Time Quickly Runs By

Four years passed, and I heard nothing from my faery. Rachel graduated, and became a nurse at good hospital a few hours away. I moved a few times, trying to find the best college housing I could in a small town. Finally, for my last semester, I ended up back where I started: those small apartment buildings up the hill: tiny kitchens, cinder block walls, and cheap rent.

It was unsettling, being back there after so long. I never dared to try going through the door in the hedge. It would only mean more trouble for him, and I may have caused enough of that already. What had Ciaran said, after all? We either live with it, or forget and move on. I didn’t notice any birds following me, either. Soon after the semester started, though, my new roommate Megan noticed the increasingly brave population of squirrels.

I have never liked squirrels. I do not feed them. Many students do, however, because they think they are cute. Only at a distance can I agree. Megan was soft-hearted and among those of the squirrel-feeding students. One rodent must have lived near our apartment, and she started feeding it after she got home: crackers, bread, cookies -- soon it was close to eating out of her hand.

From the living room window I would see it, standing on the sidewalk with its little eyes watching for her, waiting. The stalker squirrel. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw a crow swoop down from a tree towards it and then not attack it. They even seemed to converse congenially, and share the crumbs Megan had thrown. Then the crow flew back up into the tree.

It had to be a conspiracy.

It was the weekend after midterms. The sun was high and warm, and the campus gardens were lazy and quiet, because everyone was tired from Friday night. And why not? When you have a Saturday to kill, what’s wrong with watching your favorite detective show until past three in the morning? John was about to tell me. He knew exactly what to say.

“Ashlyn,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose in a snooty way. “You are an escapist. You need to stop running away and face the facts.”

Oh yes, John and I became friends -- well, sort of. The kind of friends that hang out with each other after their other friends have graduated and left. He was good at math, and helped me out when I needed tutoring, although most of these sessions almost ended with one of us wanting to choke the life out of the other. Also, he was balding, but that’s not relevant.

“I know you’re scared of change,” John added, in a patronizing way, “but change happens. And that’s okay. You can take chances. But you need to wake up and realize where you are.”

“Huh. Pretty good advice, John.” I adjusted my position on the gray stone ledge we were sitting on.

“You don’t need to sound so surprised.” He was hurt.

I stretched and yawned. “I’m not surprised. Is it okay if I nap here?”

“See? You’re running again!” John pointed at me triumphantly. “I try to pin you down, and you slide out again like Jello.”

“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose.

“Stop it! I’m just trying to help.” He folded his arms and sighed, giving me a look.

“Well, thanks.” I said. "But I don't recall asking for it." He made me feel so much like a teenager at times. I leaned my head against the gazebo wall behind me, listening to the fountain gurgle. It was warm in the sunlight, and the dust and insects danced in its beams.

“Do you think spring is in the air just because of all the pollen that floats around? Or do you think there’s another reason?” I asked him randomly.

           He gave me another look. “Back to studying...”

“I’m tired of studying. I’ll just go to work early today.”

“Sure, if you want to be a baker for the rest of your life.”

The thought made me smile. “It would depend on the bakery, but I wouldn’t mind, no.” I packed my shoulder bag.

“Speaking of food, am I still invited to dinner tonight?”

“Of course. But you have to bring something healthy this time.”

“Tater tots are healthy!”

“When I say ‘vegetable,’ I mean something green and not fried! Tater tots don’t count.”

“Agree to disagree, madam.”

I rolled my eyes at him and went to work, making cookies. Work at the campus bakery went by quickly, and I always enjoyed not having to think about anything else that was going on outside of its walls. I was walking home through the gardens and up the hill again, when John’s irritating words came back to me: “You are an escapist, Ashlyn. You need to stop running.” Stop running from what?

As I crossed the parking lot, I felt it again, that feeling. The music box playing in the background. That ache in my chest. I shrugged it off and mounted the stairs leading to the street.

Then the wind picked up, the trees waved their branches, and the “C Parking” sign rattled against its pole. It was wild, almost dangerous, like the warning signs of a storm that you’d see in the movies. I stopped and watched the leaves and dust fly in a half-circle around me. My heart thumped expectantly and I felt the energy in the air build, like the crescendo of a song.

Someone was there. I turned around quickly.

           No one. Nothing but the empty parking lot. The wind died down. I felt greatly disappointed, but not having a storm is good, right? There was a scuffling noise nearby. It was a squirrel, scurrying through the bushes.
           I ran up the stairs. Not from the squirrel, of course! From everything.