cursing out the moon ➵ a.b.

Chapter 26: Dead is the Girl You've Come to Love

It had been four weeks, and Andy had not kept his promise. Well, not entirely, anyways. The first week was rather cute and happy-go-lucky in nature. Our phone calls were full of sincere and heartfelt "I love yous," and "Promise you'll never leave mes." Of course, like all cupcake phases, ours began to fade after a period of time.

The second week I began to have nightmares, and each one was more disturbing than the last. Most of them took place in court-themed settings, Karliah always present as a mighty judge. I told him of them, and we would talk till the daylight hours as I cried to him. I wore him out; we both knew that. He was touring--he needed his sleep and rest for the next day. My silly emotions (which I didn't know how to handle), wouldn't allow that. I can only imagine what I did to the poor man.

And as the third week rolled around, I began to distance myself from him, scared I was going to ruin it all. He needed time to rest, tour, and see his adoring fans. I began to wonder if he loved me more than them. Jude was admitted to the hospital that week. I visited her quite frequently and often. She would always tell me, "Keep your spirits high, little lady," as she herself was slowly letting go.

By the fourth week, Jude had passed away. I don't remember the exact date, but I do remember what Nyree said her last words were: "And...here I go..." It was such an strange phrase for such a strange woman. I will never forget Jude Heavensgale--ever.

That week, death was in the air. It was so prominent you could smell it. Andy's calls stopped rolling in; his texts were few and far in between. They would read things such as, "Sorry I missed you. Are you awake?" but it never would arrive when I was, or at least in a mood to talk. Those kinds of texts would arrive at 1 AM, me shivering in the corner of my desolate bedroom, cowering in fear at every little noise. I wouldn't answer them...ever. If I did, we'd end up talking till 6 AM, and he'd be dead tired for the next day.

But one day that week, it was different. It was almost October, crisp breezes settling down on the LA area. I remember that night: it was clearer than Andy's perfect baby-blue eyes. The moon was out, and I was crying softly--I had woken up from a nightmare. The text arrived around 11:30 PM, earlier than usual.

Andy: Hey, Alex. You've been ignoring me. Guess what? I'm free tomorrow; we can talk to our hearts' content tonight.

Alex: I've missed you. I'm sorry I'm a burden.

Andy: Never in a million years will I consider you a burden. Also, have you any bad dreams you'd like to discuss?

Alex: I just woke up from one.

Andy: What was it about?

Alex: You.

Andy: What about me, love?

Alex: You lost your smile.

Andy: How come?

Alex: You were dead.

Andy: Dead? I'm very much alive.

Alex: My mother killed you. She didn't approve of you. She said you were unholy and a demon of Satan.

Andy: Is your mother usually that harsh?

Alex: No, and that's what's confusing me. Maybe I fear she will reject you.

Andy: Or maybe you fear that you'll never see me again, hence the death scene.

Alex: I don't want you to die.

Andy: Well, neither do I.

Alex: How long do you have left of your tour?

Andy: Little more than a month or so.