Forty
The bookstore was set to close in two weeks.
With each hour that ticked by, I felt as if a portion of me was dying; piece by piece. I don't think it ever occurs just how much something matters to you, until it's about to be wrenched out of your hands forever.
Dylan and I had become a lot less talkative over the course of the pass few days. I chalked it up to him being stressed over moving out of the apartment above the store, which was the only place he had lived in his entire life, and that his parents had started fighting about the profits they would make after the store had sold.
I sat down on my bed, my math homework spread out in a form of organized chaos in front of me. Staring at the equations for such a long period of time made my eyes go fuzzy and it was nothing less than a relief to hear the phone ring.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"It's nice to hear your voice."
I laid back on my bed and held the phone up tightly to my ear. Because the bookstore had been so busy with potential buyers for the space at the moment, Dylan and I haden't been able to meet there for our usual book hunting sessions or just general after school hangouts. Even by this point, this conversation was the longest one we've had in days.
"Sorry I've been such a mope lately."
"It's okay. I get you're under a lot of pressure."
"You know I miss you right?"
There was a knock on the front door.
"Have your parents stopped fighting?"
"It's gotten less frequent... They're more concerned about finding us all a new house to live in."
The knock turned into a banging sound against the door, and it rattled my window.
"Is there an earthquake or something?"
"I don't really know... I think someone's banging on the door. Here, hold on... I'm going downstairs to check."
"Amber-"
"I'll be careful."
"Do you want me to come over there?"
I sighed.
"I'm pretty sure I can handle whoever's knocking on my door."
Dylan huffed on the other end of the line, and I carefully placed the phone down on my bedspread. My mom was still at work for the evening, so I would be home alone for the next hour or two. As I got closer to the front door, I realized just how heavy the person would have to have been hitting it in order for it's echos to rattle throughout the house in such a way.
My hand reached for the doorknob, and I pulled it open wide.
There was Tina, her lip cut, her eye bruised, and an unlit cigarette in her right hand.
"Tina- Tina, oh my God."
"It's pretty fucked up, right?"
"What happened?"
She looked at me, the emerald of her eyes magnified by the purple and black hues lingering underneath each of them. Reaching up, she brushed the blood from her lip off on her sleeve and met me with a gaze of intensity I haden't seen in a longtime. An empty smile made it's way across her tattered lips.
"I'm sorry Amber... So fucking sorry."
That's when she collapsed.
