An Unextraordinary Lemon-less Life

Chapter 5

When I pulled into Tuesday's driveway, she was sitting on the front steps of her house wearing red plaid pajama bottoms that brought out the fiery tone of her hair and fuzzy white slippers. Her hair was in a messy pile on top of her head and she was wearing black square-framed reading glasses. I didn't know she wore glasses.

She ran to my car. "What's going on, Ash?"

"I'll tell you when we get there," I told her.

She didn't ask anymore questions and we sat sat in silence the whole ride.

I pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned building. She seemed scared, but loosened up when I looked at her.

"So, where are we?" she said, nervously.

"It may not look like much from the outside, but you'll like it, I promise," I assured her.

I led her inside and turned on the lights. Only one of the lights still worked, but it did the job.

I heard her gasp.

"How did you... What is this place?" She asked, not tearing her eyes off the walls. The place was covered in paintings. Most of them were destroyed. There was a fire two years back that ruined nearly everything.

"My mom used to work her. It was an art gallery before the fire," I told her.

"It's perfectly imperfect," she whispered.

"Kind of like us, huh?" I asked.

She whipped her head around and smiled at me. "Exactly like us."

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We stayed laying on our backs on the bare floor—which was covered with dust and ashes—and zoned in on the paintings for about an hour. We were silent, but it wasn't awkward.

"I come here a lot, ever since the fire. It was the only place that really reminded me of my mom. Even with everything destroyed, it reminded me of her. I guess the fire made me appreciate it more. How something can vanish within a matter of seconds, but still remain beautiful? My mom would have loved it. Actually, sometimes I think this place is her. Does that make sense?" She didn't answer. "I don't know. I guess I was just looking for something to bring her back to me."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I brought you here because I was wrong. I do care about something. I care about my mom and this place. The truth is, you will always care. For as long as you live, you will care. I shouldn't have told you that you can never be happy again. Because, you can. The life we're living is sad, and you deserve something better. I have chosen this life, but you still have time to decide. You and me are different. You have life in you. I've seen it. You have the ability to live again. Don't be me, Tuesday. Be the person you used to be. I know you have it in you."

We laid in silence for a while.

"You're wrong about something else too. You care about other people. You care about Jen and Derek. You care about me, too. I can tell because you're trying to help me. You cared enough to bring me here and tell me to get my life back. You can keep telling yourself that you don't care, but you do. You care more than anybody I've ever met, you just don't see it. You're mom would have been proud of the person you've become; someone that cares more about others than himself."

She was right, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. It hurt. Everything hurt. Looking at her hurt. Feeling for her hurt. I wasn't going to let myself feel. It was too much for me.

I looked at her confusedly, but nodded my head.

"Thank you for taking me here," she whispered.