Myrafelt obligated to ask herself that dreaded question; was she surprised, REALLY?
The short answer was no, she was not.
"Come on,Myra," Reilly coaxed. "Let's do something fun. We can all go to that movie that you liked...". She pursed her lips. "If you want."
The longer answer; yes,Myrawas surprised. Of course, she'd gotten used to the isolation over the years, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.
Downstairs, through the thin strip of nothingness between the door and threshold, a bubble of laughter swelled and popped. A successful pun, she thought dryly, applause! Drones, that's what they were. Those slimy hairballs that her father called "work friends", her mother called "coworkers" and whatMyrapreferred to refer to them as-dimwits. "If I was down there, they would be roaring."
"It's not healthy to stay inside all day,Myra.". Reilly peered over her friend's shoulder and frowned, her lips going down at the corners. "And why are you looking up apartments?"
"You shouldn't ask obvious questions, Reilly," Aaron said. The three of them were like ghosts,Myramused, swooping in and out of the room. It took a little bit of effort to spin on the yoga ball. It was a bright pink, clashing with the cool blues and dark violet on the walls and bed covers. "I have plenty of money saved up you know. I barely have to do chores and then they hand me ten dollars at the end of the week. 52 weeks times two times ten is…” She took a moment to calculate, “…$1004 dollars.”
"Myra, that rents an apartment like this for not even two months," Stephen put in, looking as equally as disapproving as Reilly. Purposely trying to be dramatic,Myrastood, putting her hands behind her back, and walked toward the window, head held high. Observing the falling leaves, red, orange, yellow, and brown, she pursed her lips. She noted the last pale green leaf. The edges were beginning to become crunchy and wrinkled, but the veins were still as green as ever, pulsing with energy and life.
With only the warning of the click of heels on the stairs,Myra’s face lost all emotion. “Myra-” She ran to her laptop and slammed the screen down.
“Shut up, Aaron!”
The door swung open to revealMyra’s mother, wearing a crisp dress and high, pinchy heels. Mrs. Harrison was wearing too much makeup-it made her appear perfect. Too perfect forMyra’s taste. “Are you doing your homework?” her mother’s eyes slid over the room, looking for someone. For a moment, her gaze seemed to catch on Reilly, andMyrastiffened. Then it finally rested onMyra, who scowled in response. “Who were you talking to?” her mother asked, suspicion weaving its way into her voice.
Words sprang into Myra’s throat; angry words, with a ring of defiance. “My boyfriend. On the phone. Got a problem?”
“Excuse me?” her mother replied, Mrs. Harrison appeared surprised at her daughter’s open hostility.
But Myraheld her tongue. “I was talking to my friend, on the phone. Also, it’s Sunday and I finished my homework last night.” You asked me that question this morning, too, she thought bitterly. The exact same words, same tone. Accusing.
Her friends stood ver still-although they surely didn’t need to, Mrs. Harrison had never noticed them before-so they would not be noticed. It was out of habit, that little voice urging them to be still and quiet. If they broke the imaginary spell,Myrawould be exposed. She noticed. Reilly caught her eyes and ever so slightly shook her head no.Myrasighed heavily. “Your guests are waiting downstairs,” she mumbled, furiously trying to hold in her anger.
“Yes, and Myra, clean your room. It looks like a pigsty.” Instead of responding, Myraground her teeth and stared and the floor, biting back a scathing response. Maybe if you were a real mom who spoke to me about things more than once a week…maybe if you ACTUALLY said something nice instead of ordering me around constantly….If you actually cared.
When the footsteps had once again mingled with the hubbub downstairs, the silence continued. This time, however, there was an exceedingly pregnant pause, and although she did not speak them aloud,Myra’s thoughts were tangible. They knew one another too well to not know what the others were thinking.
“It was odd, you know,” she said lightly, “It was almost like she could see you, Reilly.”
