𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

five - talk

•
julia.
•

july.

it's an emptiness so vast and consuming that i've long since resigned myself to it, knowing there's nothing i can do to change the inevitable. with a soft sigh that barely stirs the air around me, i pick up the small air hockey puck, the cold plastic smooth under my fingertips. claire's animated chatter fills the basement as we play, the clatter of the puck against the mallet punctuating our words, like we're fifteen again, lost in a world of gossip and giggles, trying to escape reality.

"i still think these business trips are just cover-ups for all her new tinder dates," i muse aloud, the words slipping out with a half-hearted laugh. but deep down, there's a kernel of truth that lingers, a thought that gnaws at the back of my mind, refusing to be dismissed entirely. the game continues, but my thoughts drift, the puck moving almost on autopilot, while claire's voice weaves through the thick fog of my unspoken fears.

i manage to pull a small chuckle from claire, a sound that's bright and warm, even in the dim light of the basement. she smacks the puck across the table with that familiar competitive gleam in her eyes, and i can't help but smile as we fall into the easy rhythm of the game "c'mon, don't think like that," she chides me, her voice laced with that unmistakable midwestern twang. she's always been the one to pull me back from the edge of my darker thoughts, a habit that has its own set of pros and cons. "y'all are earning this money somehow," she adds, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me momentarily forget about the game. her left hand rests confidently against the air hockey table, her stance casual although claire takes air hockey just as seriously as she does the skee ball machine and foosball right next to us. she's nothing if not competitive, and i've actually always admired that about her.

i chuckle at her remark, the sound tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation. deep down, i know that my mother isn't over my father, not by a long shot. the thought of coming home from college one day, only to find some random middle-aged man lounging on our couch beside my mother, is enough to make my skin crawl. hell. fucking. no. i'd rather disappear.

i click my tongue, my eyes drifting between the scuffed surface of the air hockey table and claire's focused expression. the conversation we had been dancing around finally falls silent, like a song fading out, leaving only the hum of the movie we neglected in the theater room and the sharp clack of the puck sliding across the table.

the weight of unspoken thoughts hangs in the air, so i decide to shift the mood, something lighter, something that doesn't press so heavily on the heart. "you said you got into northwestern, right?" i ask, my voice casual, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity, a need for confirmation in case i'm accidentally mistaken.

she sighs, her breath escaping in a soft exhale, but there's a smile that follows, a small, almost shy curve of her lips that lights up her face as she glances up at me. her hand moves with quick precision, sending the puck hurtling back in my direction. "yeah, yeah," she replies, her words carrying a mix of pride and apprehension. "just a 'lil nervous," she adds, her smile turning sheepish, like she's admitting to a secret she hoped to keep hidden.

i furrow my brows, genuine confusion etching into my features as i try to understand. "why? you've got me to guide you," i say, my tone gentle, laced with a comfort that i hope she can feel—like a warm blanket on a cold night. i offer her a reassuring smile, trying to bridge the gap between her anxiety and the excitement that should be filling this moment.

she shook her head, a subtle gesture that sent her dark hair swaying just slightly as she shrugged, her eyes locked on the blue puck sliding across the table. i flick it over to her side, watching as her reaction is instant, her hand darting out to send it rocketing back toward me. there's a sharpness in her movements, a focus that contrasts with the hesitancy in her voice when she finally speaks.