No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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IT WAS HALF-PAST SEVEN WHEN I AWOKE, HEAD ON MY MOTHER'S LAP. I had no recollection of falling asleep, head buzzing, eyes swollen, and cheeks stained.
"Awake?" My mother's voice sounded to me. "You slept for two hours."
The best two hours of sleep I'd gotten all week. Sitting up, I craned my neck. "Your legs must be numb now."
She laughed. "That's the least of my concerns." She stood up, stretching. "Anyways, come downstairs. I'll make you dinner."
Something about that almost made me tear up again, because how long had it been since I'd had a meal prepared by her?
I pulled myself together, washed my half-asleep face, and went downstairs.
The smell of freshly made Shepherd's pie was drugging. I didn't even realize how quickly I'd attempted to eat until I burned the roof of my mouth, shrieking in horror.
"Oh, geez," my mother rolled her eyes. "Have you considered being more ladylike?"
"If waiting for food to cool a little so I can prevent my mouth from burning is considered ladylike, I'd like to very much replicate a caveman," I grinned with my face stuffed, but the smile died quick.
She crinkled her nose. "That's just gross."
I motioned to her, pointing at the chair beside mine. Instead, she stood, patting my head. "Laura."
My hands froze, fear setting in when I looked at her face. "What?"
Her eyes swelled. "What's wrong, baby?"
My throat closed. How was that the easiest and the hardest question in the whole world? How were things totally okay and yet, nothing okay at all? How was one very well above the surface, feet steady on the ground, and yet—screaming, drowning underwater?
How was one supposed to deal with the uneasiness that rooted to the very core, associated with a heart that was no longer quite theirs?
"I..." The spoon dropped, hand clashing with the table, and the words I uttered shocked even myself. "I'm selfish, mom. I'm so selfish and I hate myself so much. And I drag people into my messes when that's the last thing I should be doing, and I. . .always end up ruining the good things. Things you'd want for me to have. It's like a physical force is holding me back. And I—"
I did not realize I was crying until I got wrapped up in a hug. Mom didn't say a word, however. And I didn't need one to keep me going.
"I've lost a friend and then I've made so many more and somehow the day I lost him outdoes all the memories I now create. The loss of him feels greater, vaster than the sky now than it did back then, and I—I still. . .there's still not one day I wonder what it would be like if he was here, with us. If only we—if only I were smart enough to know or quick enough to have considered that something could've happened to him. . .if only I'd known. I should've, right? Wasn't I supposed to know? How—"
