Page 50 of Dark Embers

It was a foray into insanity that I allowed myself for the day. I may have even talked to her a few times. It wasn’t like she talked back or anything—I wasn’t completely delusional. But imagining her there with me gave me a sense of comfort I desperately needed.

I woke up Friday morning with the spoon tangled in my hair and a sort of ice cream hangover dragging my limbs. I climbed out of my pillow mountain on the couch and stumbled to my room, oddly feeling like I was performing my own version of the walk of shame. Only instead of drunkenly sleeping with a regrettable stranger, I’d dwelled in lonely, self-indulgent fantasies while gorging on junk food.

Not my proudest moment, and I was eager to clean myself up and enjoy a day of shopping with my friends.

So I got a quick shower and tossed on some clothes I’d borrowed from Ashlyn. I was eager to buy my own things today so I could return her items to her. She hadn’t been bugging me to get them back, but depending on her made me feel like a charity case, and I hoped that having my own clothes here would make me feel more at home at this school.

Ashlyn was waiting at the platform when I got there, and a large, intimidating man was standing protectively beside her. Though I had never seen Mr. Summers in person, I got the distinct impression this was him. He looked every bit like a military man with his strict posture and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Remind me where you’re going again?” he was asking her when I approached.

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “We’re going to the Magnificent Mile to do some shopping.”

“And you have location activated on your phone?” he prompted.

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a mock two-fingered salute.

He frowned at her gesture but seemed satisfied with her response.

“Just get there and back safely. That’s all I ask. I know you're smart, so if anyone or anything looks suspicious, get back here immediately.”

She rolled her eyes again, but softness crept into her features. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll be back soon. Want me to stop in when I do? So you know I'm back?”

“No need. I’ll know.” With a look of certainty, he spun on his heel and marched away, nodding at me as he passed.

Ashlyn watched until he’d disappeared through the vault door. “Ugh, this is so stupid. He was M.I.A. my whole childhood, and now he has to play the devoted father? Like I’m not capable of taking care of myself without him?”

I shrugged, a twinge of jealousy tugging at my insides. “At least he cares. It’s gotta be nice to know you have someone looking out for you.”

She met my gaze, her adolescent reluctance melting away. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just weird for me, that’s all. Even when my mom was alive, she didn’t pay that much attention to me. She was always drunk, so I had the freedom to go wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted without anyone telling me otherwise.”

The envy inside me wrestled with sympathy at that. Though Ashlyn and I were similar in the loss of our mothers, everything else about our upbringing was very different. Where I had been overly sheltered, she had been neglected. Where I had nothing but rules, she’d had nothing but freedom. It was an odd double-edged sword.

Ultimately, I realized that I was the lucky one in that comparison. I’d rather have confined love than disregarded independence.

The train pulled up in front of us, the doors sliding open.

“Come on, let’s go,” Ashlyn urged with the tip of her head, and I followed her.

“So, I take it dinner went well,” I said playfully as we sat down.

She shrugged. “Well, I guess it could’ve been worse. He’d been adamant about cooking himself, and though the turkey was dry and the pumpkin pie was burnt, the mac n’ cheese was pretty good. But I did see a Betty Crocker ready-made box in the trash, so thankfully, he had help with that one.”

I laughed. “Nothin’ better than the classic.”

“Exactly,” she said. “How was your Thanksgiving? Did you go to Shea’s?”

I pursed my lips, not quite willing to share the shame of my pitiful day. “Nah, I just stayed in and watched movies with good ol’ Ben and Jerry.”

“Damn, that sounds nice,” she said with a sigh.

I was going to let the topic die there, but my sorrow suddenly felt too heavy to carry alone. “It was pretty pitiful actually.” I let a nervous laugh slip out.

She turned to me with upturned brows. “What do you mean?”

My eyes started to prickle with the telltale sting of tears. “I spent the whole day pretending my mom was on the couch with me, making comments to her about the movies we used to watch together. I feel pretty damn crazy about it now.”

“Aww.” She frowned, wrapping me into a hug against her. “I’m sorry. If I had known, I would’ve dragged you to dinner. You would’ve been a welcomed buffer against my dad.”

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