that half-smile of his. “I don’t normally eat breakfast, but there are some eggs and bread for toast if you’re hungry. I’m about to start working, so you’re on your own again today.”
“I’m good at entertaining myself. I might take a walk into town. Is it safe?”
“Yes, Haverbrook has private security. I’ll get you a key and gate card so you can come and go as you like,” he offered as he took a spare set out of a kitchen drawer.
After John sequestered himself in his office, I decided breakfast was a good idea. I made myself two of the last three eggs and a slice of toast. John was low on some food, and with the extra mouth to feed, restocking his fridge was the least I could do.
After breakfast, I dressed and headed out the door. I decided against a shower since I would have to put my dirty clothes back on. I hoped there would be somewhere in town to buy some new clothes to supplement my only set.
I stepped out of John’s apartment building into the crisp air. Before I headed into town, I stopped at the grocery store to withdraw more money from the bank. As I approached the bank counter, a metal gate covered the entrance. A sign on the gate explained the branch had run out of money and was closed until liquidity improved. Maybe there was another branch in town that would have money?
I walked out of the grocery store and checked my phone for the best route to walk to the central district– nearly two miles. In a rare moment of forward-thinking, I went back into the store to buy a sandwich and bottle of water to carry for lunch. With only $163, eating at a restaurant was not in the budget.
While John’s apartment block was austere and soviet-style utilitarian, my walk took me through parts of Haverbrook that were serene and pastoral. Ten-foot evergreens lining the sidewalk, hiding posh homes with park-like yards. It reminded me how barren my neighborhood was, even before the rioting. A skinny tree here and there. And a few patches of grass for dogs to piss on.
I passed a small park and sat on a bench to bask in the smell of the evergreens. Usually, the scent of fir trees made me think of Christmas. But today, my mind kept turning to the scene I walked through yesterday. Burned out buildings, tired-looking firemen, defeated officers. Was I even still on the same planet here?
After the brief rest, I continued into town. When I arrived in the central district, I found one of those town centers that tries too hard to make itself look like an old-fashioned small town. Two-story neo-Victorian style buildings circled an imposing courthouse. Except the ‘courthouse’ wasn’t a courthouse, it was full of shops. Oh, and a bank.
In the ‘courthouse’ lobby, the tip-tap of my shoes on the white marble floor echoed in the quiet, empty building. The shops were closed at that time of the morning. They had impossibly clean glass windows with stylish displays of clothing, housewares, books. I scrolled through the directory for the bank– it was on the second floor. I tip-tapped my way up the marble staircase, feeling the cold polish of the brass handrail as I climbed.
I found the bank office, but it was also closed. The same sign about illiquidity posted to the glass shopfront. Defeated, I walked down the stairs and deliberated if I should look for some clothes in one of the shops in the courthouse. Looking at the elegant, minimalist display in the window, I figured my $150 would not go far there. I’d better look for a thrift store.
I stepped out of the courthouse into the crisp sunny morning and sat on one of the lacquered benches on the courthouse lawn. Occasionally a car would drive by, but I was alone. I scanned the shops ringing the courthouse square. A pizza place, a sushi bar, a French bistro – none of which were helpful to me. Though in a few hours, that pizza place would start to look good. I strolled over to the closed storefront to see if they sold pizza by the slice. But when I perused the menu posted on the frosted glass door, a standard slice of pepperoni would have been out of place. My tastes should have craved tarragon-infused wild boar pepperoni accented with Madagascar peppercorns.
As I walked the circle of shops facing the courthouse square, I began to lose interest in my adventure. I wanted to go back to John’s apartment to sit by the sunny window and watch screwball comedies. But I needed clothes. I sat back down on the bench on the courthouse lawn and searched on my phone for a place I could buy clothes.
There were no clothing resale shops near the courthouse square. But there were some on the outskirts of Haverbrook. I decided to wander around the well-manicured town center a while longer before ponying up for a carshare to take me to the less upmarket part of Haverbrook.
Before I left the central district, I sat on the courthouse lawn and ate my sandwich. Grey clouds started to roll in and block the sun. The wind picked up, and I began to regret not bringing my coat. I finished my sandwich and ordered the carshare.