Mia

Thursday Evening

The bed screeches as he sits down. This movement makes the closed navy curtains sitting at the foot of the bed shift. On a desk to the side of that, a computer is playing 'Gone with the Wind'. The wall next to that one is plastered with Queen and Bon Jovi. And the wall next to that has the door and the head of the bed. A picture from a year ago hangs on the wall. A younger Mia and Dan watching us. The light has been dimmed.

"Here ya go," Dan passes me a mug full of steaming hot chocolate. I lean down and put it on the floor. He watches me with wide eyes.

"What?" I laugh.

"I go all the way downstairs and you don't even drink it."

"It's hot," I whine while burying my head into his shoulder.

"Yeah yeah." He pats my head. Scarlett O' Hara starts babbling in the background, but I stay on Dan's shoulder. His deep, spicy sent encompasses me and his shirt comforts my forehead, warmth seeping through it. After a couple minutes I feel him press a kiss to the back of my head. I look up and grin. He leans closer while Scarlett keeps talking.

Friday Afternoon

Clicking ricochets off waxy white walls. Glossy red nails tap against the keyboard. I can hear the whisper of the wind against the building every few minutes, but the only other constant sound is the whirring of computers­­­­­–slick machines lined in rows. Outside skeletal trees shudder and droplets heave down the window panes. The light from outside isn't strong enough, so the room is filled with the harsh white of the college lightbulbs. It makes my eyes ache. My hands lie flat atop the plastic while Mandie's assault her keyboard but hover and twitch every now and then. I look over my shoulder and push a foot of the floor swivelling to the left, but there is nothing of interest amongst the brightly coloured books. The tapping stops and I turn back to my empty essay. I lean my head on a fist and tap my thumb on the desk. It stays like this for a few minutes.

And then: "You're the one who insisted on doing this, Mia."

"I know," I say, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. "I don't know what to put."

Mandie exhales and leans back, making the chair moan. "At all?"

I turn to her tightening my lips and then stare at the screen.

"Why did you insist so much on doing it now then, if you don't even have an idea?"

"'Cause I need your help." I emphasise the e of help. "This isn't what I wanna focus on."

Mandie stares at me for a moment, but then scoots closer. She explains the premise of the essay and how it relates to what we were discussing in class. I nod constantly, biting my lip in thought. After the interval the short black nails start to tap along with the glossy red ones. Rain soon joins our chorus. It starts as a tickling on the roof, but by the time I have half an essay it's built to a heavy knocking that thunders away the ricochet of tapping.

"Alright. Time to go." Mandie turns her computer off and stands. I look up at her.

"We've been here for over an hour. It's Friday."

I look back at the computer but don't move.

"You'll be fine." She pushes her chair in and waits, looking down on me. I turn to the computer and do the same, stretching my arms into the air as I stand.

"Ugh, rain," I say.

"I think it's lightened. It's not so loud now." Mandie walks towards the coat pegs by the door. Passes me my lilac waterproof.