When The Time Comes

chapter 5; Lib

Tonight I get up to dance. They're playing early 2000 music that vibrates in the walls and through the floor. My hair is purple and then it is green. I twirl, feeling light on my feet. It's some time past eight o'clock and the bar is busy. I haven't had a drink yet but I find the prospect of dying loosens me up more than alcohol could. The tips of my toes press into the front of my boots as I try to get taller, watching the DJ behind the table. When circus by Britney ends, the crowd cheers and disperses slightly.

    It's then that I take a chance to look around myself. I can feel sweat in my pits so I put my hands on my hips, trying to air them out through my jacket. While I stand still, the lights keep moving and I look to the bar where it reflects the top. My chest rises and falls, gathering air.

I catch the gaze of a couple of strangers which is difficult to avoid when you're out alone. The music starts to pick up a beat so I twirl back around, breaking eye contact with a blonde on one of the bar stools. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious. I have no plan for tonight. Or for the rest of my days either. I want to keep dancing until I drop dead just so that I won't think too deeply about it. I don't want to think about mom or Sadie or the piss scented couches. Maybe, I do need a drink.

    "Grace4321?" someone says from next to me.

I look at a face, one that I've never seen before. He's the only one not dancing and I slowly come to a stop, too. Before I can ask, he goes on.

"I'm Ben and I read your reddit comment," he shrugs slightly. "I'll be dying in two weeks. Nice to meet you."

My mouth, I realize is partially open which then turns into a semi-smile. I stick my hand out at him, "Nice to meet you. I wasn't expecting anyone to show up."

"No-one else showed?" his thin eyebrow becomes crooked.

  "How did you know who I was?"

"Your profile picture," he says it like its obvious.

"It's an old picture."

"You still look the same, sort of," he says and looks around. A couple of people bump into us so that we're awkwardly just standing in a crowd.

   "You want a drink?" Ben asks, the strobe making his green eyes look wild.

"Are you buying?" I ask. I don't know where all this confidence is coming from but I also don't care. My confidence is a little questionable but a voice in my head keeps whispering, so what if you are. And it's been a long time since I've felt this free.

  He looks thoughtful for a moment but nods. "Sure."

We sit at the bar and order a cosmos for me and a vodka cranberry for him. While we wait, he looks up at the flat screen behind the bartenders where the soccer world cup match between Argentina and Australia plays. I study his side profile briefly before he turns and looks at me, his lips pursed in thought and eyes slightly tired. He's quite lean and pale and I can't pin an age on him. I feel like he could be twenty six and sixteen at the same time.

  "When did you get your letter?" he asks, rubbing his fingers.

"This morning."

"I got mine around two weeks ago."

  "How much time do you have left?"

The bartender leaves us our drinks and we both mumble a low thanks his way before Ben answers. "Two weeks and three days."

"Shit."

He straightens up, "Well, how many do you have then?"

"Two days less than you."