Runaway Cleo

Ch 4: When do we start?

I woke up next to the river with my cheeks stained with tears. It's too dark for me to be able to find the shovel so I decide to just get up and walk to my car. When I get back to my car. after the 5 minute walk from the river, I notice a note in the windshield wiper. I open it to see that it's from Cleo, obvious from her handwriting, which is all lowercased letters.

"i'm proud of you chris. you have been strong. i love you. see you tomorrow." And then it was done. But tomorrow means today since it's so late. I see Cleo today. I smile despite myself, knowing i'll inevitably be hurt.

I try to check my phone just to find that it is dead. So, I climb into my car and look at the radio clock, it's 3:26 am but I'm not tired at all. I get to see Cleo today.

I rush home and walk in my house, not surprised that my mom was out. I go to the kitchen to make something to snack on. I find Oreos and some peanut butter and take those down the hall to my bedroom.

My door is cracked, which I find weird because I always close my door. I open it to find Cleo asleep in my bed. To not wake her, I leave my door open slightly and sit in my desk chair.

I get out a pen and paper and begin to draw her. It reminds me of my journals that I already miss but it's different. This is more of a hope than a cry for help. It's peaceful. It takes me 15 minutes to get her head shaped right, and another 10 to set her hair in all the right places. I don't even bother with her eyes, they are too mysterious and beautiful that I won't even try to recreate them. Doing this reminds me of when i was drawing her the first time, which took me 5 months to finish.

She stirs and I think she is going to wake up but she doesn't. I take some pajamas and get changed in my bathroom. I walk out and notice that she has changed position, so I abandon my drawing and go over to the seat next to my bed. I watch her, with her mouth slightly open allowing silent snores to escape her lungs. And I laugh.

It's louder than I want it to be but I can't help it. My emotions are high and now the love of my young, unfulfilled life, is asleep in my bed.

She turns and I watch her eyes flutter, as if they were about to open. But they don't. So I grab her hand and when she still doesn't wake up, I release it.

I decide to just go to sleep. I turn off the lamp I am guessing she turned on while waiting for me to come home and crawl into bed next to her. She moves position again and is closer to me more now than before. I pull her in and listen to her breathing pattern and feel her chest rise and fall. She smells of wild flowers and a hint of oranges. It's mesmerising.

I wrap my arms around her frail waist and just lay there. Somehow her head rests on my chest and I'm overcome with a tired feeling. So we just sleep. And it is the most peaceful sleep I could've ever asked for.

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I wake up to a bright room and a lovely girl still attached to me. Our legs were intertwined and the duvet was nowhere to be seen. 

Her eyes meet mine and she realises how we are laying, "When did you get home last night?" She asks me with a raspy, perplex tone.

"Around 4am. I tried to wake you but you were basically dead." Once I said it I knew my choice of words was wrong. I should not be this insensitive towards her medical condition. I guess she sees me wince when I notice what I said and she smiles, "It's okay, you didn't mean to say that. It's okay." And to make sure I knew it she gives me a tight squeeze on my hand- once, twice, three times.