No Regrets {#Wattys2016}

~Day 13~

Song~ Wild Things by Alessia Cara

***

  "How could they do that?" I exclaim at no one in particular.

  "Sometimes marriages don't work." Mason shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe it's for the best. Would you really want your parents to keep fighting discreetly or would you rather them be separated and happy?" Mason says comfortingly while keeping his eyes on the road. I look out the window exasperatedly. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange because it was late evening, almost sunset. I shift in my seat at the truth behind his words.

  I have spent the majority of the car ride explaining the not-so-pleasant conversation my parents and I had the other day and about their plans. It's late evening as we travel down the dirt roads to the drive-in theatre.

  "Yeah, I guess, but I still think they should have told Lydia and Ainsley. Now I have to keep it from them which can possibly blow up in my face." I sigh.

  "Honestly, I would have preferred my parents divorce than stay together. By staying together, it was a lot worse at home. They fought and it hurt both of them. At least if they're separated, they'll be happy," Mason tells me.

  "I wish you told me what I wanted to hear instead of what I needed. It would make me a lot happier," I grumble irritably.

  I know he's right. I can't be selfish. It isn't about me or Lydia or Ainsley, even though it affects us. This is about them and what they think is best. Maybe they are better off separated, who knows. What I do know is, I don't like it. Not at all.

  "I know," he chuckles. "Just try not to think about it tonight. It's making you angry to the point where I don't know if I'm safe being in the same vehicle as you."

  Reluctantly, I grin, "You say that like your safe even when I'm calm."

  "That's reassuring," he chuckles.

  I roll my eyes and stare out the window as we pull into the drive-in theatre. We pay for our tickets seperately, to my satisfaction, and drive into the field. Mason parks the truck so the back is facing the colossal screen. We change the radio to the frequency broadcasting the movie audio before hopping out.

  "Come here," Mason instructs. We go to the back where he opens the hatch. There lays a mattress secured down by ropes. Mason is carrying several thick blankets and a pillow.

  "Here, you set up the bed while I buy the snacks," he orders.

  "Will do." I salute.

  He disappears and I neatly place down the pillow and blankets. The movie, Mike & Dave Need Wedding Dates, starts just as Mason returns with the snacks. We climb into the bed and lay together side by side.

  Halfway into the movie, my eyes start to feel heavy.

  "Viv?" I hear a gentle voice call me out of my daze.

  "Hmm?"

  "Are you scared of dying?" I feel his hands play with the locks of my dirty blonde hair. 

  "A little," I mutter honestly.

  It's not like this is the first time the prospect of death has come to my mind. It's always been there. It's like that one great aunt nobody likes. You don't want it there, but it still makes itself announced every once in a while.

  Ever since I knew I was a walking, talking countdown, the idea of death loomed over me. Just nobody ever asked me if I'm scared of it.

  "Good, the fear of death is what keeps us alive."