nine.
By six o’clock in the morning, Jade wakes up to double blankets enveloping her, and an earthquake.
By six zero three in the morning, Jade hovers over him, her hands gripping his wrists, her mouth calling his name; yelling for him to wake up wake up wake up, her heart breaks into a downfall at the sound of his screams.
By six zero five in the morning, to Jade’s relief, his eyes flies open, revealing a pair of scared ocean-blue irises, sweat sweltered on his upper lips, his forehead, along his neck.
By six ten in the morning when the skies are pink, Jade releases her hold on his wrists, one finger by one finger unlocks from his hot skin. By six thirteen in the morning and the tenth finger releases free, she slumps deep into her seat, a breath of relief escapes her lungs and into the clammed air. By six twenty, the driver’s seat door slams hard into Jade, like it’s knocking off her presence. And now, by six thirty, she slams her door close. Her whole body shudders, part from the bone-chilling morning weather, part from what she’d witnessed inside of the car, how horrified he’d looked. How horrified she’d felt.
She leans her hip on the closed door, arms folded on her stomach. Her eyes focus on the trail of snow on the ground below her. She traces a never ending circle with her right toes, the white road slowly turns to ash-black.
“Here,” a cup of black coffee is handed to her as she looks up to Jasper’s avoiding eyes, “two sugar and a creamer. If that’s okay.” He is both the cold Jasper she’s getting used to and the boy that woke her up with the screams of his nightmare.
She nods, muttering a thank-you as she takes the coffee from him, her fingertips lightly brushes his; cold on the hot container. With the coffee under her nose, she inhales the smell of the Walmart instant coffee and blows a light pressure into the surface, allowing the drink to cool down a little before taking a sip. She prefers five sugar and two creamer.
She must’ve made a face of distaste, or something close to it, because then Jasper fishes something out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and offers her a few packets of sugar. She takes them unrelunctantly and places her cup on the roof of the Impala, tearing off the corner of a sachet and dumps the content into the coffee. After three sachets, she turns around to find Jasper no longer standing beside her. She immediately spots his figure leaning against the hood. She walks over and joins him. He gives her a disgruntled, unwelcoming look; as if she just invades his Jasper Haxon time. Well, after whatever he saw in his sleep last night that haunt him awake, maybe she is. But she can’t help herself.
“Who’s Max?”
He looks at her coldly – something she isn’t a bit surprised of. “What did you… did I say anything?”
Sorry –
I should’ve helped him – but – God – stop blaming this on me! –
Shut up – I didn’t – know –
Shut up shut up – shut up
– I’m s-sorry – help –
She swallows hard at the recall of his screams. “You mentioned something about –” shut up shut up shut up – I didn’t know – “about helping him. And you said Max’s name a few times.”
She stayed silent as she waited for him to elaborate – on who Max was, on what happened to him, on why were people blaming him on this. But even in the whole twenty hours of meeting Jasper Haxon, she knows for a fact that that isn’t going to happen, but she waited anyway. She waited until he drains his cup of coffee and until hers loses its warmth.
