supernova

30

It was the second week of July.

Atlas hadn't said a word to me for the last three weeks unless we were fucking.

The sex was kind of lame too, but I didn't say anything about it. He was distracted the entire time and was using sex as an outlet.

I wanted to do that too, but he seemed a lot more stressed than me.

You could say he was using me, and you'd be right. He was, but that's the whole point of the arrangement.

To use each other.

To use each other for sex.

To use each other as an outlet for our own problems, through sex.

I was sitting alone on the kitchen counter drinking a black coffee.

Something about it's bitterness was so addictively peaceful.

I had begun to prefer it over an iced coffee.

Something about sitting on kitchen counters was exhilarating.

It was probably because I was raised to not sit on the counter tops.

I should read the letter my mom left about junior prom.

I had been distracting myself with my summer homework to avoid cleaning her room or reading the letter.

Maybe I could read the letter.

A baby-step.

I took my coffee to my mom's room and sat on the bed.

I forgot the letters were in my room, so I went to get it. I head back to my mom's room.

I wanted to read it there.

Dear Arabella,

I don't know whether or not I lived for your junior prom. If you're reading this, I'm obviously dead.

If I died before your prom, you're probably wearing a sparkly fitted black dress with a sexy slit reaching your mid thigh. I know you pretty well.

If you didn't find a dress with a slit, you probably had someone do it for you.

As your mom, I'm supposed to say have fun, but not too much fun, but I don't want to say that.

Just stay safe. Have all the fun you want, just be cautious.

When your dad and I were juniors in highschool, we went to prom together. 

It was the first time we talked about having kids.

I told him I loved the name Isabella for a girl and he said he liked the name Ariana.

Arabella was the compromise, and it was the perfect choice.

I wanted Aiden for a boy, and he wanted Jack.

We never compromised there, we just decided to figure it out.

There's not much advice I can give you here.

Stay safe, and have fun.

You are a work of art.

Yours Truly,
Leonard Timothy Turner and Anaya Nguyen Turner.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

She barely said anything, but it had just hit me that she had letters for me for the rest of my life.