To The Moon And Back

Chapter 18

I could not get a single task done today, my mind just didn't comply. Flashbacks kept coming, shredding pieces of my soul each time. I took the day off, and now I'm contemplating whether or not to regret that decision.

At least studying puts my mind off things, but now, when I have nothing to do, my thoughts plague me and prey on my defeated heart.

Pathetic, really.

I decide to call Jay and he tells me that he'll join me after the casualty and damage reports he has to finish. It feels so bizarre, people once alive, now numbers on a casualty sheet. Families once stitched together, now being ripped apart. Kids once safe with their families, now being deported for a whole new life millions of miles away from their birthplaces.

After my intensive session of overthinking, Jay finally knocks on my door.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi, finished your reports?"

"Yes. Finally. I despise these reports, they're the worst part of my job." He sits next to me.

"I'm sorry." I scoot over, closer to him.

He hugs my side, and we stay quiet for a while. There's nothing to say, it's a horrible day, and we can both acknowledge it.

"When you said that nobody saw you in a vulnerable state before, did you mean it?" I ask him, attempting—not so subtly—to change the subject.

He inhales deeply. "Yes. Apart from you, obviously."

"That's not healthy, Jay. Why don't you trust anyone? What were your parents like? Were they like that, too?"

"One question at a time, Aurora. I do trust some people, I just don't feel comfortable with showing them my relapses. And about my parents, they were madly in love, and they both granted me a lot of attention, so I grew up in a relatively healthy family."

"What happened after that?"

"My dad was gone. Mum hated everyone and everything. Tons of responsibilities rained on me with no assistance except Martha's, who has now left me as well."

I lay my hand on his leg, "you're not alone, Jay, you have me. And I'm sorry you had to go through this."

He half-smiles. "You know, it feels good to talk about this. My childhood, my parents. I admired them so much."

"What's your favorite memory of them?"

"I don't know." He looks upwards, trying to summon old memories from his mind. "Oh, I know. There was this time I wanted a new painting set, and—"

"You painted?" I gush.

"Yes. Anyway, I told mum and she refused to buy it, dad as well, but the next morning, I found the set on my desk. It was the most amazing gift they got me, we painted together all day and—" he pinches the bridge of his nose "—God, I miss this."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah. What about you? Any fun childhood memories?"

I ignore the knot forming in my chest. "Um, when I was eleven, my siblings and I decided to make Pam a birthday cake. It was a disaster, we wrecked the kitchen and burnt the cake." I chuckle lightly. "But it was good fun."

"Sounds like you all got in trouble." He smirks.

"It was my idea, I've always been a troublemaker."

He smiles, taking a deep breath, and none of us speaks. Again. More images of the attack today torment me.

Maybe I should share my sorrows, just like I taught him.