Make believe

Chapter 12

"Last night at precisely 8:30 p.m., a Mr. Arthur Campbell entered McKinley theatre located West of Laurence Street, while concealing a gun in his jacket pocket. Movie-goers later said that they noticed something had been wrong the moment the man walked in and stopped, standing in the very middle of the theatre; in front if all to see. According to witnesses, he then proceeded to take out a small object. Pointing it at the person seated closest to him, he fired, alerting the civilians that the man was armed."

I sat at the island in my white kitchen, watching the morning news at 5:52 a.m. Eating a spoon full of cinnamon toast crunch, I lazily watched the screen, an odd feeling in my stomach. The shooting had taken place just a theatre down from us, which was probably why the shot was so clear. After being checked by the paramedics, Luke and I got caught up in the swarm of people rushing to meet their loved ones in the parking lot. He pulled me to the side, away from the steady flow of civilians and on to the grass next to the lot.

I gasped for breath, shock and fear still holding me in their grip. There was a small strip of grass to the right of the parking lot, holding a few trees lined in a row. I got a hold of myself, quickly brushing hair away from my face and regaining composure. I looked up and met his eyes. He had been eerily quiet as the paramedics made sure we were both fine. He didn't say a word, just looked at me with those eyes of his. Slowly, he leaned forward, and then I was in his arms. He bent down, my head smothered in his plaid-shirt bearing chest, and the smell of him consumed my senses. There, he mumbled his first words since we emerged from the theatre.

"Are you okay?"

Of course I was fine. I hadn't been hurt physically in any way. I wasn't damaged or broken. Not bruised or scarred. Yet, when he uttered those three words, a single year fell down my cheek, and a soft whimper escaped my mouth. I could've died. What if the shooter had chosen just one theatre over? What if I had gotten shot? What if something had happened to Luke? My mind raced with the possibilities, and I found myself crying there. Huddled on the little strip of grass next to the swarm of traumatized people. I cried, and I felt Luke's grip around me tighten.

"You're okay." He whispered. Despite the situation, I still felt a shiver run down my back at his voice; his closeness.

"You're okay." He muttered again, more to himself than to me. "We're okay."

I heard my name being called, and I turned my head, scanning the crowd of people in search of the familiar voice. Pulling myself from Luke's arms, I looked around. I suddenly felt cold. Vulnerable at the absence of his touch. Somewhere in the crowd, I caught a glimpse of my moms face. She knew I had come here and must've heard about the shooting.

Leaving Luke, I rushed forward, throwing myself in to my mother's arms. Now I was home. My mom had always made me feel safe. Loved. And at that moment, I began crying harder. She shushed me and ran her fingers through my hair, murmuring something about how she had heard about the attack on the news, but I wasn't paying attention. I was just focusing on the smell of her perfume, and how I felt Luke's gaze burning in to my back. She told me she had the car parked close by, and that it was time to go home. I gave her a nod as she began walking off to our grey Sudan.

Slowly, I walked forward, finding Luke's gaze already on me. I stopped, looking up, and forced a smile as I wiped away a tear. His expression, for the most part, was blank. His jaw set firmly, his mouth a straight line. The only life I saw was in his eyes, which were glossed over and dreary. I sighed.

"Call me, okay?" was all I said. He gave the smallest of nods and I took that as my cue to turn around and began walking. Meeting my mom at the car, I stepped in. And as we drove off, I watched Luke sit down in the grass, long legs folded, and he pulled out his cell phone. He looked so alone there, sitting in the grass underneath the small tree. Yet, he also looked so alert and cautious, as if the worst was yet to come.