Drifting Home

“So, are you gonna talk to her, or what?”

Elise’s voice rattled in Jason’s ear, and he nearly dropped his drink. He winced as she shouted sarcastically into his ear again, “It’s real fun when you’re high.” A peace sign over her mouth, she flicked her tongue between her fingers, the multicoloured lights flashing off her piercing.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, shoving her back. She laughed, and rolled her eyes, landing on what had been his fixation the entire night.

Waifish, with choppy platinum hair, and glowing, wide eyes, She stood some distance away, staring directly into one of the floodlights that filled the old warehouse. Her arms stretched out, as though she wanted to cradle the glow. She was intensely focused, lips slightly parted.

A strange energy had drawn him in, and Elise had been a thorn in his side about it the whole night. In his periphery, Elise was embraced and giddily led away by another woman, disappearing once again into the crushing, writhing mass of bodies. He thought he heard her say, “Don’t be a pussy, J!” but he wasn’t listening anymore.

She could have been just another rave girl, covered in glitter and pulsing with the music, but she seemed out of sync. She existed comfortably in a world just out of reach of everyone around her. She didn’t so much dance as she did float back into the crowd, which almost seemed to unconsciously part just for her. Jason’s ears burned. There was absolutely no way he could talk to her.

He huffed, wiped his face, and reached into his pocket for the little baggie which, to his dismay, was empty. Discarding it to the warehouse floor he reluctantly made up his mind, and moved to find Elise and the others. His mouth was dry, and his drink wasn’t helping, but maybe if he had enough of them he would feel better and his mind would quiet down. She always seemed to be just in the corner of his eye, no matter how much he wanted to avoid her. She acknowledged no one, nor did anyone acknowledge her. It was as though she was taunting him, without apparently even realizing it.

All at once their psychedelic world was brought to a halt- the music cutting out with the sharp crack of audio equipment being unplugged. The multicoloured party lights were replaced with red and blue flashing through the dingy windows, and the startled silence of the crowd was quickly overtaken by sirens. The ravers descended into chaos. Elise shook her car keys in front of his face, ever the mistress of a quick getaway, and rushed off. Time to go.

Jason wrestled through the fleshy, neon chaos to follow her, but he spotted once again the young woman. While the warehouse denizens filtered out she stood undaunted, quietly observing the shifted tone. Grinding his teeth, he rushed for her and grabbed her arm, turning her attention instantly to him.

“We gotta get you outta here,” he managed, indicating the flood of blue and red despite his anxiety spiking. She only continued to stare, prompting him to just get on with it and tugging her along with him. She didn’t resist.

In accordance with their ramshackle escape plan, Elise had parked her car a couple blocks away in an underused parking lot. With the sirens and lights safely obscured by deteriorating buildings, they had ample time to collect themselves. Elise had already started the car, Silas was polishing off something from a flask, and Noah lit a wrinkled cigarette. From the driver's seat, Elise looked over as Jason rounded the corner.

“Bro, c’mon!” she called.

“Who’s your friend?” snarked Silas, opening the door to the back seat for the young woman, a mock chauffeur. “Après vous.”

“Just, someone I met,” Jason muttered, clamouring in after her. Noah slid in after him, Silas rushed to the front, and they were off down an alley.

They took a few random turns in silence before Elise determined they were far enough away, and settled them back on course. Jason was far too close for comfort, shoved in the middle between Noah and the girl . She, however, was completely unphased, happy to just watch buildings go by as though this was routine for her.

Elise broke the silence, adopting a tone reserved for when she needed to talk someone out of a bad trip. “What’s your name, honey?”

The girl took a moment to answer. “I haven’t decided yet,” she said quietly, but unmistakably matter-of-fact. Elise frowned.

“Right. And where am I gonna take you?”

“Wherever you like.”

“Ha-kay.” Elise met Jason’s eyes in the rearview. “Gimme a smoke.”

He meekly passed her one, and they rolled to a stop in front of Noah’s apartment building. The other three discussed band practice tomorrow, but Jason stayed silent. The girl had fallen asleep, her head on the window, and Jason took advantage of Noah leaving to give her some space. Her presence in the car was foreign, a body that despite its repose demanded his attention. Did he think this would lead to anything? Was he just trying to be a decent guy? If it were any other girl at that rave it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was Her, and so, what now?

Elise started off again. Silas, craning his neck around to look at the sleeping girl, spoke in a low voice. “Good thing you got her outta there, who knows where she woulda ended up.” He turned back around in his seat. “Doesn’t look like she’d’ve made it very far.”

“Okay, J, where am I taking her?” Elise already looked very much like she wanted another smoke.

“Uh… Our place?”

Elise scrunched her nose. She never did like strangers in her space. “Fucking God.”

They dropped off Silas, who made a show of wishing the girl good night in whispers, but she didn’t move an inch. She had started snoring gently. Jason bustled into the front seat and set about appeasing Elise, who demanded that the girl leave in the morning.

She woke instantly when they moved to get her up to their shared apartment, watching them set up the couch for her. Like flicking a switch, once she closed her eyes again, she was out. Elise made a point of locking away her drumsticks and Jason’s guitars in her room once they turned in; a move he couldn’t blame her for, but made him feel obligated to come to the defence of the young woman. Elise brushed him off, slamming her bedroom door. He turned in initially leaving his door unguarded, but Elise’s precautions won out, and he locked his door too. He slept, but did not rest.

When he woke the room was spinning and his vision swam. Buttery eggs wafted through the closed door Elise was already up, hopefully making food for their strange guest? Of course, it was entirely possible that the girl had just up and left, which he supposed was fine. Maybe even for the best. But, wouldn’t Elise have woken him up to tell him?

He took a deep breath, sat up in bed, and grabbed his grinder from the nightstand. Before committing to standing, he set himself up with enough for a joint; honestly, just stalling. Eventually, he couldn’t draw it out anymore.

Elise looked up briefly from her eggs when he opened the door. “I gotta go in 20. Your girl is up.”

And so she was, standing at the living room window looking down onto the street. He gave the room a once over despite himself; she wouldn’t take anything, right? There wasn’t much to pocket, worthless notebooks full of half-realized ideas, old takeout cups, and a dying houseplant. An organized chaos that he had not been self-conscious about until that moment.

The girl turned to fix Jason with her large, round eyes, which had seemed almost black last night. But now, in the light, he was met with irises so icy they were almost white. After a couple unblinking seconds, she turned and stared back out the window.

Jason glanced at Elise, whose jaw was clenched in annoyance.

“I’m gonna go downstairs for a sec,” he blurted, and before either woman could respond he was gone.

He was coming back up when he passed Elise in the stairwell. She warned him tersely that he had to figure out what to do with her. “I made her a plate but she hasn’t touched it. Told me she ‘hasn’t picked a name’.” She put air quotes around the phrase. “I don’t think she has a place to go, J.” There was a glint of sympathy as Elise glanced back at the door, before hustling out to work.

The girl was still standing at the window when he returned. He wondered what she was thinking, sitting on the couch and bracing himself.

“Alright,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, “-what’s your name again?”

The girl turned to him once again, eyes curious and sharp. She lowered to the floor across from him, and crossed her legs. “Your friend asked me that too. I told her I haven’t decided yet. What’s yours?”

Her gaze was taking him apart, piece by piece. “Uh, Jason, but everyone calls me J. That’s, fine, just J.”

“J.” She seemed to consider this. “Okay, I think you can call me Anaïs for now.”

“Uh, alright. Anaïs. Can I call anyone for you?”

“No.”

“Parents? Friends?”

“No. My mother died when I was born. My father, I suppose, said it was my fault. I suppose he was right. Several families tried to adopt me, but they were all boring. I left them all behind.” Her expression did not change, as though she were reciting a grocery list. “I don’t have any friends.”

A pause. Jason shifted awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Jason swallowed. “So, you, went to that rave by yourself? That’s dangerous.”

“For you. I have more fun that way. I always meet new, interesting people. Like Elise, and you.” She smiled softly. Jason felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and she cut off his blustering response. “I don’t think I like Anaïs. I’ll pick a new name soon. I want some coffee, will you come with me?”

Half an hour later they sat on the patio at the coffee shop across the street, him taking far too many sips of a vanilla latte and her with both hands on an americano. It was her turn to interrogate him, and he was doing his best to keep up.

What kind of music did they play? How often did they perform? How long had they been together? How many guitars does he have? Does Elise always keep them in her room?

“When is your next show?”

He stuttered out responses rapid fire, but her attention only grew in intensity. He had been on stage dozens of times, but had never felt anxiety quite like this. Eventually she allowed him a moment to breathe, and he checked his phone. He was late. The others would be expecting him.

“Do-do you have somewhere to go?” He didn’t know if he wanted the answer.

“No, nowhere.”

“You-you’re homeless?” He regretted the question immediately.

“I haven’t needed a home.” Anaïs, or whatever her name was, brushed the question off entirely, as if a home wasn’t necessary. She smiled then, warmly, and Jason wanted to see that smile as often as he could. “Thank you for everything.” She stood.

“Wait uh, do you need money?”

“No, but thank you.” She took the last sip of her coffee, leaving the cup on the table. Jason scrambled for something to say to keep her there longer, but she saved him the trouble, pausing a few paces away. “Can I come back some time?”

“Please.” He couldn’t help but sound desperate.

***

And so she came and went as she pleased, sporting a different name every time. Sometimes she was gone for a few hours, other times days, but always came back hopped up on something to count the cracks in the paint of the seams in the couch. She would always water their poor plant. She was always close to the stage at their shows, the psychedelics she seemed to always be on making her lose herself as they played. She claimed it was the best music she had ever heard, and Jason believed her.

She had endless questions about anything she could ask about. Despite herself, Elise eventually found herself enthusiastically answering all of them, taking the girl under her motherly wing. She worried when the girl was gone, and relieved when she came home. The girl slid into the group effortlessly, as though she were a piece they never knew was missing. At the raves, she would take Jason by the wrist and pull him through the crowd, not just allowing, but inviting him into her world.

She understood things he didn’t, saw things he couldn’t, she would probe into anything and everything, drawing conclusions that only made sense to her.

The day of her most recent visit was a quiet one, and she sat with Jason as the apartment filled with the orange light of sunset, examining his calloused hands. “It’s been a very long time,” she whispered, folding his hands in her lap, “since I’ve stayed in one place this long.”

He didn’t know whether to pull his hands back or not, so he left them there and met her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She looked through him, thinking. “I don’t want to leave.”

He had never been more relieved in his life. “Good.”

She laid back, pulling him with her, and they curled up on the couch. He pulled her close.

“I picked a name,” she breathed once they were comfortable. “I’m going to keep it.”

“Yeah?”

“Laure.”

He closed his eyes, settling his chin on the top of her head. “I love it.”