How can emptiness be so heavy?
—unknown
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Lost my Mind- Finneas
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AUDREY
The bookshop had gone quiet. It was the kind of dense quietness in which I found myself hoping that the bells would actually tinkle, that a customer would actually come in and pull me out of the murky void of thought I was gradually falling into.
But no, the deafening silence around me only grew and grew, like a terrifying venomous fungus.
I forced myself busy sorting out newly arrived orders. The boxes were conveniently located in a corner under the staircase and I happily buried myself inside the narrow region, feeling in need of hiding from something. Probably from my thoughts.
But how does one hide from her own thoughts?
I shook my head, my eyes shut.
It'd been two weeks.
Fourteen complete days.
Three hundred and thirty-six full hours.
Twenty thousand one hundred and sixty insufferable minutes. And not a single one slipped past without having thought about him.
It was inconceivable. The classes I shared with him were intolerable because all I could see and focus on was him. The classes I didn't share with him were even worse because still, all I could see and focus on was him.
I couldn't cope with the new indifferent expression he adopted for when our glances dared to cross. It was a cold look, a calculated look that fell at the midpoint between bitterness and total unconcern, but most importantly that pushed us apart to an impalpable distance.
What are you complaining about? Why aren't you happy? Wasn't that what you wanted? Wasn't that what you aimed for? Distance and space, lack of distractions?
Even the little voice in my head was annoyed with me. Aargh. I needed to get out of my mind. I needed to do something. Now.
I opened one of the boxes, my attention instantly flashing at the pack of identical thick novels right from the middle. Taking one out, I was immediately engulfed by the familiar fragrance of freshly printed paper, feeling like an experienced baker upon his freshly-baked baguette. It calmed me down. My fingertips caressed the paperback's glossy convex title lettering.
Atonement. I remembered hearing about it for ages, and being intrigued but for some reason still not making any attempt towards reading it. Almost involuntarily, my hands opened the silent story to its first page.
The play, for which Briony had designed the posters—
"Boo!"
My pulse leaped the moment two pairs of hands gripped my shoulders from behind, suddenly. "Ahh!!! What the—Dominic, for gosh's sake, was that really necessary?"
He shook his head and long curls along with it as he snickered, dimples protruding. "Didn't think you'd actually be so frightened of me. Who are you hiding from anyway? Clients, in need of attending?"
"Ha-ha, funny." I squirted a splash of sour sarcasm on him. "There barely've been customers today. For some reason."
"Really? What about the two waiting beside the cashbox. For a, you know, cashier to appear?"
The dread was quick to burst into my blood, but the hint of a smirk playing on his lips immediately reminded me who I was talking to. I let out a sigh of uncertain relief.
"I refuse to fall for another one of your stupid tricks."
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Refuse away. You're the one getting fired."
"Not in the mood to take your banter today, Dominic. Sorry," I mumbled, pulling my knees closer to my chest and burrowing my face deep into the book.
An almost imperceptibly slight soft seriousness flashed across his expression as he leaned against the staircase newel post, arms crossed over his chest. "Why? What's the matter, shortcake?"
"Nothing."
He sat down to be closer to me. "Come on. Might as well tell me about it."
His attentive eyes observed me patiently from under his thick lashes. They had a faint aquamarine tint playing about them that day, their usual intensity of green not as appreciable.
I was quiet for a long while. Then, not sure how to approach something as simple yet as complex as what I was feeling, I let out: "I think I broke something I didn't even know existed. And the worst of all is that the whole of is my fault," I spoke thoughtfully, mainly to myself, knowing how far Dominic would be from understanding me. "But it's too late now."
It was his turn to go thoughtfully quiet now, before coming out with: "Says who?"
"Mm?"
"Who says it's too late?"
"It's—uhh. It's too complicated to try to explain."
"Must be a way to uncomplicate it." Ah, there it was, Dominic's characteristic mentality to treating everything so simply and lightheartedly.
I heaved a sigh of helplessness, bringing the book to cover my face again.
"What are we talking about here? A person?"
I looked up unhurriedly, giving a nod that I'm not even sure he managed to perceive. When I started to formulate some response he interrupted.
"Listen, Audrey. Advice from someone who's known you for— what two, three years? You're spending too much time in here." He reached and gently poked my head. "Stop it with your overthinking. Just. . .go for it."
I raised my brows. "Go for what?"
"Well, for whatever it is that's troubling you and you can't explain me about. Probably talking sounds like a classical solution to all problems, no? And it's a person we're concerned about here so. . .voilà," he did a hand-opening gesture, "Why don't you just talk to. . .whoever it is?"
I froze for a couple of seconds, not blinking nor breathing, staring at him stunned. "How did you get all that from what I answered?"
He chuckled. "I know you better than you think, shortcake."
"You know, I was about to say thank you, but that last comment made me rethink it."
"I'll take that anyway." He winked. I shook my head at him, standing up and stretching. My shift was almost over.
Something in me stirred after his words. Of course, my skeptical and overthinker self was prone to discard his words and continue tying knots in my mind, but. . .you know what? Maybe for once in my life, I should adapt Dominic's carefree attitude and just "go for it". Maybe that would be the best solution.
Monday, I thought. Monday was in two days. Monday would come and I would walk up to Cameron and talk about it.
No more overthinking.
No more hesitation.
Just like that.
* * *
Monday came.
Cameron was still no where to be seen.
I didn't know that much about his academic life but enough to assume he was sufficiently responsible to not skip class just because. His absence had to have some valid cause. Nothing to worry about.
Like butter on toast, the valid cause spread itself into Tuesday as well. Still, nothing to worry about. Just two days.
Wednesday. At about midday, I gave up and messaged him. Of course, my attempts were futile—the texts weren't even delivered. Where did he have to be, to not even have a phone signal? Antarctica?
Thursday was when I officially was done pretending I wasn't concerned. My useless texts had developed into useless calls, inciting the anxiety I was feeling by now. The last time he was active appeared as Monday at 7:40PM . I wished I could say that information calmed me in the least. It was lunchtime and I was eyeing table after table rigorously while tapping my foot like mad; a scene that apparently prompted Syd's dazed facial expression.
"Girl, what's the matter with you?"
"What? Why?"
"Why? You're not just tense, Aud, you're hysterical. Here, have a carrot," she offered before dipping the slice into hummus. "Not like you're eating much from your own plate anyway," she threw my nearly untouched bowl of pasta salad a look.
"I'm not particularly hungry."
"That's cause you're all wrought-up. And you have been for this past week. But today has reached the extreme. I was gonna say something before but didn't want to, you know, press on you or anything. Since we supposedly tell each other everything and you would if you wanted to, sooner or later, right? Hey, are you even listening?"
I must have zoned out on her talking, even non-consciously because I was so busy looking about. She snapped me back to it. "Right. Okay, I'm sorry Syd, you're right. There is something going on. Kind of."
"I bet. You wanna talk about it?"
I breathed out a quick puff of air. "Well, you remember that guy, the one—you know, I introduced you to—"
"Cameron? Yeah, I do. Did you two have a fight or something?"
"No. Well, at least I didn't think we did. It's weird but basically, he hasn't been coming to school for a week. Almost a week. So yeah—"
"Oh, I see now. Did you try calling?"
"Yeah, of course. They all go straight to voicemail."
"Uhm. It's probably no big deal, though, don't panic so much. Maybe he's away."
"I'm not panicking."
She dashed me a look of pure disbelief. But almost immediately changed it into something more serious. "Listen, Audrey, perhaps this is bad timing but. . .what's the deal with you two?"
I chuckled bitterly. "Right at this stage, I genuinely don't know how to answer that, Syd."
"So you're not refusing that something is going on?"
Right then, Brent Garcia finally appeared, making his way through the cafeteria entrance. He was accompanied by two more guys and one girl, a cheerleader. I stood up abruptly.
"What happened?" Syd turned around.
"It's Brent."
"Uh-huh. So?"
"He's friends with Cameron. I should ask him if he knows anything."
Syd watched warily as I made no attempt of moving towards them. The people with him weren't exactly the nicest of our classmates and the idea of crossing with them willingly didn't excite me in the least.
"I can ask him for you," Syd suggested, reassuringly.
"No, it's okay. I'll do it." It was time to swallow my darn nerves and get over myself.
"I'm coming with you," she still added.
We made our way towards the cafeteria queue, where the group was standing.
I hate to admit but I was fairly nervous when they took note of me. "Brent?" My voice croaked. Get it together, girl.
Four pairs of pry eyes now trained on me, I proceeded, "Can we talk?" He pulled his dark brows together, clearly not expecting that. "Privately," I dared to add.
"Uhm, sure," he took the hood of this sweatshirt off, to reveal a perfectly fresh french crop. We walked away from the trio of eyes but their pressure on me didn't loosen a bit.
"Do you know anything about where Cameron might be?"
His eyes lit up, as if I'd just said what was on his mind. "I've been wondering that myself for the past few days."
"Does he not answer your texts either?"
"They're not getting delivered."
"And he didn't mention any unusual plans to you last week?" His head started shaking before I could finish the clause.
I probably sounded desperate by now. "I've told myself it's no biggie, but listen, Audrey, right?"
"Yeah."
"I could give you his address. If that'd be of any help."
I hesitated for a moment. It sounded like too much. Was it? I looked back at Syd, but she was too far to have overheard anything.
"Okay. That'd be real nice of you," I finally agreed. He waved it off and gave it to me.
At the end of the school day, I found myself about to give in to the never-ending discussion me and Syd had been having. She was insisting on driving me to Cameron's house.
"I repeat: I'm not letting my best friend wander around some new place on a cold, foggy day. I'm taking you there and that's final."
While my arguments ran out, hers did seem pretty reasonable, to be fair. It was quite foggy out there. A creepy kind of foggy. But as she drove, I noticed that the place wasn't as remote as I imagined but, in fact, vaguely familiar. It was the weather that made everything seem so obscure.
"Looks like we're here," she said, coming to a stop.
I opened the passenger's door. "Syd, thanks of course, but you've done enough already. I think you can leave me now. I know the way back home. I'll manage."
Syd supplied me with quite a glance. "You sure?"
"Absolutely."
Very unwillingly, she sighed but agreed. Having wished me luck and making me promise to text her then I got home, her car drove off. I watched the metallic vehicle shrink and get gradually swallowed by the thick, impenetrable fog.
I rushed towards the front door of the house it had to be, not having the patience for more indecisiveness. With no particular prepared words nor reasons, my frozen knuckles knocked the cold surface of the door.
It was frigid and I didn't have any gloves on me, my only protection from the acrid cold being a pair of black treggings, a wool sweater, and my favourite burgundy beanie.
Knocking another time, I chewed mindlessly on my lower lip, sinking my teeth into the lip balm-coated flesh as I waited for any response.
Any sign of life.
But all I was greeted with was the hollow hum of silence.
Obviously. What did I expect?
Hopeless and dejected, I turned around and started to trudge my way, struggling to accept the defeat.
All that was left now was to wait and hope. Wait and hope.
I took a last glimpse at the house before it dissolved in the greedy mantle of mist.
I was about to turn and head home when, suddenly, someone from behind clashed into me with full force, making us both almost fall.
"Ow!" We both barked simultaneously. The fog was dense and it made the vision drop almost to a null. But voices didn't have to be seen to be recognized.
And boy, did I recognize this voice.
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next chapter may or may not be a little exciting oop—
just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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