Murder City

Chapter Eighteen

18 | Aurora Bennett

Shopping with Nathan is easier said than done. 

He picks a red sequined dress from the rack, dangling it over his slim body, looking into my eyes with an exaugurated look across his face, "Whadya' think? Is this too camp?" He smirks. I hit him in the ribs, and he groans. "Stop pissing about." I walk past him, picking a simple blue dress off a different rack. It droops down to my ankles, the front is cut low and there is a flower pinned to the left side of the faux belt. 

Its perfect.

I take it to the counter, not caring of what Nathan does behind me, as I am not his mother. I refuse to give up my dignity to babysit him. The girl stood behind the register takes my dress. She scans it, folds it, and places it into a white paper bag. I pass her the money Billie gave me. She smiles. She gives me my receipt, I take it and fold it into my pocket.

Nathan and I walk side by side down the sidewalk. I look at the trees and wonder if the world will one day truly be swallowed up by the sun. I don't believe that. I do believe that the earth will one day be destroyed by another asteroid, and history will repeat itself once more, humans being the dinosaurs this time, with only a few standing. I wonder why we do this, when one day all of this will be a memory. It doesn't feel real.

I'm crazy.

I think these irrational thoughts often, and the smaller part of my mind tries to stomp them away. It doesn't work. But it will eventually. 

"So." Nathan pauses, chewing on a piece of gum he found deep in his pocket. "Are you and Billie gonna get married or something? Have a kid?" He asks me so casually, and I wonder how he can even say such words whilst barely thinking. "Maybe." I want to marry someone one day, but I don't want to get married anytime soon. I have things to do before then.

"A kid? Definitely." I dream of quiet nights, the only sound being Billie's humming and shushing, as he soothes our daughter. We'll have a daughter, I know we will. We'll call her Ariana because its the name I dreamed of having as a child. 

Ariana. My daughter.

The trees sway in the wind, and the breeze picks up slightly. I feel the cooled air rushing against my goosebumps. I really want a daughter. I want to live in a small home, so me and her could be close. I would never abandon her the way my mother abandoned me. I could never. I believe what my mother did is a crime. A sin. Something even the most forgiving man could never even comprehend. 

I haven't been the same since I visited Fletcher yesterday. 

I've been thinking about my own death, along with the death of those I love, the death of the universe. None of it feels real. What purpose did we serve? Will we be remembered? Does it matter if we're remembered?

I wanted to be an author as a child. I wanted to write stories of love. 

I have experience now, I could do it. 

Opening the door to my home, I wave Nathan goodbye as we part ways. I walk into the kitchen and wrap my arms around Billie's back, he's making a sandwich. He chews on the bread, before turning his head to me, smiling. "Theres my girl." I let go so he can turn around and wrap me in a hug. He kisses the top of my head with ease as I inhale his scent. It's woody and perfect, as always. "I missed you." He says, and I swim in the feeling of being missed.

I wonder if my mother misses me.

Billie knows theres something wrong. But I don't tell him my concerns. I keep my sentences short and snappy. I want to hide away from this earth. Everything has been all too much for me, and I can't keep up with living anymore. I wish heaven was a vacation, so I could go there, relax, then come back.

I want to go on vacation as just my body, not my mind.

I walk upstairs without answering Billie's questions. I don't hear them. I hear nothing. I walk into our bedroom and I slip into our bed. I wrap myself in our blanket and I cry. I cry until all that comes out is muted screams. I don't know what I'm crying about. I don't know who I'm crying for. But I cry anyways.

I hear Billie slowly open our bedroom door, I feel like a little girl again, crying over something meaningless and silly. My father would walk in, trying to crack a joke. I wouldn't laugh. He'd slowly come over and sit at the foot of my bed. His hand would rest on top of my body, and I'd feel better. When I'd stop crying, I'd unravel myself from the sheets. He'd smile and hug me. I'd feel safe.

Billie walks over, he sits at the foot of the bed, his hand rests on my body. I don't move. I beg him to stay with me. I beg him to stay in this moment. I don't say anything, but I know he can hear me nonetheless. 

Neither of us move.