The Resurrection of Aubrey Mill

Chapter Four

The memory escapes slowly from its confinement, almost cautiously, before finally freeing itself, rushing my mind so quickly I physically wince in response. The pain it will yield is inevitable and I’m defenseless against it as it begins to replay in my mind:
“I don’t want to go, Kaeleb. I’m scared.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I search desperately for some sort of comfort from his shining eyes. But there’s nothing that can help me now. Cold darkness threatens to suffocate me as I’m pulled under and barely breathing. I’m dying. Just like my family.
“Bree,” he responds, quickly removing the moisture from his own face. “You have to go. You—”
“I know. I have no one here.” I sigh. “They’re all…gone.”
Kaeleb nods slightly before pulling me into his arms. Only eight years old, same age as me, yet his hold feels so strong, so secure. I know he doesn’t want to let me go, and as the pretty lady with the rose perfume comes to break us apart, the need for us to grasp onto each other becomes more desperate. She calls for help, and as they try to tear us apart, tears continue to roll down our cheeks with the knowledge that this will be our last moment together. We hold on to each other as tightly as we can, but are eventually broken apart, our fingers the last to let go as we reach for each other.
“I love you, Kaeleb,” I whisper to myself as they gently guide me into the back seat of an unknown car. Before they close me in, I scream as loudly as I can, “You’re my best friend!”
His eyes meet mine as they shut the door between us. Determination fills his eyes as he walks to the car and just when they start the engine, he places his palm flat on the window with his fingers spread as far as they will go. Slamming my hand against the cool glass, I do the same, knowing this will be the last time I will ever be in the presence of my friend. My best friend.
As we drive away, I watch out the back window as he runs down the street as long as his legs can carry him. They eventually lock underneath him and his knees hit the ground, unable to keep up any longer.
I throw my hand against the back window as the car turns the corner and continue to watch until I lose sight of him. Not until he’s gone do I allow myself to fall into the darkness. I no longer fight for the need to breathe as I let go. I just step out of myself and watch the pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl slowly dying as she sinks, spiraling lower and lower until finally disappearing into the bottomless pit that swallows her.
“Raven? Hell-ooooo!” Quinn’s voice filters slowly through the searing pain of my memory, bringing me back into the present where I’m still standing on my bed and the damn poster is still swinging from side-to-side behind me. But now, instead of the sound barely registering, it’s grating against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.
Quinn and Kaeleb have made their way to the corner of my bed during my brief mental vacation and now they’re so close, I fight the urge to step back in order to put some distance between us. The corners of Kaeleb’s mouth twitch slightly when my hand finally slams against the poster.
I can’t take it anymore.
His eyes break away from my stunned gaze to address Quinn. “So, this is your roommate? Raven?” he asks, before once again turning his attention back to me.
My eyes wander all over his face, the little boy I once knew no longer present in his features. His youthful, rounded face has molded itself into high-cheekbones that highlight a strong, well-defined jaw lined with a day’s worth of stubble. The same hazel, greenish-brown eyes are there, but instead of love and acceptance, I find them full of curiosity and apprehension. The reddish tint I used to love in his brown hair is no longer noticeable due to a ridiculous amount of hair gel coating it, expertly styled so that it all comes forward forming an off-center peak right in the front. And his body is definitely not that of the eight year old boy that I remember. His white undershirt pulls tight across an insanely sculpted chest, barely hidden underneath a grey lightweight hoodie.
As we stand eye-to-eye, I take comfort in the fact that at least we’re still the same height.
Except, I’m still standing on the bed, so actually, that’s not true.
After seconds of stupefied, open-mouthed gawking, I finally manage to take a step and jump off, thankful for Quinn and Kaeleb’s backwards movement out of my personal space. Once I hit the ground, I shyly glance back up at the boy-turned-man that now towers over me. His eyes narrow as he cocks his head, and for the first time since seeing him, I remember that his isn’t the only appearance that has changed. Although, mine is much more drastic. So drastic that as he stares, I realize he doesn’t even recognize me. And while my initial reaction is to feel saddened that he’ll never know it’s me, that I’m here standing here in front of him, relief floods me and drowns out the sorrow.
“As Quinn stated, I’m Raven,” I respond abruptly in the direction of Kaeleb, giving only my first name, worried that the mention of “Miller” will give me away. Kind of a moot point I guess, since my student I.D. is lying right by the swear jar on the table behind me.
Quinn gives me a look of appreciation. “Isn’t she cool?” she states, looking back up to Kaeleb for his approval. I watch as the left side of his mouth jerks up before he replies, “She’s definitely something.”
I roll my eyes and release a breath. Whatever. I know I’m a freak. I accept it wholeheartedly. But hearing him say it out loud feels as if he just stabbed me in the heart with a dull spoon, taking the liberty of twisting it approximately three times before removing it. It hurts.
“You’re my best friend!”
In an attempt to clear my thoughts, I reach for my luggage and open it, hoping they grasp the hint that I’m really not up for conversation or damning conclusions at this moment, or ever for that matter. Not from him anyway.
Instead, they remain where they stand and the awkwardness of the moment flusters me. “If you don’t mind…” I trail off, pulling mounds of black clothing out of my suitcase and throwing them onto the bed.
In other words, leave me the f*ck alone.
Just like Pavlov’s dog, my conditioned response lures me to the “swear jar” where I insert a quarter without question. Apparently, my freak mode is in full effect today. Perfect. Not at all embarrassing.
Pulling the rest of the quarters out of my front pocket, I set them on top of my I.D. just to the side of the jar, running my finger gently along its lid before turning to face the questioning expressions of Quinn and Kaeleb.
Quinn scrunches up her nose and giggles before inquiring, “What is that thing anyway?”
“It’s my swear jar,” I respond, completely straight-faced. “It’s Linda’s way of attempting to discourage my unfortunate addiction to ‘vulgar language and unnecessary obscenities’ as she calls them. But sometimes it’s just necessary to throw in the word f*ck or shit to really get your point across, you know?” I let out a weary sigh. I think I just met my obligatory conversation quota for the next two years with that one statement.
Quinn, on the other hand, belts out a laugh. “F*ck yeah, I do!”
Abandoning Kaeleb at his post next to my bed, she skips her way over to her desk before pulling open the drawer, grabbing a handful of change, then whirling back around to head in my direction. She passes right by me and approaches the table, depositing a quarter before adding the others to my already established collection next to the jar.
When she turns back around, a sly grin slowly spreads across her face. “Well, now it’s the ‘beer fund’ jar. Feel free to express vulgarity and obscenity anytime you feel the need. This way we can kill two birds with one stone, freedom of expression and the acquisition of alcohol.”
“Niiiice,” Kaeleb pipes in, still holding the fort down in my personal space behind me. “Can I get in on this?”
“Sure!” Quinn squeaks, once again bouncing off the balls of her feet while clapping excitedly.
I twist my body to observe Kaeleb, whose mouth spreads into an absolutely gorgeous, wide grin displaying his perfectly white, straight teeth—much to my detriment. Casting his eyes down to me, he adds with that stupid smile still present on his face, “You’re shittin’ me with those eyes, right?”
A*shole proceeds to reach into his pocket and pulls out his hand, examining the change in his palm until he finds a quarter, leaning in toward me and reaching around my waist to deposit it into the jar while I do the same. Our hands brush lightly, and surprised by our close proximity, I take a whopping step back into the safety of my no-one-allowed-past-this-point zone. My knees hit the bed behind me as his body once again crosses in front of mine; the breeze of our passing wafts the familiar scent of fresh cut grass and clean laundry between us. More Level 3 memories threaten to escape as I inhale deeply, swiftly rushing forward in anticipation of their long awaited release. But before they can breach my mind I slam the door and lock it once again, hoping Kaeleb’s access was just a one-time occurrence.
His hazel orbs fill with silent laughter at my response, but his broad smile lessens into a crooked grin as he assesses me from afar. Once I regain mental capability, I yank my mind from the heightened security of the memory bins and my eyes tighten into thin slits. “You’re shittin’ me with that question, right?”
Quickly leaning forward, I throw one more quarter into the jar and then take three large steps to the side in order to ensure even more distance, forming a triangle between the three of us. Quinn to my left, watching our exchange with way too much interest, and Kaeleb on my right, whose expression is void of the previous humor, yet not unkind. Almost as though the terseness of my comment merely piqued his curiosity.
We all remain locked in our places and seconds awkwardly turn into minutes, no one really sure where to take the conversation next.
Sadly, I tend to have that effect on these types of situations.
After a long while, Quinn is the first to break the silence. “Well, this is f*cking awkward.” (Deposits quarter)
Kaeleb chuckles and responds with, “It sure as shit is.” (Deposits quarter)
Quinn follows that up with, “What the f*ck are we going to do about it? (Deposits quarter)
To which Kaeleb answers, “Hell if I know.” (Deposit quarter and mouths “That counts”)
Quinn laughs and states, “Hell yeah, it does.” (Deposits quarter)
It’s then that they both stop their expletive-charged dialogue to stare at me, obviously expecting me to be a willing participant in this sad excuse for a conversation. My eyes first find those of Quinn, full of hope, and then Kaeleb’s, urging me to say something.
My eyes flick back and forth between the two a couple of times before I manage to do the impossible.
A barely there smile plays lightly on my lips and a hint of laughter lodges its way through my mouth as I finally conclude the discussion.
“Fine. You win.” Reaching back toward the table, I add, “F*ck the beer fund and break open the jar. Let’s get the hell out of here to go get some f*cking dinner.” (Deposits three quarters and then empties jar)
And with that one obscenity-filled statement, we stride out of the dorm room together, forging unlikely friendships—some old, some new—that will forever change the course of our lives.
See. I told you, Linda.
Sometimes expletives are just…necessary.