Hours

27- Thursday, May 17th

10:07 PM

Faintly, I hear Micheal murmur something. I open my eyes slowly and see him smiling openly, propped up on his elbow, looking down at me.

I really should be getting home...

But my eyelids are just so heavy.

I fall asleep with the sounds of AJR in my head, and Micheals smile on my brain.

"You're doing well."

Are these my best years yet?

"Really well, Kayla. I'll have to admit, I didn't think you would get this far with him. I trusted you to do this for me, just to help him, even if for just one week, but I didn't truly think you would go this far."

I'm not important yet.

"You really care about him, don't you?" I hear the woman's voice in my head, though I can't move or open my eyes. I can't feel anything. It's not like before. I know I'm dreaming. But this time, there's no fancy ballgowns, no concert hall, no confusion. This time, it's just dark and still. This time, I know I'm dreaming, and I can hear the rest of the world. It's different.

It's comforting.

If you put this scene on a movie screen is it called a happy end?

If the world gets me where I'm s'posed to be, will I know I've made it then?

It's so hard...

Can we skip to the good part?

And then the darkness is gone, and it's bright, so very bright, and I look down and there I am, on the beach. My hair is falling just past my shoulders and I'm wearing a knee length dress. It's striped and blue and so incredibly familiar. I look around and see rocks and water that doesn't hit the beach until far, far out. It's like I could walk for miles and never touch the water. But I know better, because I know this beach, and I know that once you do get in the water, the rocky beach beneath you falls away quickly, and then you're out in gray-blue water of the lake and, 'Swim in, Kayla, we don't want you going out that far!'.

And I know where I am.

And I know when this is.

And I look to my left and I see my parents, comfortably sitting together in chairs by the shore, my mother wearing a wide hat and my Dad smiling at me, encouraging me to come over and have some of the watermelons we packed for lunch that day.

I look up and the sky is so blue, so very blue, and the sun is shining and everything feels right.

It's my sixth birthday and my parents took me to the beach. Dad had woken me up this morning with pancakes he had added food colouring to, making them look rainbow. Mom had given me this new dress, then told me to get my bathing suit on. And we piled in the car, me bouncing in my seat with excitement, for a two-hour drive up here to this beach. I remember Mom being disappointed that this was the place that Dad had talked about the entire time because he had made it sound so magical.

But I thought it was magical, too.

Probably 'cause reality blows...

"What comes next will be hard."

We traded our boring lives...

"You know that, right? Nothing that's next will be even remotely considered easy. I feel bad, I thought you should know. I really do." The angel's voice is back, and the scene in front of my slides away, as does any feeling that comes with it. The magic, the joy, it's all replaced by a comforting blackness, a heavyweight of content placed on my chest. It's like curling up under layers and layers of blankets, a weight so heavy you can hardly move, though you would never want to.

Recently he said that she said that we said some shit that you wouldn't believe.

Recently he said that she said that we said that he said some shit about me.

So we're caught up in drama.

This time, it's not so bright. In fact, it's rather dark. This time when I look around I see nothing but the familiar inside of my basement, the dark couches, the warm blankets. And then I see a strand of strawberry blonde hair and pale arms. A long gray t-shirt, and a pair of black leggings. I see junk food all over the floor, and I hear her laugh and I laugh back and everything is back to normal. I smile at her as I pick up another cookie off of the plate we had brought from upstairs. We baked them that night, and they were definitely not good, but we thought they were great at the time.

It was halfway through the Christmas break, and we had a sleepover. We stayed up far too late, talking about everything and nothing. I was in Grade 6. It was wonderful, and we were happy, and everything just seemed so...

Perfect.

She was lying on her back, hair puffed up around her head like a small halo. I smiled at her as we lay there in a sugar coma, and she smiled back. She said something I didn't catch, a joke, and we both burst out laughing. I knew then that this wasn't real, that we weren't friends again, that she still hated me. Because why else would I laugh at a joke I didn't hear? How would I even know that it was a joke?

I closed my eyes and willed for this to end.

Yep, yep, I'm gonna miss this someday

I didn't want to be around her.

I couldn't be around her.

Yep, yep, I'll miss another Friday

And all my friends say,

"You won't like what happens next. In fact, you may just regret everything so far."

Come hang out, 'cause you're out of your mind

"But, trust me, Kayla. Please."

You're working so damn hard, you forgot what you like

"Stay with him. Stay with Micheal."

And come hang out, don't you leave us behind.

"Save Micheal Sawyer, Kayla."

But, I'll be there next time,

"Save him, please."

I'll be there next time.

My eyes snap open and I'm disorientated. I don't know where I am, I don't know what's happening-

My heart pounds, I sit up and-

And-

It's morning. The sun is shining through the windows. The dark walls look less compacting. The sheets around me are warm, and I look to my side and see Micheal-

Micheal.

Oh my god.