When Night Comes(COMPLETED)

A Welcome Distraction

A Welcome Distraction


The loud ringing of my door comm pulls me into consciousness. I glance over to the clock in dismay, It says 1:54. I haven't slept this late since when I was 11 and had my tonsils removed. My head is foggy, but I manage to tie my bathrobe on and go downstairs.
As I turn the knob, a surprised expression comes over my face. It's Lucy. Day's guardian. When he started taking care of Eden again, he was still 17, and not legally old enough to adopt him. Lucy was in charge of making sure everything was ok. She was more like a mom though, making dinners and tidying up the house. Day hated her at first, but they ended up really close.
"June."
There's water in Lucy's eyes. Well, of course. She just met him this year, and Day lost a whole year of memory. She lost him, too.
"Please," I start, "Please come in."
Me and Lucy sit at the table, holding hands. We don't say anything. Sometimes words aren't needed.
"I haven't eaten anything in two days. Can I have a piece of that cake?"
She asks, and nods towards the cake meant to commemorate Day's recovery. Oddly enough, she doesn't ask about it.
"Uh... Sure."
Lucy gets two plates from the cabinet and two forks from a drawer. She sits down and starts neatly cutting a slice.
I'm suddenly hit by a wave of hunger, and I grab a fork. Instead of waiting for Lucy to cut me a piece, I just stab the cake with my fork and start eating. The cake is delicious. With how insane life has been these past few months, I haven't had much chance for eating desserts.
Lucy stares.
"What are you doing? Your getting cake crumbs all over the table!"
I pause and stare at her, surprised. I'm not really in the mood for a lecture about table manners, especially from Lucy.
"Oh well,"
She sighs, takes her fork, and starts mutilating the cake right along with me. This image- of an elderly woman violently attacking a cake in mid-afternoon- just seems so comical. I giggle.
"What are you laughing about?!"
Lucy snaps sternly. She takes a scoop of the cake off the platter and tosses it at me. The icing sticks in my hair and the cake falls onto my bathrobe. She must insane with grief. I gasp, and grab a handful of the sticky dessert. Luckily, I am, too.
Within ten minutes the icing has smeared across my once-clear glass table top. My sofa pillows have been ruined with the red coloring of icing and the chunks of cake stuck in it. But me and Lucy are holding our sides laughing, and, for the moment, this immature activity is a welcome distraction.