Over the Edge

Ch.34-April Showers Bring . . . Surprises?

So much damn rain. That was the only real consistent thing when spring rolled around.

Well, that and the fact that Emma remained in her state of perpetual slumber.

I kept thinking she would wake up, that she couldn’t possibly stay in a coma for so long. I thought I would visit her one day and find her smiling and laughing and requesting fast food fries be brought to her immediately. But that wasn’t the case. And with reality my hope dwindled. Every time I went to see her, she was the same; immobile, drugged up, and comatose.

She wasn’t forgotten at school, either. Her state of unresponsiveness put me in a mood that was, three times out of four, quite foul. And altogether unapproachable. And yet people still felt the need to approach me and apologize for my loss—as if I had lost something. I hadn’t. She was still here. I wished they would realize that and quit making assumptions.

My father spoke with me about putting Mike on trial for what he did, and that was great. The bastard should never see the light of day again. And yet I felt like something was missing. I encouraged my father to talk Emma’s parents into post-poning any hearing. She deserved him to go down for what he did when she was fifteen. No matter how long it took for that to happen, Emma would forever feel robbed if it didn’t.

But even though majority of my life was at a standstill, waiting for that girl to wake up, there was still a portion of it under my control. My future. Something I actually had a rough idea about for once. It was something I was considering for the first time in my life, which was why I found myself clutching my painting covered in a black trash bag as shabby protection from the pouring rain that never seemed to end. I waited until the very last day to send it in, but Miss Delilah had agreed to meet me in town so I could give it to her. I was waiting underneath the canopy of some local coffee shop, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the eccentric woman to show up.

“Ah, you showed up! How delightful!”

The voice appeared suddenly at my side. I whirled around, unnerved. The teachers at Heart High School were frightening.

“Is that the painting?” she asked eagerly, eyes bright with anticipation.

“Yep,” I answered, fighting hard to bite back the retort of sarcasm I wanted to spout out.

She clapped her hands together. “Do you mind if I see it? Want to go inside? I’ll buy the coffee.”

I shrugged. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do that day, besides visit my comatose partner. “Sure.”

She was like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing into the shop. I followed her with a subtle eye roll, choosing a seat off to the side. Miss Delilah ordered our drinks and floated through the people to find me, seating herself in the booth opposite.

“I’m so glad you decided to take me up on this offer,” she stated. “I think you have a great chance at winning, and I haven’t even seen any of your work yet!”

She was so chipper. It actually dampened my mood, what with her sucking the energy from every living being in the room to supply herself. “Well, here it is.”

“I know.” She wiggled her fingers. “Do you mind?”

I shrugged.

Carefully she removed the bag. I put the painting in a sleeve to protect it from harm. It was, without a doubt, the best painting I had ever done in my life. When it was fully removed she held it in front of her, saying nothing. Her eyes gazed over it soundlessly.

I frowned. Did she not like it?

“Rhys . . .” she whispered.

“It was the best I could do,” I grumbled. “Sorry if—”