12 days
There were days when I would cry. The moment would come out of nowhere. For example, I could be eating and the thought of dying and not living a normal life like everyone else would get to me. I'd think of all the moments I was going to miss out on such as getting my first job promotion, the feeling of buying my first home/car, or the moment I would hold my first child in my arms.
Eighteen years just wasn't enough for me. In the past, I had tried to live my life to the fullest. I tried to convince myself that I could do so much in eighteen years; that if someone else were in my shoes they would make better use of my life.
But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't erase the knowledge of knowing when I would die.
The following day, it just so happened that all these thoughts were triggered while I stood in Moosh's long queue. There was a group of friends sitting at one of the booths while laughing and stealing glances at a boy standing in the same queue I was in. The boy would occasionally look at them and smile or chuckle. It was cute to watch.
It was cute until I began to think about how I would never sit with a group of friends and try to flirt with a cute boy standing in line. It made me feel lonely and almost empty. I wanted what they had.
I began to breathe heavily. Someone would have thought that I was furious with the way I was breathing. My vision blurred with tears and I quickly hid my face. At this point, I wasn't thinking straight. My feet began to move and I didn't know where they were taking me. When they stopped, I found myself in the parking lot of. I trotted to the curb where a black motorcycle was parked and collapsed to thhe ground. I buried my head between my legs and began to rock back and forth.
The warm tears continued to course down my face. My breathing was still heavy. It felt as if my emotions were in charge of my body and all I could do was sit back and subconsciously watch myself cry.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
My head snapped up and upon seeing the face before me, I instantly regretted it.
I snorted and wiped the tears on my cheeks. "Nick," I said in a weary voice.
"Are you–are you okay?" His forehead creased. "Should I call someone or do something?"
Do something. I wanted him to embrace me in a tight hug and tell me that everything was going to be okay.
But I didn't say any of that. I pushed down whatever I was feeling at the moment and put on my best I'm okay face.
"Uh, yeah!" I responded, trying to brighten up. "I, um..."
Don't say it.
"Have..."
Nancy no.
"My period," I breathed. "My uterus is trying to kill itself."
Why don't you just die now.
Nick's mouth formed an O shape. He didn't seem too uncomfortable or weirded out by what I had just blurted out.
"I'll let you have your moment in peace then," he smiled. He was always smiling.
"Thanks."
Nick dug out a pair of keys from his jean pockets before climbing on the motorcycle next to me
"Why not a car?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"Why not car? You have a higher chance of dying on that thing."
He laughed and ruffled his hair. "First of all, this is not a thing. It's the Yamaha R1. And second of all, cars are overrated."
"Overrated but safe," I pointed out. I never liked motorcycles. They were the drug dealers of cars. They made you feel addicted to the feeling of freedom you got whenever you rode them and they put your life in serious danger. This was all coming from a person who had not even been on a motorcycle.
"Have you ever been on one?"
I shook my head.
"Try it out and you'll realize how overrated this conversation is." He brought the motorcycle to life and began back out of his parking spot. "Happy period."
A small chuckle escaped my lips. I watched Nick hit the road at full speed, earning him a couple of looks from the people outside Moosh.
Having no heart to resume my crying session, I decided to head back inside and order myself something sweet to eat. As I brushed the back of my black dungaree, something on the ground caught my eye. It was a silver wristband.
"Please don't belong to Nick," I prayed as I bent over to pick it up. I was lying to myself. I wanted it to belong to Nick.
And it did.
*****
"I don't get it."
My feet swayed back and forth as I looked up at the moon. I was on the roof of my house.
"Why do I feel like I actually like him?"
She stood still and looked down at me.
"Maybe if I stop going to Moosh, I'll eventually get over him and he'll get a girlfriend. I dunno."
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. "I wish I could stab life in the ass. It deserves it."
A moment of silence danced between the moon and I.
"Just thirteen more days, Nancy. You don't need anyone right now.
As I let the cold breeze of the night gently brush my cheeks, my mind travelled back to last night's dream.
I had given up on trying to figure out if the events had actually taken place, or if it was all just one lucid dream.
Nicholas. The name stuck out in my mind like a sore thumb.
"Nicholas," I was whispered slowly.
I let the thoughts slide away. I pushed swept to the very back of my mind and rendered them useless.
I didn't dream about a silhouette that night.
I dreamt about a pair of soft, familiar hands plaiting my hair.