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October wasn't someone who made her bed. She didn't see the point and she didn't have the time. Why would she spend five minutes every morning - making the sheets all neat and crease free, fluffing pillows and arranging blankets - just to come home and ruin it again? Maisie always made her bed. Maybe it was something people did when they had their lives together. She did it sometimes to see if it would make her feel organised but she didn't think it improved her day at all.
What did improve her day was music.
She hit shuffle and Bob Dylan came on, she was going to skip it but then hesitated. She kept it on.
It had been a year since she ran into Elijah - five years and only one incident felt impressive. She had considered moving away once. Somewhere in England, she considered Scotland for a while. She was half joking, half serious. She wanted to eliminate the possibility of running into him but if there was one thing that she absolutely wouldn't do is run away.
Her family, her friends, her life was in Ireland - she wasn't going to give that up because of someone she had only known for a couple of months. Granted he was more than just 'someone' but home meant more than he did. She wouldn't let him ruin Bob Dylan for her either. A part of her hoped that she had ruined it for him, a petty part of her that she wasn't fond of.
The other forgiving side of her hoped that he listened to it and smiled - she preferred that side. She didn't know what to feel when she thought of Elijah now. It hurt and she was still angry, she was fine with that. She thinks that she deserved that. Then she'd think that she never said anything either, that maybe it was her fault, not his. She wouldn't feel angry then, she'd feel guilty.
Sometimes she wanted him to apologise to her, sometimes she was glad that he hadn't. She wouldn't be able to accept it, she would want to. She was very indecisive when it came to him, she couldn't decide on anything not even how she felt about him. There had been times that she even thought back on that time fondly, it only made things more confusing so she simply tried not to think about it often. She went on with life and ignored it - she didn't like things that she didn't understand, that she couldn't figure out.
Hearing his name still felt strange, she still had to hide the instinct to frown when she heard it, but it was something that she had come to terms with.
She didn't want anything from Elijah. She didn't want him to say sorry, she didn't need it. They happened and they ended. The book was closed and she no longer went back to re-read it. Thinking about him was a waste of time. It was only on occasion that she'd accidentally be reminded of that summer.
Always at night. It made sense that the moon reminded her of him - they'd meet at night and talk in the white glow of it's light. Then at some point, she looked at the night sky and just saw it for what it was. The stars were just stars, the sky was the sky - the moon was just the moon. Her life moved on, she moved on.
