Celeste's hands clenched in her own lap. The non-ATM machine was long, like a bus. But it was not really a bus, because the driver's seat was too high and they could not see the engine that was above them. “A few more minutes, I promise.” Celeste spoke as she took is hand off the side of the machine to reach for her bag and her phone. The engine sang, but it never blew any air into their faces. Something was broken.
“I want to go home” Celeste dared not speak aloud.
The machine sang. The bus driver must have heard. He sighed. The song died.
Celeste closed her eyes for a few minutes, then slowly turned toward the door. It was dark. All her nerves prickled as she slowly turned the handle. The door flung open and she stepped out. The same tired sound of engines echoed from the next machine, but didn't stop her. She got an uneasy giggle out of her throat though, as she hurried down the street and away from the world.
They sang louder as she climbed up the stairs, turning off lights. She tried to check the time, but could not.
“You're home late.” Her dad stood in the kitchen.
Light from the bathroom behind him poured in, making her dad appear to move by shadows. The house was very dark.
“I know.” She said simply, turning.
Her fingers searched and found the light switch by the door, clicking it up and down to try and get the one light that worked.
“So you still have the power?” Her dad made light of it, but she didn't know if he was joking. She only wondered where her mom had gone to.
“Yeah. I do.” Her dad didn't respond. She turned back to him. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”
“I don't mind.” he said.
“It's not about that. I want to.” Her dad waited for her to say more and she did. “I want to be alone.” Her words stopped suddenly
“I understand.”
Celeste nodded, but didn't speak. She didn't know if her dad was sitting on the couch, or if he was still there in the kitchen. She didn't look. The stairs creaked as she climbed them slowly and closed her bedroom door.
She was on her bed, covers pulled up and lights off. She waited for something to happen, but nothing came. She sat up, looking into the dark. Everything was so dark.
She reached for the light on her nightstand and clicked it into the on position. It remained the same, a dim light under the glass, lurching out with a dull glow. It didn't seem to work.
Her eyes flickered from the glass to her bedside table, where her phone was in its charger. The table had no lamps. Her eyes grew wide, but the table did not respond, only the wall switch that connected to the dining room. She slammed the phone down and fell back limply.
“At least I'm breathing.” Her lungs felt heavy.
Again, no response.
“You're safe.” No matter what happened now, no matter what she remembered, and no matter what she had done she was safe. “What are you going to do?”
As if in response, her phone lit up and buzzed. She popped it off the charger and answered without looking. The screen lit up with a picture of her dad.
“Hi.” Her voice cracked.
“Hi. Were you in bed?” Her dad asked.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you might be. It’s late.”
She burst into tears.
“Celeste? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” She nodded even though no one could see it.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Her dad asked.
“What do you think’s wrong?” She asked in a bitter tone.