Moment to moment

-4-

As always, the streets are quiet as we make our way through them. The faint rustle of trash or the lightest of footsteps penetrate the silence every once in awhile.

Kyle and I don't utter a word until we're on the outskirts of the city, several miles from Mira's house.

"We could follow the coastline, that should keep us in the right direction. Maybe camp out at a few places here and there." Kyle explains, motioning to the shore less than a mile away.

I nod,"Same as always."

He takes the hint that I don't want to talk and keeps his mouth shut.

I stare ruefully at the ocean that sits so close.
The blue water shines and I can just hear the sloshing of the waves. Why does it surface glitter so brilliantly? How can it stay beautiful even with all the chaos surrounding it?

Tearing my gaze from the sea, I glance at Kyle. His eyes are set in front of us, shoulders tense. Is he stiff because of me or just ready for trouble?

I sigh,"Kyle, I'm sorry for bringing up Emma. I know that it is a sensitive subject and I shouldn't have used it like a weapon."

He runs his fingers through his hair, not meeting my eyes,"I'm sorry I followed you, I know I should've just trusted your judgement but I can't see you get hurt Sky, I care about you. About Emma, you're right I would see her but I can't. And after the accident I haven't been the same, she was the person I hung on to to keep me from going crazy. Mira's that for you and I shouldn't try and take that away."

I grab his arm, forcing him to stop,"I know if you still had her, things would be different. Maybe you would've stayed home in California, maybe we would've never become friends at all, maybe I would've never left. The thing is, everything can change in the blink of an eye. The moments we had disappear and are replaced with new ones, often less favorable ones. All we can do is...move on."

Even as I say it, I taste the lie. I know I won't move on, that I can't, ever. Yet I keep a blank face, trying to convince myself that that's the truth.

He purses his lips, looking past me, into the distance,"I guess you're right."

I swallow my urge to confess my doubts. Right now he needs a firm hand and even if that's not what I am, I can act like it.

Looking back at the ocean, I can just smell the salty breeze. Memories tug at my thoughts, pulling me into a happier time, before the pandemic, before the natural disasters. When I could walk outside without fear of disease or attack, when the only problems were which boy is upsetting my best friend and how much homework is due tonight.

Where did those times go?

...

This time I wake up to someone brushing aside my hair gently.

Groggily, I open my eyes to see my mom by my side. Her hair is a mess, like she hasn't touched it in days. Her eyes are slightly red and puffy, from crying I assume. Yet, even with her disheveled look, she keeps a warm smile that instantly makes me brighten, even if it's just a little.

"Uh, good morning." I mutter hazily, my brain still half asleep.

"Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?"

"Umm still kinda drugged, I think, everything seems off. Otherwise, I feel fine." That was mostly true, physically I feel good but I'm still extremely worried and nervous.

She chuckles and squeezes my uninjured hand reassuringly,"That's good, sweetie."

Her words sound...fake, somehow. Like she's just dying to ask me something or scold me or tell me some tragic news.

I keep my mouth shut and so does she.

The rain and wind can still be heard, pounding on the building relentlessly. I want to curl up into a ball and drift away.

With just uncomfortable silence filling the space between me and my mom, I take the time to inspect my surroundings now that my vision has improved. 

About half the beds are empty, curtains open and clean sheets displayed. Most of the other ones have the curtains drawn. Only two beds hold people in sight.

The first I notice, a boy that looks around my age with black hair sticking up in all sorts of ways. Dirt smears his tanned skin and bandages heavily cover his torso. His eyes are closed but he's propped up in a sitting position so I can't tell if he's asleep or not. He lays across from me so if I wanted to I could just yell and startle him.

The other holds a young girl. Her black hair is matted and sweat coats her face. Bandages wrap around her legs, making them almost double the side of her body. Her eyes flutter open to reveal striking blue eyes, they travel unseeingly across the room. A grimace crosses her young face and she closes her eyes again.

"What's on your mind?" My mom whispers, clearly trying to keep our conversation out of ear shot.

"I'm just a little confused and shocked."

She nods,"That's understandable."

I take another look at her. She grips my hand as if it's her life support but all I feel is a slight tingle as the drugs start to wear off. But what catches my eye is the tight lipped scowl on her face, I can see the barely controlled anger bubbling under the surface.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

That makes her snap,"What's wrong?! Other than the fact that you snuck out and endangered your life as well as Mira's? That I had to wake up to the hospital calling me in the middle of the night? That I drove through a hurricane to find you passed out on a hospital bed with blood soaking you're clothes? What could possible be wrong?!" She hisses each word in a whisper shout, each syllable hit home.

I stare at her, guilt tugging at me,"Mom...I didn't think—"

"Of course you didn't think." She growls.

I look down at my bandaged side, avoiding her fuming gaze. Silence settles and I don't dare glance in her direction.

"I think I'm gonna rest." I mutter.

Her voice softens,"Skylar, I'm sorry."

I stay looking away,"Go, please."

There's a moment where her hand still grips mine, but she lets go and I hear her footsteps retreat.

After a few minutes of restless turning and uncomfortable sitting, I resort to staring blankly at the wall.

"The bandages are a bitch, huh?"

I jump slightly at the voice then make eye contact with the boy across from me. He smiles slightly, his grey-silver eyes shining with a curious glint.

"Yeah, how do they expect me to rest with three inch cloth around me?"

He laughs,"Kyle Rodgers."

I smile,"Skylar Wilson."