𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓 ✞𝑡𝑜𝑚 𝑘𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑧✞

part seventeen

The gas station closed at 9pm on a Wednesday. Because of this, Robyn lazily slumped over the cashier counter, her heavy head propped up on her fist. Outside, the vibrant signs illuminated the empty street, the only movement being that of a breeze of mosquitos and moths that repeatedly flew directly into the lights. She watched their perpetual struggle absent-mindedly.

Being small, the interior of the gas station had an almost green cast on it from the ancient lighting with the only sound being the constant hum of the refrigerators lining the walls. Still, Robyn appreciated the simplicity of her job and its constant stability within the small town community. She saw almost every person from town throughout the week, all of which attempted small talk or asked about her father from across the counter, making her remember the days in which he was the town's celebrity.

Since the fire with Bill and Tom, her dad had only called once across the two weeks; this being a small and superficial conversation about Moscow and how he had won some money gambling. In addition to her dad, Alicia had visited twice with her fiance Caleb to discuss their new house as well as visit Elliot in the hospital. The nurses said that it is just a waiting game at this stage and his motor skills just need to redevelop, before they could move forward. She was glad to have not seen Jay in the hospital as she could already interpret how he would react to the lack of answers the nurses could provide: 'he's a person, we can't just wait around forever!' 'isn't it your job to work this shit out' 'how do you not know? Do a test'.

It wasn't until his voice spoke once more that she realised he was now standing in front of te counter facing her, a six pack of beers and some rolling papers flung on the counter.

"Rob?" he repeated, causing her attention to shift from gazing out of the glass to his face. Beneath the green light, he looked pale and tired, his brows raised as he watched her from above. Wanting this moment to be over, Robyn half rolled her eyes up at him and began scanning the beer and papers.

"You not speaking to me or?" he questioned, elongating the 'or'.

She paused, looking up at him in boredom.

"€7.15" she spoke bluntly.

"Really? You're gonna act like this?" he sharply replied, outstretching his hands onto the rim of the counter and leaning down to speak to her. Unphased, she remained motionless awaiting his reply.

"I have nothing to say to you. I'm just doing my job" she defended sarcastically with a casual shrug. She new this would get a rise out of him.

"I've banged on your door like four times this week, you know that right? You can't just shut me out" he explained defiantly.

"I was probably sleeping" she shrugged once more, watching his face grow more agitated.

The truth was, Robyn had been taking Oxy everyday for these past two weeks and sleeping all throughout the day before waking and being bored shitless through the night. Some nights, she would write for hours at the window seat, describing various metaphorical interpretations of how she felt or how the people in her life made her feel. Other times, she would find Tom waiting for her on the roof right before he went to bed, a duo of cigarettes raised into the darkness to signal for her to come out. Sometimes they spoke of various things or people, but most of the time they sat in comfortable silence as a mutual routine before sleep.

They never spoke of what had happened after the fire, but it did shift their dynamic rapidly from strangers to somewhat friends. Not that it happened often, but Robyn's perspectives of sex and relationships were extremely different to most girls her age; it was casual and an entirely separate entity from feelings and emotion. Simply, a mechanical act to relieve her frustrations.