Chapter 62 #2
I’d tried bringing different objects here, things I thought would’ve been important to him.
His degrees, his dissertation, one of his shirts I slept in.
I laid them on the ground one by one and waited.
I prayed. I cried. I hugged the tree. I begged to a God I knew didn’t exist for Micah to come back.
I even begged the God I did know existed; four archangels watching unsympathetically.
Nothing ever worked.
Mason went to the Syndesmos once, just to confirm again that this was irreversible.
It was.
It didn’t matter that Micah was the one who gave his life for me; I couldn’t bring him back because of that.
I had no special connection to him, other than the fact that I’d been transformed by him.
Parts of him still lived inside of me. The first drops of ichor in my blood had blossomed from the neon he breathed into my lungs.
But nothing else beyond that tied me to him.
Mason told me the only person I could possibly have a connection to was the angel that’d turned me into one of the Angelakia in the first place, but that wasn’t what mattered to me. I only cared about the person who’d transformed me into an angel.
I shut my journal without adding any new ideas to my pointless list of ways to bring Micah back to life, then laid down on my side, resting my head on my arm. Maybe there were more objects I could try in the future. There had to be.
My eyes blinked a few times as I tried to clear my vision of tears.
Mason wasn’t getting better.
Not in the way I always prayed he would.
Knowing things in theory was always so different than seeing them in reality, because this was it.
The Thrausian inevitability, chasing him down, following us both so closely I could hardly take a breath without worrying I’d lose him in the next moment.
He did his best to keep in control when I wasn’t around to protect him from his mind, from his desire to suffocate, but it would always be an uphill battle, and I wasn’t sure he wanted to keep trying much anymore.
I was so tired I wished I could sleep for a million years.
A billion.
A trillion.
Until the Earth burned and crumbled to nothing and I could stop existing, too.
I let myself lay on the ground for a few minutes, staring at lichen painted across fallen branches, mushrooms growing from dead wood, all the tiny leaves on a low fern, a brown feather with darker stripes resting on a bed of dry pine needles.
I remembered how different Heaven was than Earth, how nothing ever died like this.
How old the trees were, and how they never lost their leaves.
After those few minutes, I brushed my jeans off, then stood up and gathered my belongings.
I pressed my palm to Micah’s tree once more, extending my pointer finger to touch a shiny patch of sap.
Then I walked all the way back to the gas station, pinching my pointer finger and thumb together, then pulling them apart, over and over, feeling the stickiness of sap on my fingerprints the whole time.
Robotically, I pushed open the door to the gas station, the chime sounding above my head. Eric’s head lifted, his eyes finding mine. He was blinking fast, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he swallowed hard. Several hours had passed since I’d left.
“I’m sorry, Dakota,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I—”
“No,” I cut him off, my voice already back to wobbling. More sobs threatened to escape me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I…”
And I don’t know why I came back here. I think I need to try being a better person. At least to you.
“And I’m sorry,” I finished. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”
“You know, I just worry about you. I don’t like seeing you so sad all the time. I’m not trying to upset you more.”
I’m going to be sad forever.
“I know you’re not. I—I just don’t want a letter of recommendation right now. I don’t know when I’ll try to get a new job, but not yet.”
“That’s perfectly fine. There’s no rush.
You’re young. I only want to make sure I’m supportin’ you in whatever way you need.
And before you cut in here and tell me I’m not your father—let me tell you I’m aware.
I know your father. He’s a piece of shit.
I’m not trying to be anything other than here for you when you need it. Please don’t say that again.”
“You’re right.” A single tear slipped down my cheek as I nodded. “It was mean.”
“No—I understand you’re hurting. It’s alright.”
“It’s bullshit,” I said. “I’m lashing out.
I—um. Somebody…” My voice trailed off, more tears tipping over my lower eyelashes.
I stared out the window at the pothole-ridden parking lot, unable to meet Eric’s eyes as I spoke.
“Somebody died? Somebody I was…that I loved a lot. It was very unexpected and sudden.” I twisted my fingers together tighter, choking on the end of my sentence.
I dared to look over at Eric, heart pounding.
His face softened, his eyebrows relaxing with realization.
“I’m so sorry, Dakota.”
“It’s okay,” I lied. It wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again. “It was six months ago.”
“I figured that was when something happened.” He tilted his head.
“I don’t want to talk about it. At all. Okay?”
“Okay. You don’t have to. But please go sit in the office for the next thirty minutes at least. You haven’t taken a single break, and you’ve been here since dawn.”
“I just left for like three hours.”
Eric shook his head, his gaze far too sympathetic. “That wasn’t a break. Go sit down.”
“I want to sit outside and see if Bug is around,” I said.
“That works. Do you want a slushy or something?”
“Not today.”
I left through the back door and sat on the curb, but Bug didn’t come.