Retrospect

Fifty-two

   "So where do you live?" I asked, turning to see him looking out the window in my kitchen.

   "Apartment in Barnie," he answered simply. He looked back at me. "Oh, did you know they might be renaming this section?"

   I wandered over to my living room. "No."

   "Yeah, since my dad's dead, some other guy owns it now," he told me, leaning against my counter. He fell silent then, looking around my kitchen. I sat down stiffly on the couch, watching him take interest in my appliances like they were made of gold.

   "Are you doing okay?" I decided to ask, knowing Miles was still thinking about his father.

   I saw him shrug. "Doing better than I thought I'd be actually," he said. "Sometimes I see him though, when I'm asleep. Got these weird nightmares with him in them." He turned to look at my fridge, then ultimately walked out of the kitchen.

   "I know how that is," I admitted, thinking of all those strange dreams I'd had of my parents when they'd been missing.

   "Reeves has been in them too," Miles mumbled, stepping into the living room where I was. "It's always me trying to save him from something." He rubbed the back of his neck and I saw him glance at one of my chairs, then look at me.

   "Do you want to sit down?" I said. He was just hovering there, clothes still damp from the rain. I could hear it pouring outside, drops pelting the metal fire escape.

   "Only if you don't mind water all over everything," he replied with a smirk.

   I smiled. "I don't mind, it'll dry."

   With that, Miles sat heavily in the chair diagonal from me and sighed. "Thanks," he said tiredly, then looked over at me. "So what have you been up to?"

   Me crying on the rooftop of my apartment building was the first thing I thought of. Eating leftover pizza was the second thing. I really hadn't been up to much except thinking about Mom and Dad's double funeral coming up and Reeves' the day after. It was going to be a pretty depressing week and I didn't really want to bring the mood down. But I guess Miles noticed how my shoulders slumped along with my lack of words because he sat forward then in the chair, tilting his head a bit.

   "What's wrong?" he asked.

   I didn't answer right away, a lump forming in my throat, which prompted him to fill the silence. "Is it because I'm ruining your chair?" he said all seriously, but I knew he was joking since he couldn't keep a straight face. All I could manage was a weak smile, tears building in my eyes as I kept my gaze trained on my feet. I appreciated how he was trying to make me laugh, but it didn't seem to be working very well. "No really, Cory," I heard him say, "what's wrong?"

   "I don't know," I whispered into the room. I risked a glance up at him and saw that his eyes were fixed on me. "It just feels different here, now that I know where my parents are. And then I'm gonna have to see their faces again at the funeral and I don't know if I'll be able to keep it together," I told him. "It's just like when I heard they were dead the first time. I have to go through it all over again."

   Miles was looking at me like I was an injured animal, all helpless, and in a way I guess I was. At least right now. I'd never really had anyone to talk to or rely on before I met the others, so admitting stuff like this was fairly new and strange to me.

   "I'll go with you, if you want," he said after a moment. "To the funeral."

   I turned away from him and wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeve.

   He continued. "Murl and I are going to Reeves' funeral too so I'm sure I'll be able to make it to another one."

   Miles' kindness was luring the rest of my tears out of me, so before I became a sobbing mess, I had to change the subject. "How's Murl doing?" I asked quietly.