Chapter 1: Kimmy Has a Flashback!
“Titus, come on!” Kimmy called to Titus from the doorway of their garden-level apartment with her purple JanSport in hand. “Jacqueline can't legally drive by herself anymore since she got arrested for blindly driving down a Durnsville sidewalk and she won't stop sending me messages with angry-looking smiley faces in them.” The constant vibration of her iPhone elicited a groan out of Kimmy as she watched emoji after emoji pop up on her lock screen. She was glad she had a phone to call her own, but was still kind of bitter about the fact that she didn't have one of the Nokia 3395s all of her friends had before she got kidnapped.
“I'm coming, Kimpatient,” Titus replied, rushing between his bedroom and the living room with a hard-shelled, child's Queen Elsa suitcase. “I'm making sure I can fit all my clothes and tapes in my bag. I can't go on a road trip without my bejeweled panties and Whitney.” He snatched up a pile of cassette tapes from the coffee table and rushed back into his room.
“You should've packed last night like I suggested, Titus!” Kimmy exclaimed as she watched Titus shoving shirts into his small suitcase. “Plus, I don't even think we're going to be gone that long. Jacqueline is just going back home for a few childhood things.”
“I hope you're right, girl. I could only fit ten shirts, three pairs of pants, and a sock in here.” Titus sauntered out of his room, pulling his luggage behind him. “But I can't find my panties!”
“Your panties?” Kimmy questioned, cringing as the word rolled off her tongue. She had always hated hearing that word, but didn't realize how bad it sounded until it came from her own mouth.
“Yes, my bejeweled panties! They're my lucky panties.” Titus rested a clenched fist on his hip.
“Stop saying that word!” Kimmy exclaimed, covering her ears with her palms.
“Panties?” Titus questioned.
Kimmy groaned loudly and shook her head. If she heard that disgusting word one more time, she was going to vomit.
“Where'd you put your tapes if you only had room for your clothes?” Kimmy queried, trying her best to change the subject.
“My tapes are in my pockets,” he paused, motioning to the rectangular bulges on either of his thighs, “and this woman better have a damn tape player in her car.” God only knew what Titus was going to do if he shoved twelve of his most valuable (and most damaged) cassette tapes in his pockets for nothing.
Kimmy slid her backpack over her shoulder and her phone into her back pocket. She didn't know whether she was more impatient or excited, but either way, she was feeling things because she was about to be in a car with her two favorite people for a very long time.
Once Titus had finally gathered his belongings, or lack thereof, he and Kimmy left their apartment and strolled down the streets of Manhattan with their bags, only eliciting weird looks from a few people. Kimmy wasn't sure if it was because of the “Arrest RWGW 2k15” sweater she was given at the merchandise tent outside of the bunker trial or if it was because a full-grown black man was dragging a toddler-sized suitcase down the sidewalk, but as far as she was concerned, they were probably just jealous.
Like any other time they had gotten far away from their building, Titus began to worry.
“Oh, Kimmy, did I lock the door?”
Kimmy shrugged, maneuvering her way between the tourists that flooded the sidewalks of Times Square. “Even if you didn't, I think that family of decapitated rats on Lillian's stoop will scare people off.”
Titus sighed, beginning to panic at the thought of someone breaking in and stealing his very large collection of Barbie furniture.
“What if I left Lillian's water running when I took a bath? Oh, she's gonna kill me faster than the Olsen quadruplets killed the person that outed them.”
Kimmy shook her head.
“Titus, it's fine. Lillian should be back from her mandatory wellness retreat before we're back from South Dakota. And you know that homeless guy that lives across the street will turn it off if the building starts flooding.” Kimmy tried her best to reassure a panicking Titus, but it was no use. When she heard him begin to nervously hum U.N.C.O.U.P.L.E.D. from Starlight Express, she knew they had to get to Jacqueline's. Kimmy grabbed Titus's free hand and began lightly jogging through the sea of people.
“Kimothy, I can't run this fast! My feet are bunion city and I'm not wearing my orthopedic shoes!” Titus heaved, trying to keep up with what seemed to be Kimmy's lightning fast pace.
“Don't worry about it,” Kimmy called back to Titus as they sprinted into the Upper East Side, “I can see her place from –“ Before Kimmy could finish her sentence, she halted abruptly, causing Titus to almost fall on top of her.
“Here.”
“Warn a bitch before you stop like that, Kimberly. I could've lost all of my tapes. My precious, precious tapes.” Titus straightened himself out, patting his pockets to make sure all of his tapes were still there.
Kimmy walked up to the gate in front of the Voorhees townhouse and pressed the buzzer. As she waited for Jacqueline to let her and Titus in, Kimmy decided that it was as good of a time as any to check her phone. No sooner than she pulled her phone from her back pocket, it buzzed for what seemed to be the trillionth time that day. A text message that read “WTF is taking you so long we need 2 leave” hovered on Kimmy's lock screen. Kimmy's brow furrowed, not sure how to reply.
“Hey, Titus?”
Titus looked up from the mess of ancient Whitney Houston music in his hands.
“What?”
“What does WTF mean? I never learned any fancy abbreviations in the bunker and Jacqueline won't stop saying it in her messages.”
Titus clicked his tongue as he shoved his tapes back into his pants and patted Kimmy on the shoulder.
“Some questions are better left unanswered, Kimbert.” It wasn't like the acronym was something Kimmy had never heard him say before, but Titus knew, like every other current term and acronym he taught Kimmy, she would never stop using it and find a way to fit it into every single conversation they had.
Kimmy shrugged and unlocked her phone, trying to come up with a way to respond to Jacqueline's text without making herself look like the halfwit she tended to come across as. As she started typing up a response, the gate buzzed and unlocked.
“Finally!” Titus squealed, grabbing his small suitcase and swinging the gate open.
Immediately, another text popped up on Kimmy's phone screen.
“Front door is unlocked. Look like homeless lesbian,” Kimmy read aloud as she walked through the gate. She looked up at the front door she and Titus approached with a wrinkled brow. She never knew Jacqueline to look homeless, nor however a lesbian was supposed to look, even on her bad days. Kimmy always saw a beautiful, radiant forty-something year old woman (because Kimmy agreed to never acknowledge Jacqueline's real age), even when she wasn't dressed to the nines and caked with makeup.
“It can't be that bad,” Titus assured Kimmy, opening the door to the Voorhees townhouse.
“It is,” Jacqueline responded from in front of the stairs, pulling tightly on the drawstrings that hung from her (son's) sweatshirt. The hood made her look something like Kenny from South Park, which made Kimmy quite uncomfortable.
Titus let go of his luggage, letting it fall over onto the hardwood floor. As he approached Jacqueline, he clicked his tongue again.
“Girl, take your hood off. You look ridiculous.” Titus emphasized every syllable of the word, tilting his head in as sassy of a manner as he could manage.
“No, don't,” Jacqueline protested as she backed into the handrail of the stairs. She swatted at Titus's hands as he attempted to pull the hood away from her face and off her head. It was no use.
“Oh, come on, Mrs. Not Voorhees Anymore,” Titus persuaded, pulling the tight, navy fabric away from Jacqueline's face. “You look great! I would kill to look like you when die and come back as a middle-aged white lady.”
Kimmy peered over Titus's shoulder and gasped.
“Don't look at me! I look homeless in the least chic, hipster way possible.” Jacqueline attempted to shield her face as Titus pushed the hood off of her head. Her usual golden blonde bob was wildly unkempt, presumably from multiple sleepless nights, and turning a light shade of brown at the roots, which came as a shock to both Titus and Kimmy. She wasn't wearing near as much bronzer or lipstick as either Kimmy or Titus were used to, but she wasn't makeupless by any means.
“Girl, if you look homeless, what do I look –” Titus attempted to argue, but was cut off by a slap in the face by the arm of the Dalton Tigers Lacrosse sweatshirt that Jacqueline quickly decided to shed. “Like.”
“Okay, fine. There. My bags are already in the car, let's go.” Jacqueline marched past Titus, throwing Buckley's sweatshirt on the floor and moving her Gucci sunglasses from the top of her head to her face. She approached a still stunned Kimmy, who seemed to be frozen right in front of the door. “Let's go.”
Kimmy didn't budge, her face best resembling that of a teenage boy who had just seen boobs for the first time.
“Kimmy,” Titus called from behind Jacqueline, who was growing very impatient. “Kimmy?” Immediately, it hit Titus. He knew what was happening. “Oh, Lord.”
“What? What's going on?” Jacqueline questioned, a hint of panic in her voice. Immediately, she cleared her throat, attempting to mask the fact that she was feeling emotions she swore she’d never feel.
“I think she's having a flashback.”
“How can you tell?”
“Well,” Titus began, walking up to Kimmy and snapping his fingers in Kimmy’s face, “She’s about as frozen as I was when Adam Lambert didn't win Idol.” Titus then started poking her sides in various places. He expected a reaction of something along the lines of a guffaw or a flying punch, but nothing happened. “This girl is so ticklish literally everywhere. I've gotten bruises from tapping her on the shoulder a couple times.”
Jacqueline furrowed her brows at the very thought of Kimmy being so paralyzed by something as little a flashback.
“How do you get it to stop?”
“Well,” Titus began again, looking around the foyer of the townhouse, “do you have any Velcro?”
“Velcro? Who do you think I am? I have money.” Jacqueline seemed genuinely offended, which confused Titus. Who got that offended by Velcro?
“She hates Velcro. It'll definitely get her out of whatever is going on in her brain right now. But where can we get some Velcro since you're apparently too rich to own any?” Titus tapped his chin in deep thought until a light bulb went off. He crouched down to the Queen Elsa suitcase that laid on the floor.
“God, help me!” he exclaimed as a popping sound resonated from his knees. It had been twenty-something years since he blew his knees out playing football in high school and he was still feeling the repercussions of not visiting the school’s overly flamboyant, yet somehow verystraight physical therapist.
After recovering from five seconds of personal hell, Titus unzipped his suitcase and rummaged through his belongings until he found his fanny pack.
“A fanny pack? Really? It looks like taped together used toilet paper.”
“I'm sorry I don't have enough money or estrogen to own the designer bags you do and get away with it!” Titus scoffed as he stood up. He was proud of his fanny pack, even if it was used toilet paper. He made it himself.
“What are you going to do with that? Hold it under her nose until she snaps out of it?” Jacqueline was outsassing Titus and he did not appreciate it.
“I do not need your sass right now, woman,” Titus immediately retorted. There wasn't anything that angered Titus more than people being sassier than him. “The buckle broke on the back a few years ago so I had to glue some Velcro to the ends.” Titus failed to mention that the Velcro he used was so old that the back of the fabric was no longer adhesive by the time he went to use it, but he felt it wasn't the place or time to make himself sound as broke as he really was.
Titus stuck the ends of the strap together in front of Kimmy's face, taking a few seconds to mentally prepare himself for the outburst that was about to happen.
Jacqueline rested her hand on her hip, restlessly tapping her fingers on the hem of her brand new Balmain skinny jeans. She'd seen strangers pass out from hot yoga and a couple people die for a few minutes, but nothing she had witnessed had been this boring or complicated.
“Brace yourself, Jackie O.” Titus warned Jacqueline, tightening his grip on the straps of his fanny pack.
“For what?” Jacqueline really had no idea about what was going to happen.
Instead of telling her, Titus decided to show Jacqueline. Revenge for trying to outsass the 2012 Miss Lower East Side Sassmaster, of course. Titus winced as he pulled the pieces of fabric apart like a bandage off of a newly healed wound.
“What am I –“ Before Jacqueline could finish asking what exactly she was bracing herself for, Kimmy started screaming.
“I don't like that! Get it away!” Kimmy shrieked, flailing her arms in Titus's direction. Her flashbacks of the bunker were so bad sometimes (like right then), she didn't have control of whatever erratic moves her body made after snapping out of it.
“Kimmy, calm down.” Titus grabbed onto Kimmy's forearms as she started throwing punches into what seemed to be every direction possible. “Kimmy, it's okay. There's no more Velcro.” As soon as the words left Titus's mouth, he tossed the makeshift fanny pack behind him. “No more Velcro.”
“No more Velcro,” Kimmy repeated, pulling her arms out of Titus's grip and covering her face. “No more Velcro.”
“You okay, girl?” Titus asked, patting Kimmy on the shoulder. He had experienced Kimmy's post-bunker flashback outbursts many times since she moved into his apartment, but they still scared him. The predictability of the reactions and consequences of being in the vicinity of Kimmy's arms didn't make them any less terrifying.
“I'm great, everything is great. Let's go!” Kimmy exclaimed as she uncovered her face, clapping and jumping up and down. The excitement quickly returned, making Kimmy completely forget the memories that had just paralyzed her.
“Wh-wh-what?” Jacqueline murmured from behind Titus, completely dumbfounded. Very rarely was Jacqueline Voorhees left without words, but she had never seen someone bounce back from anything so weird that quick. Dr. Franff falling before Jacqueline's toenail reshaping and dislocating three-fourths of his face couldn't even touch what she had just witnessed.
“You heard the girl,” Titus began, strutting through the foyer of the townhouse to retrieve his fanny pack and suitcase, “let's go!”
Jacqueline attempted to form words as she watched Titus and Kimmy walk out the door, but was still left completely speechless.
What the hell just happened? What was she getting herself into?