Day 139
Adam
We didn’t even try crossing the Mexico border once we saw the raging storm waiting for us down the road. Instead, we just looked at each other, not saying a word as I swerved the car around and headed back in the same direction we came from.
I can tell Eve needs some quiet after being so freaked out yesterday, so when the afternoon rolls around, I pause at the tallest building I can see in the city sprawling around us. Is it Albuquerque? I’m not sure. The specific location doesn’t hold much meaning.
“Why are we stopping?”
“It’s not on the bucket list, but I thought we could take a look at the view.” I open her door for her. “Come on.”
We take the elevator of the skyscraper all the way to the top floor. I can hear her breath tearing out from her when we step outside onto the rooftop. The city might be silent, but the orange of the sunset is already bleeding into dark pink, and even across the industrial landscape, it’s beautiful.
“I wish we could see more stars,” she says softly as we stand there, not too close to the edge, but just close enough to watch the stagnant city sprawled below us. “But it’s good the city lights are still working, I guess.”
It’s the longing in her voice that gives it away. “Could you see the stars from your window at home?”
She blinks rapidly and nods. “The entire sky, sometimes.”
“Do you still think about them?” I ask her after a long moment of silence, and almost immediately, I regret it. It’s a stupid question. Of course she does; they’re her family.
“I try not to. But yeah, I do.” She looks over the city. “Mostly about what we missed, though. Things we’ll never get to have.”
“I used to do that, too,” I share as I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “I know it’s hard not to, but trust me, it’s not… constructive.”
“I know.” Her little smile is sad. “I can’t help it, though. They’ll never see what a badass I’ve become.” She flexes her barely-there bicep and I huff out a laugh.
“They would have been proud.” My fingers brush over her goosebump-riddled skin. The dark pink in the sky is purple, now, blue slowly taking over as the day turns into night. We should head back down soon, but I don’t want to let go of her.
“They’ll never meet you,” she says quietly, and my heart can’t help but stutter.
I can understand that melancholy, now. Imagining it brings a tightening to my chest.
I know she didn’t have a partner in the last few years, but I still can’t help but ask. “Did they meet your other…” I search for the proper word, while also trying not to be jealous of who guys who were probably no more than high schoolers. “Boyfriends?”
“No.” Eve shakes her head with a hint of a smile. “But, come on. Boyfriend?” She looks over at me with a lifted brow. “That’s not what you are.”
“Um.” We’ve never really had that conversation, since the apocalypse makes labels seem a little redundant. “Well, I guess that—”
“You’re more than that,” she states as if that’s all there is to it. Her head rests against my shoulder, and she leans into me, her body curling into my own. “So much more.”
I can’t help but agree.
We have a view of what feels like the world, from up here, but it feels like my world narrows down to the sound of those words on her lips and the weight of her in my arms. I wouldn’t really care if the outside world burned to the ground as long as she stays here with me, unharmed.
I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend, either. I don’t think there’s a word out there that could describe what she is to me.