Emily sat on my bed, shaking her head. “Sensible people die alone, Ara—like my gran and my Aunt Betty. My dad says if you don't fight for love, you have nothing to fight for.”
Despite numerous arguments I could squash that statement with, I decided to sever the conversation instead. “I’ll keep that in mind. Shall we watch that movie now?”
The quiet hum of restful breathing filled my room under the howling of the wind outside. I laid awake, wishing I could put my bedside light on to illuminate the dark, scary corners of my room. I hugged my copy of Wuthering Heights and internally sent despise in waves of anger to the mattress on the floor. I should’ve told Emily I hate scary movies.
My phone lit the roof green for a second; I flipped over and reached across the gap between my bed and nightstand, cautiously, in case The Bogeyman reached up to grab my hand, then tucked my arms back in quickly with my phone in hand. The message on the screen read: Call me if you need me.
I smiled and texted back: Thanks, David.
But, it wasn’t him I wanted to call.
The green glow remained on my face and hands, and Emily stirred as the keypad bleeped when I pinned in the digits of a familiar number. I knew I should call my boyfriend, but in the darkness, surrounded by the fear of a storm outside, all I wanted was to hear the homeliness of Mike’s familiar voice. And with the mere buzzing of the ringtone down the line, the eerie feeling of isolation slipped away a little. Pick up. Come on, Mike. Please, pick up.
“Hey, beautiful. What’s up?” he asked, bringing me home with the sound of his voice.
“Hey, Mike,” I whispered.
“What happened?” he asked quickly. “Are you okay, Ara?”
“Sleepover,” I said. “Watched a horror movie.”
“Oh, baby girl. Why do you do it? What movie was it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m never sleeping again.”
“You will—you always do eventually.”
“Not for a few weeks, though.”
Mike laughed. “It’ll be all right. I’ll be there in a few days, then I’ll sleep by your wardrobe and keep the monsters from coming out to get you.”
I chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Ha, yeah, I remember that night. How old were you then?”
“Um, fourteen, I think.”
“Well, I’m sending a hug through the phone for ya, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered, actually feeling a little better with that thought.
“Hey, I was thinking ‘bout you before you called. You must’ve read my mind.”
“What were you thinking about this time—me in a blender or something?”
“Ara, I don’t only reflect on memories of you in pain.”
“Hm. Seems like you do.”
“It was one memory. Once.”
“Two.”
“No. It was only the ice cream truck one.”
“And the other one.”
“Which one?”
I couldn’t think of one, realising then that I was wrong. “So, now you expect me to document every conversation we have.”
“Ara, what is wrong with you tonight?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?”
“You’re doing your thing.”
“My thing?”
“Yeah, when you twist my words around until we get in a fight. Don’t do that. I’m not trying to fight with you, baby. I was just…I wanted to call you…I was thinking about you—then you called. It surprised me, that’s all.”
“You should be used to it.”
He paused. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been that in tune with each other, Ar.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He paused again.
“Mike?”
Emily rolled over and stirred with the disruption of my voice through the perfect silence.
“I’m still here, Ara. I just…I need a few seconds, okay?”
“Okay. I’m just moving into the spare room.” I walked into the hall, my toes balancing over the quiet spots in the floorboards that I’d memorised.
“Is that the room I’ll be staying in?”
“Yep.” I grinned and leaped through the dark, landing on his bed. “I’m sitting on your bed.”
“Maybe you can keep it warm ‘til I get there.”
“Yeah, sure, I’m gonna stay in bed for the next few days,” I said sarcastically.
He paused again, then, after a long breath through what sounded like his nose, asked, “So, how are things with the boyfriend?”
“Not so good.” I winced; how was the truth so automatic with Mike? “We’ve kind of decided to break up after the autumn ball.” I think.
“What? Oh, baby girl. I’m sorry. Why? I mean, why would you do that? I thought you guys were a sure thing?” Mike’s sympathetic tone brought my tears out from hiding.
“I don't want to, Mike. But he. He has a. Kind. Of. Problem.” I sniffled before the sobs came breaking through.
“What is it, baby? You can tell me.”
“I know, Mike, but—” I could feel Mike in the room with me, the way he’d normally hang up the phone, right about now, and no more than two minutes later be knocking on my window. But that wasn’t possible anymore, and after he left here and headed back home in two weeks, it’d never be possible again. “I—he has a secret and I have to keep it,” I said, sniffling. “I want to tell you. But I can’t.”
“Ara, baby, you know damn well if there’s a secret someone says you shouldn’t tell, you absolutely shou—”
“It’s not like that, Mike. Okay?” I took a moment to compose myself. “Anyway, none of it matters. He has to leave, and after the last leaf of autumn turns red and falls from the last tree, he’ll be gone.”
“What?” Mike scoffed. “What the hell is that? Some fairytale timeline, bull crap? Leaves turning red? Ara! Did he hurt you?”
“No, Mike. He didn’t hurt me. I mean, not physically. I’m hurting inside, like I always do, but it isn’t his fault. It’s my decision that caused it.”
“Wait. What? Your decision? Ara. If he hurt you, I swear to God, I’ll—”
“No, Mike, he never hurt me, okay? He asked me to come with him. To go away with him.”
A moment of silence passed. “Where?”