A Lapse In Time

"How do you want your eggs, doll?"

Yara stared blankly into the cup of black coffee as all the sounds became muffled in the diner.

The portly waitress repeats, with less patience than she had before, "How do you want your eggs? Did you need me to come back?" Emerging from her mental fog, Yara slowly responded, "No...Scrambled, please...Thank you".

But Yara knew that her order, just like her coffee, would go neglected because of her lack of appetite. She couldn't seem to shake the looming feeling of dread that hung over her.

She had lost the time again, awakened in unfamiliar surroundings again, wearing unfamiliar clothes again. But the blood...the blood on her hands was new...

***

Ever since Yara was young, she suffered from memory lapses. Gaps in time where she was unable to remember what happened or how she got there. As time went on, the stretches of time she would forget, began to lengthen. Ten minutes, an hour, two hours, a night. An uneasy existence that resulted in her being misunderstood and withdrawn from friends and family. Her absentee father had no interest in fatherhood, let alone an interest in a moody, atypical child. Her mother, marginally empathetic to her daughter's plight, suffered from her own blackouts. While Yara would lose track of reality at random, her mother's bouts were self-induced by way of nightly binge drinking. Her mother could not fully grasp the concept that a similar issue could occur without the help of an outside influence. This left Yara's only saving grace in Taylor. A fellow early 20-something with big city career hopes that were a dream deferred indefinitely after the death of her mother in high school, and her father falling ill shortly after, confining him to her childhood home. While Yara always had issues maintaining romantic relationships, Taylor found her safe space in Greg, the town ne're-do-well and her boyfriend of 3 years. All growing up on the same street, Greg took over the deed to his family home next door to Taylor, and Taylor lived in the neighboring house next door to Yara's mother. Yara would visit Taylor during those times when she needed to feel more grounded. They had been best friends since grade school. Taylor was often there for Yara to help fill in the gaps. It was now time to look to her friend once more.

***

Yara awakened dizzily in a dark room on a carpeted floor. Just the light from a partially opened bathroom door to offer clues as to where she may be. The carpet felt scratchy against her hands and cheek as she slowly rose to her feet to survey the scene. A motel room. A cheap motel room. A throbbing sensation began to pulse in her scalp, just above her ear. "Did someone hit me?", she wondered. As she made her way towards the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of a digital clock which read 11:07pm. Her heart rate quickened from mild panic. Five hours unaccounted for. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the light in contrast to the darkened room, she looked at herself in the mirror. Cropped motorcycle jacket and a form-fitting, sleeveless black dress, with far more cleavage showing than Yara's conservative wardrobe usually calls for. Her thick curly hair, swept up into a bun. She hated her hair up. She frowned and instinctively bent down to turn on the faucet to wash her hands. Her mild panic suddenly turned into breathless shock and disgust. Dried, velvet red streaks and blotches covered the palms of both hands. Blood. Eager to find the injury that caused such a mess, Yara washed her hands vigorously. So much effort for so little success. Blood stains the skin. She then came to yet another realization. She knew that the now faint streaks of blood on her hands did not belong to her, but to someone else.

The sick, sinking feeling in her stomach, weakened her knees, forcing her to sit on the lid of the commode. As if on autopilot, Yara began to search the pockets of the jacket for her cellular. Found. "Finally something familiar", she breathed to herself. From her recent call list, she located Taylor's number and started the call with hope, confusion, and fear rushing over her like tidal waves.

"Hello?", Taylor answered the call with a worried tone.

"Taylor? I could really use your help", Yara's voice began to break. "I'm in a motel and I don't know what happened but I just woke up and there's blood and I can't get it off...", she sobs quietly as her voice trails off, with trembling hands holding the cellular.

"Oh, my God! Yara, stop. Just stop talking, okay? Go over to the window and look for landmarks. What are you near?", Taylor's voice ripe with concern.

"I don't know... I don't know", Yara says tearfully. She starts out of the bathroom and back into the room as her eyes search for a window. Her breath catches in her throat as her gaze falls upon a large mass on the bed. In a hoarse whisper, Yara chokes out, "Taylor! There's someone here! Someone's in the bed... I don't think they're breathing! Oh, my God!"

Taylor forces a calmer tone so as not to match Yara's fright. "Yara, breathe, okay? Just breathe. You've gotta get outta there. Don't touch him. Just try to find out where you are, okay?"

Adhering to the initial instruction, Yara stumbled toward a small, dusty window frame, peered through, and saw an illuminated sign that read Sleepy's 24/7 Diner.

"I see--I see a diner", she stammered.

"Great. Meet me there". Taylor disconnects the call abruptly.

***

The shrill chime of the bell above the diner door startled Yara out of her daze. She looked up towards the door and met eyes with Taylor. As she watched her friend walk toward her booth with urgency, a wave of emotion washed over her. Her eyes filled with tears.

Taylor scooted awkwardly into the squeaky booth, and sat opposite of Yara at the silver lined table. She attempted to console Yara, beckoning her hands across the table and grasping them tightly.

In a worried whisper, Taylor said, "Everything'll be okay. Just tell me what you remember".

Yara squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head emphatically. "Nothing. I don't remember anything after getting home from work, and changing into my sweats. Definitely not...this!", she said gesturing toward the black clad outfit she was wearing.

"Okay... Okay... We're gonna get to the bottom of this. We always do, right? I'm here for you. That's what matters". Taylor paused and was sure to deliver the next statement very carefully. "...But...it may not be a bad idea for you to lay low for awhile...Just in case, you know?"

Yara was stunned. She snatched her hands from Taylor's grasp. "You think I did something?!" Yara raised her voice much louder than intended. A young couple sitting in a nearby booth looked up from their meals, alarmed, then immediately returned to their date. Yara, apologetic, lowered her voice remembering the sensitive nature of the subject at hand.

Taylor broke her gaze with Yara and looked down, shaking her head slowly. "It just...It just doesn't look good, Yara. I mean, you said you had blood on your hands", she whispered while looking around the diner for onlookers or eavesdroppers. Taylor sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm not accusing you. This has just been a really crazy night. I haven't heard from Greg all night and he usually calls when he gets off of work. When you called, I guess I thought it may have been him".

Yara's general concern for her mutual friend quickly morphed into a feeling of fear and disgust in the pit of her stomach. She felt her breathing become ragged and shallow as she thought of the body currently laying lifeless in the motel room. "No... I could never...would never hurt...would I?", she thought to herself reluctantly.

Taylor noticed the change in her best friend's disposition. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Did you remember something?"

Yara was speechless. To even try to articulate what came to mind would be a betrayal of their friendship. Her head began to throb. The same spot that she believed she had been struck a blow earlier that night. She cradled the right side of her head with her hand to alleviate the pain, when another thought interrupted her private guilt. An awful and incomplete thought. As the words came to mind, so they flowed out of her mouth. "How...how did you kn--how did you know where to meet me?", Yara mumbled.

"What? What do you mean?", Taylor unable to clearly decipher what was said.

Yara, organizing her thoughts, spoke with assertiveness. "Taylor... I never told you which diner to meet me...but you knew to come here. How?"

Taylor sighed and bit her lip hard. The initial concern that plagued her face was gone. Only a stern, clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. "I saw you...", she swallowed hard and looked fixedly at Yara's face. Her eyes welling up with tears. "I saw you together. I followed him...I had no other choice..."