𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

Chapter Four: Missing The Moments

"I wish it could be me, but I won't make it out this bed, I hope I go to Heaven, so I see you once again" 

-Death Bed by Powfu

I arrived back in my apartment at supper time.

"Hey Abby! How was exploring New York City?" My mom asked enthusiastically. I smiled and slipped my shoes off.

"It was fun! I saw the Statue of Liberty and went on a walk in the park." I told her as I sat down on the stool. "Is dinner ready?" I asked.

"Yup! Spaghetti and meatballs," My mom answered.

"Yum!" I said as I sat up straight and smiled at her. She sat beside me and placed two plates of spaghetti in front of us. The tomato sauce poured down the clean white plate. The smell of the steaming hot spaghetti reminded me of back when Charlie was still alive.

I remember that moment crisp and clear, unlike my other memories of him, which all seem kind of fuzzy. I was seven years old at the time, and Charlie was fourteen. Both my parents were off at work and me and him were home alone. It was supper time, and neither of us knew what to eat, since we didn't really have any cooking experience. I suggested we ate the halloween candy I still had from the year before. My brother shook his head and told me I should know better, and that candy was not dinner food. While we looked through the pantry, trying to find something, anything to eat, my brother looked up and found a bag of noodles sitting on the top shelf. He went on his tippy toes and snached it. He placed it on the counter and grabbed a pot too. He turned on the tap and filled it up with water.

"Are you gonna help or what?" My brother asked, smiling.

"Are we making spahetti?" I asked as I watched him.

"Spaghetti, not "spahetti" and yes, we are." My brother answered. I giggled and grabbed the tomato sauce from the fridge. He boiled the water and I put the spaghetti in. Charlie turned down the temperature as bubbles began to splash. The steam quickly wisped away. He smiled and poured the water out, took out two bowls from the drawers, and placed them on the counter. He served me and himself, and I poured the sauce over it. He smiled as I slurped the noodles. I remember how much I looked up to him at the time...

"Abby?" My mom said as she tapped my shoulder. I snapped out of shock, and quickly turned to her.

"Oh uh sorry," I sighed and picked up my fork. "I just got lost in my thoughts again"

After dinner, the only thing I could think of was the mystery boy from the park. I still remember vividly his dark brown eyes that almost look black; and his wavy hair that looks as dusty black as the feathers on a crow. I just couldn't, no matter what I did, I couldn't stop thinking about the way his eyes met mine as he told me about the bookstore across the street. Every moment I lay on my bed, trying to close my heavy eyes, an image of him would appear in my head, faint but visible, a dream I can't quite remember. His voice stabs my ears like a cry of a bird that sings at midnight as the moon watches from afar. I can't stop remembering the way his hair moved to the side as the breeze ran through it, revealing his eyes as the shone in the sun. It confuses me, you know, guys. They say that women are the confusing ones, but guys on the other hand, are the most complex, incomprehensible species on the planet. Maybe, "The mystery boy" was trying to flirt with me, or something. Or maybe he just hates me. Actually, yeah, that's probably right. He hates me, after we just met, because I was spying on him.

I went to bed that night feeling something I had never felt before. It felt as though someone was tugging at my hair, whispering me words I couldn't understand. I could hear them mumble it in my ear over and over. The words gave me a feeling of discomfort, as if there was something I was forgetting, something I needed to remember. I would be so close to knowing the words that they said, so close I could almost taste it on the end of my tongue, until a blurry image would appear in my head and the words were lost. I sighed and hid in my covers. The door of the room suddenly opened, I hissed as the kitchen light burned my eyes. My mom walked through the door, and walked over to me. I sat up. "What?" I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes. She didn't reply, and quietly wisped over onto my bed. The tips of her fingers gently touched my cheeks. "What do you want?" I complained. She smiled and touched her lips against my forehead.

"Good night," She beams as she gets up and steps over to her bed. Suddenly, the voice that tugs on my hair stops. I smile and look over to her.

"I love you mom" I tell as I lay my head on my pillow.