Page 22 of His Atonement
Too bad I feel like I'm a hundred years old when I wake up.
Slowly, I pad my way to the bathroom, the wood floor of the hall nice and cool on my bare feet. I thought for sure my cabin would be a thousand degrees since there's no air conditioning and it's fucking August, but it's not that bad.
Must be the fact that it's nestled amongst a shit ton of trees and totally shaded.
Probably helps that I'm buck naked too.
Once I pee about forty gallons of fluid, I grab my small suitcase full of toiletries, set them up on the counter, in the shower, add my makeup and vitamins to the medicine cabinet then open the cupboard in search of towels.
Nonexistent towels because all I can find are washcloths. Tons and tons of washcloths.
All of which have, you guessed it, Nic Cage's face on them but it's that scene from The Wicker Man, you know the one; 'Oh no! Not the bees! Not the bees!' Yeah the psychotic, distraught face he makes during that part is stamped all over the washcloths.
Allie must have lost her damn mind.
But I just laugh really hard, open the medicine cabinet, and set up my phone to start recording.
"This is Francis Mae Masters, today is August 9th, and it is about eleven thirty five in the morning. It's officially my first day in Ashland, Oregon. Allie, Andrej, and I got into town just before three in the morning and by the time I collapsed into bed, it was after four. No real symptoms on my eleven and a half hour ride, maybe a little stiffness but it wasn't too bad. Thankfully my bike still helps me keep a clear head and my rituals don't seem to apply while I ride, which is good because we never would have gotten here if I had to stop every time I drove over a crack in the pavement.” I giggle as I grab a hair tie with my tattooed fingers.
"I won't be showering this morning, but not for my normal reasons. I slept too late and haven't eaten in almost two days, so Allie made sure to wake me up to get lunch, but I'm skipping the shower because I don't have any towels, just a fuck ton of washcloths that look like this...” I hold up Nic Cage and laugh. "I guess my cousin was feeling a little feisty—or a lot crazy—when she shopped for me because all of my new linens have Mr. Cage on them, but I'm surprisingly ok with it. It's funny as hell and Allie, if you're watching this at some point, thanks a lot. Needless to say I'm foregoing a shower until I can head into town to buy towels because my sweet NC washcloths won't do much in terms of drying my body, and they sure as shit won't do anything to help this." I point to the mass of kinky red curls on my head before I start winding them into a topknot.
"When I woke up this morning I experienced both chorea and dystonia, my legs super rigid while my arms jerked one set of three. I also couldn’t call Allie back after I missed her because of my OCD, but so far that's the only sign of that bastard this morning." Reaching forward, I grab my face wash, turn on the water, and start scrubbing my cheeks. "I smoked a fat bowl and after about ten minutes, my muscles started to relax, so that's good. I'm gonna try to unpack and get settled, maybe figure out what I need to get from town, order my darkroom equipment since I can get the dimensions firsthand. I may even try to start on my bucket list today, probably something little like going to the local bank and setting up the trust funds for Daisy and Lily.” I shrug. "Who knows, but one way or another I'm going to be productive. Lord knows I don't have the time to dick around. All in all it's not been a terrible… I don't want to saystartbecause if anything, this is the beginning of the end but regardless, it wasn't terrible.” I rinse my face and use good old Nic to dry it. "The day is still young though, so we'll see how it plays out. Catch ya on the flip."
I end the video, make sure to save it in my cloud so I can edit it later and post it to my video diary, the one that is private and won't be able to be accessed by anyone until I die—just like it says in my will.
I've had it for years now, pretty much since my symptoms started to pop up more frequently, and before that I had an online journal that I religiously wrote in. One day not so far off, when I'm gone, Allie will be able to read it, watch it if she wants to, but I'm really hoping she'll submit my stuff to some medical college or something so they can see the way my disease progressed from ages seventeen to most likely thirty six since I doubt I'll see my next birthday. I'm hoping it'll be helpful, help them find better ways to treat other people with the same diagnosis, maybe help them understand the way all the meds I tried can be both beneficial and harmful, see the therapeutic qualities weed provides for someone like me.
That's not why I originally started documenting my journey though. I more or less did it out of fear; fear of what I'm dealing with, fear of forgetting or being forgotten, but it's turned into a project of sorts and I hope that it not only can be used to help the ongoing research into my disease, but I also hope that when Allie finds out what killed me that she'll understand it wasn't all bad.
I hope she'll see the way I fought, the way I did everything I could to prolong the inevitable, how I didn't let it stop me from achieving my goals. And I really fucking hope that she uses my journey to teach her girls that us Masters women are strong, fucking fierce forces of nature and it doesn't matter what life throws at us because we'll still kick it in the ass.
Plus there's a ton of footage of Granny, and Allie will love that.
I finish up in the bathroom, my OCD making it a longer process than I wanted since I had to brush, floss, and rinse three times before it felt right, then hit my suitcase and throw on a tank top and some jean shorts, pack my weed, and head down the hall.
Allie was right about the cabin being small, but I fucking love it.
The living room, just like the rest of the house, is bare bones but it faces the mountain and has the most breathtaking view from both big bay windows on either side of the fireplace.
An island acts as a divider between the living room and the kitchen, which is open with a quaint little breakfast nook, but the appliances are new and there is the most badass coffee maker that will be seeing more action than I will, that's for damn sure.
My bedroom is almost as big as the living room—which isn't saying much—with a cool wardrobe built right into the wall next to a smaller fireplace and windows that face the forest.
The bathroom is tiny but it has an adorable vintage looking claw foot tub and shower, a basin sink and the linen closet is built into the wall just like the wardrobe.
I haven't looked at the spare room yet, but I plan to at some point and I'll have to anyway because that's where Andrej unloaded all my shit except my suitcases.
I adore my new home and having my cousin only a stone’s throw away for the first time in damn near twenty years is absolutely my favorite part.
Which is why I slip on some flip flops and haul ass out the door to meet her for lunch.
* * *
Man, this property is beautiful.
According to Allie, there's something like forty cabins on the grounds, a huge stable with horses, an archery and gun range, an Olympic size swimming pool, multiple hot tubs and a full gym, complete with a boxing ring. And she said the main house that they're building multiple additions to is basically an apartment building. A very swanky apartment building like the ones in New York or Paris.
Definitely not a bad place to spend the last few months of my life, no doubt about that.
