Northern Lights

*t*w*o*

A U R O R A

My eyes snapped open and met a stark white ceiling.  A brush of momentary panic subsided into relief as I took in my surroundings. I reached over toward the blaring sound of my alarm clock and groggily turned it off. In my half-awake mind, I was able to discern that I was in my own bedroom just like any other morning.

Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I felt a pounding headache forming behind my eyes. I groaned at the familiar feeling, as if I'd downed a full bottle of liquor last night.

The only time I had ever gotten drunk was when my friends convinced me to go to a "high school party" so I got the full "teenage experience." Just like most other "normal high school" things, I didn't find much enjoyment in being intoxicated, and I certainly didn't enjoy the migraine and throwing up the next morning.

I tried to recall last night's events that led my seeming hangover; the last thing I could remember was driving to the airport. But beyond getting out of the car, the rest was a complete blank.

Considering how boring my life generally was, I assumed that nothing had happened, but my distinct lack of memory was somewhat worrying. It was almost as if the memories I was trying to access were blocked out by part of my brain.

Before I could freak out any further I heard my dad's voice ring out.

"Rory! You're going to be late for school!" I snapped out of my trance and frantically threw on some clothes and brushed my teeth. By the time I was downstairs, my dad was already gone.

I sighed internally. I should have been used to it by then, honestly. Ever since my mom had left, my relationship with my dad had been pretty much the bare minimum. My mom was not to be mentioned, and even looking at me seemed to bring back painful memories of her for him.

Even my name wasn't safe. When hearing that my name was "Aurora" people would often guess that I was named after the Disney princess. Although I did put the "sleeping" in "sleeping beauty," (as evidenced by my waking up late) the name was inspired by my mom. One of the few things I have left of my mom, actually.

She had always been in love with astronomy and would always tell me stories of the galaxies far away. But she was particularly fixated with the natural phenomena of the sky that we could see from Earth: the Aurora Borealis.

"Aurora," she would say, "you're my own little Northern Light."

We had made plans to go to Alaska to see the Northern Lights in person someday. For a while, after she left, I still held out hope. I dreamed of the day that she'd come back, tickets in hand for us to go see all the places we talked about.

I would even tell my dad about how I was sure she'd be back for me.

One day he had enough.

"Your mother isn't coming back. She's not coming back, and she sure as hell isn't coming to whisk you off to Alaska and you need to get over it!" I vividly remembered the pain in his voice, the frustration mixed with sadness.

He had apologized countless times for what he said, realizing the impact of his words.

Even now, those words echoed inside my head every time I started to feel hopeful or nostalgic.

From that day forward I decided to go by the name "Rory" instead of Aurora. Just one step further away from the woman I once called my mom.

And just like everything else in my life, I decided to pretend, like my dad did. I tried to forget she existed.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, I realized I had been completely on autopilot, driving to school and parking in my usual spot.

I shook myself out of my memory-induced trance and headed into the school. I made it to my first class, chemistry, and saw my friend Rose standing outside.