Chapter 2: Starting AfreshI have always taken comfort in new beginnings. New school, new home, opportunities to forget the past and become the person you want to be. I suppose it's ironic, my proclivity for new beginnings—because we were always being moved around, most of the other orphanage kids yearned for stability. But beginnings help me forget.My marriage to Doug is just like a new beginning. And for what may be the first time in my life, this change feels completely right, absolutely perfect. We had our house built, nice, fresh, new. It's quite big but rather empty, as we kind of ran out of cash after the initial decorating and buying suitable essentials. But it's nice enough, and Doug is an absolute sweetheart and never complains.Doug cooks most of the time, mostly because I'm a lousy cook (I'm trying to improve, I swear!). He's also somewhat OCD and is unreasonably irritated by the first signs of dirt, so he's always cleaning up, too. I suppose our little family is all about rejecting gender roles so far…not that I'm complaining! I've taken up painting, because it helps me stay distracted. People also have said that I'm Artistic, so perhaps I'll be able to make a little money on the side.
Wonderfully enough, the school calls me up and asks me to teach an art class for a little. I gain some art skills of my own, and better yet, earn some simoleons.
But that isn't the odd part. As I walk through the deserted hallway of the school to make my way out, a woman stops me. Her eyes are glazed over, as though she's sleepwalking or somehow unconscious of what she's doing. But then she starts talking.
A league and a score,
A century or more,She will lie underneathThe deep blue, awaiting you.The weird, discordant poem sends a prickle crawling up my spine. For a few seconds, my vision goes black. The next thing I know, I'm sitting in a taxi on my way home. I don't even remember hailing the cab, but shaken as I am, I just go with it. Doug sees me and comforts me, but I just want to forget. So he helps me.
We fall asleep then, but the ominous strains of the poem float between my ears as I drift off to sleep.