Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
"Megan?"
"Hm?"
"You awake?"
My groggy body haphazardly rolls over on its side, as I don't bother to open my eyes. "I am now."
The restless night of sleep I'd gotten has been dragging out my rest a lot longer than that of Carl's. Something of a hot sweat is what kept me subtly thrashing about, during the night. As for Carl, I can't seem to remember how long ago he'd gotten up to grab the pen and paper that he's been quietly scribbling on.
"Sorry." The boy chuckles. "I just—I have a question."
I tilt my head backward, looking up to Carl. The boy remains upside down in my vision, a result of my pillow being his very own outstretched leg, and my bedding being the familiar floor we'd shared together once before. This morning's greetings also being the result of last night's rendezvous for old time's sake.
My upward gaze, from his lap, groggily anticipates the question at hand.
"It's kind of," Carl meets my gaze, tearing his focus away from the pen in his hand and the notebook balancing on his other knee. "Weird."
I allow my eyes to flutter closed, as I release a sigh. "How weird can it be, considering we just slept togeth—"
"How do you spell your name?" The boy's words flow out, amidst his heavy sigh.
My eyes open, staring straight at the boy's nonchalant expression, leading me to believe that his question is not his idea of a joke. "What?"
"Is there an H somewhere in there? Or is it j—"
"Wait," A sharp chuckle leaves from between my lips. "You're being serious?"
Carl says nothing, but emits a shy nod as he looks down at me.
"Didn't you see my name when you read my file?"
"That was before," The boy hesitates, motioning to the bandage that lies across the jagged surface of his missing eye, with his ink pen in-hand. "Before—you know. There's still so many small things that I can't seem to remember. No matter how hard I try."
A small amount of unexpected guilt washes through me, the same feeling I'd felt every single day, during Carl's long recovery. I'd somehow forgotten how it tore me apart to avoid the boy for such a time. A time where he needed me most and I willingly—repeatedly failed to be there for him.
In my moment of remorseful silence, my gaze has found itself locked on Carl's remaining blue iris. He, as well, stares down at me, a sympathetic look on his face as he didn't intend to speak on such a heavy topic. But it was my oblivious joking that pulled the hint of darkness out of him.
