Surviving The Blues

36

"New information has come out on that shooting back in July of last year..."

*Click* channel changes.

"...demand an reopen of..."

*Click* channel changes.

"That does not give them the right to attack a police..."

*Click* channel changes.

"Yes, John. Sources said the other anonymous victim was rushed to the hospital with a concussion and a open head wound. She suffered several gunshot wounds and was expected to die that night..."

*Click* channel changes.

"They attempted to kill all of them. They weren't afraid for their lives..."

*Click* channel changes.

"You see, when you categorize black boys and girls as adults, this is what you are left with, lies and tie dead kids. These officers were wrong and we all know it." The lady says. "See, this is where you are wrong Angela. Those officers had a right to fear for their lives. Two very huge guys attacked them. I am sure you would have done..."

*Tv switches off*

"I was watching that," I murmur, weakly.

"Honey, you have to eat."

"Eat?" My eyes lazily land on her. "I learned that I had a serious concussion and that my memory of that night might be more messed up..." I fade off. "Did I make up him being in love with me because of a stupid concussion? Is this fake like all the times I remembered the shooting? Why am I still alive when I should be dead?"

"Come here, my baby," my mother quickly plops herself next to me on the couch, enclosing her arms around me and burying my head in her chest.

I've cried more in the past few months than I have in my whole life. Even when it was fresh, I hardly shed a tear, but now, it's different. For once, I am being encouraged to cry and not to toughen up love bug. She smooths her hands over my back, trying to calm my trembling.

I can hear her lips moving as she mouths something. Seconds later, the couch dips next to me and I am being shifted from person to person. It's the fourth day he's been over since it all began to unfold. Every day, a new piece of information unfolds. The school has ultimately become a thing of less importance.

"It's all my fault." I heave. "I should have died instead."

"Sh." He says into my hair, gently rocking me. "It isn't your fault, Journer." He says. "You the victim, not the perpetrator."

Victim is another word my father would never use. It's like a parent telling their child not to curse, but they do it anyway. Between comforting me and rapid change, it's almost like he's changing before my eyes.

Another three hours go by and I sit cuddled up next to him, his arm draped across me as we all watch a movie. My mother's version of movie snacks isn't as bad as we joked. Her stoved made popcorn did actually taste better. The selection of fruits were bearable. No one got into a fight or said anything offensive for the next few hours. The sounds of laughter and the occasional sniffle or eating sound were the only sounds that filled the room along with the movies.

"It would be better if you stayed the night." My mother says as my father begins to get ready to leave.

"We not on that." He says.

"Curfew is in ten minutes and you live how far?" She asks, with raised brows.

The protest happening over the last four days caused the mayor to declare a city wide curfew of 9pm to 5am. The looting, store break-ins, and clashes with police caused a city-wide shutdown. It's not a normal New York City occurrence considering we are the city that never sleeps. However, it happened.

"He's about that life, "I say in a weak imitation from the couch.

"Yo, she's mad rude. What you did do to her?" He asks my mom.

"Everything opposite of what you did." And just like that, they begin to fight.

Before they know it, the amber alert goes off on our phones. "Guess who's staying?" I say. "Goodnight," I mumble, dragging myself to my room and closing it. I don't give them time to respond.

I plop myself on the bed. I pick up my phone from the nightstand, responding to Riley's nightly check-in. She is mad at me for spilling the beans to Noah, but still checks in anyway. What I assumed was obvious wasn't obvious in her eyes. Apparently, it isn't polite to tell someone's crush that they like them. Plus, she was upset that I told him after he told me he liked me. She had already called it.

The moment I send the text, a call comes in. It's the person I've been ignoring who insists on still trying. Not giving them consent to call me, I attempt to swipe the call away. To my dismay, I answer the call.

. "Are you okay?" He asks immediately.

I sigh. "I am fine, goodbye." I raise my finger to cut off the call.

"Wait, wait, wait." He says quickly.

I take a deep breath. "What?"

"I am sorry," he says. " I Shouldn't have said what I said. I just need to know you're okay. Don't shut me out."

"Did you or did you not start liking me because of Noah?" I ask.

"What?" He seems taken back.

"Like you did with Hallie. You only liked her because Noah liked her first."

"What? Who even told you that?" It is apparently a known thing Hallie and Noah were supposed to be together first. Somehow, it didn't turn out that way.

"Is it not true?"

He sigh. "Will it make a difference? You've already made up your mind." He sounds almost defeated. "I'm glad you are doing okay." The line goes dead.

There's a faint increase in the pain in my chest already there. However, I refuse to believe it has anything to do with him. I can't help but try and fall asleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, my dreams come back. They had been gone for a while now. The sound of drums beating to some cultural beat, a series of animals, and bloody faces. It isn't a clear specific dream, but I always jumped up, afraid of that night.

My feet hit the floor and instinctually, I stumble toward her room like a young child. I had done it two weeks straight after I moved in. It's probably why our bond grew the way it did and there was an unspoken word of forgiveness despite never really talking about it.

Rubbing my eyes, I open the door without knocking. It's a big mistake. "Shit," I hear along with a stream of curses.