𝑨𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑭𝑻, jj maybank

TWENTY-SEVEN - calamity

TWENTY-SEVEN —— calamity

The headlights of Bee's truck provided the only light on the road, two weak spotlights racing ahead, both on the brink of burning out. Something in the bed of the truck rattled behind the four teenagers and every time they passed over a bump in the road, their shoulders collided, bone cushioned only by skin and muscle. The four friends sat in a row on the bench intended for only two, maybe three if they sat close. Bee's foot weighed heavy on the pedal as she sped down the road, away from her home, away from the argument that had left embers blistering in the pit of her stomach and saltwater prickling at her tear ducts, threatening to spill over.

Bee felt JJ's worried eyes linger on her, felt Kiara's soft hand rest on her shoulder, knew Pope was staring out of the passenger window, unable to think of an answer to solve the equation that was Bee's complicated relationship with her mother.

Kiara tilted her head. "Bee, are you—"

"I'm fine." But the lie came too quick, too easily, and for once, her friends knew she was fibbing.

"I'm proud of you for speaking up," Kie finally said, hesitant. Bee blinked. Nodded. Kie sighed. "Parents are tough. I mean—hey, we all know that."

Bee pursed her lips. She hated complaining about her mother because she knew that JJ's situation was far worse, that Ana Flynn was a warm, sunny afternoon compared to Luke Maybank. But the words fell from her mouth anyway, the pent-in thoughts finally making an appearance for her friends after years of being locked away in the deepest depths of her mind. Thought's they'd never been an audience to before.

"I know she cares, but she never shows it unless it's to yell at me or scold me about not being safe. Ever since my dad died, she's been this person who I used to share memories with, share unconditional love with, but now?" Bee swallowed hard, shook her head slightly. Eyes trained on the road ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Now, she's like a fucking ghost, drifting in and out whenever she wants or needs. Never when I need her or when Felix needs her."

No one knew how to respond, until Pope said, his tone flat, factual, "It's the fourth stage of grief."

"Dude," Kie said, shooting him a glare.

"No, seriously," Pope insisted, sitting forward. "Depression. Stage four. It's normal after a death. Your mom's in a state of removing herself from reality, probably feels kinda numb. She's been through denial, anger, and bargaining, so..."

"What's next, then?" Bee asked. "It's been years and she's still on stage four, which is apparently depression. So after that, it's what, even more despair and neglect?"

"No." She saw Pope shake his head in her peripheral. "There's only one more stage. Acceptance."

༄ ･ ｡ﾟ

"He's pinched for sure."

Bee opened her eyes to JJ's voice and sunlight streaming in through The Wreck's vast windows. She blinked, adjusting to the brightness, her eyes still grainy from her lack of sleep.

"No," said Pope. "They wouldn't still be patrolling if they caught him."

"Let's hope."

Bee yawned and sat up to see the two boys gazing outside. Kie was just waking up as well, her arms raised above her head in a lazy stretch.

"You know, we were in that car," Kie said. "They're probably looking for us, too."

Bee nodded. "Good thing we have my truck now, they won't notice us as easily."