The pop cans cracked, and hissed, as we opened them. The sun streamed on to the meadow, and the sun was pleasant against my face. I stretched, sighing, over the blanket. Laura rested her cheek against mine.
“Marla.” She blinked. “This is all going to be over in the fall, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” I propped myself on one elbow, and trailed a finger over her cheek.
She took my hand, sitting up. “But our parents.”
“We’ll just pretend, like before.” I shrugged. “It’s not forever, Marla. Another year of high school. And then we can get out of this backwater town.”
She took a gulp of pop. It sizzled. She set it down.
I sipped mine. It tasted of grape, the same as hers. “Want to see what mine tastes like?”
Laura placed a hand to her forehead. “What’s in this pop?” Her face drew in.
“Laura?”
“I feel strange.” Laura picked up the pop. She turned it. “There’s something wrong with my pop.”
“Let me taste it.”
“No!” Laura jumped to her feet. She trembled. “I’m burning up!”
“Laura!”
She clamped her head between her hands. “My head is going to explode!”
“Laura! Laura! Laura!” All I could so was shout. What do I do? What do I do? I’m useless. What am I supposed to do?
With a wail, Laura pitched to her knees.
I fumbled through my bag. I dug through lip balm, grocery lists, and cash. With a gasp, I pulled my phone out: there was no signal.
“Laura, come on!” I yanked her to her feet. I collected our bags, and Laura’s pop. I dragged her through the woods.
Laura collapsed.
“No!” I hovered over her. My hands trembled, useless. “Laura?”
I placed my ear against her mouth: warm breath tickled me. I drew back, frowning. Eyes closed, Laura slept. Her chest rose and fell. I clasped her hand between both of mine. It was cold. I brought the back of my hand to her forehead. She burned. Sweat pooled over her face.
It can’t be the pop. Maybe it’s a burst appendix?
Arms aching under the combined weight of our purses, I carried Laura along the trail. It felt like hours before I reached the truck. I set her in the passenger side; my hands trembled as I buckled her in. Greenery whizzed past me as I sped through the town. On entering the hospital lobby, my legs gave. Laura rolled over the floor. A sob hitched in my throat.
Nurses descended on us.
I waved them away. “Help her. Not me. I don’t know what’s wrong!”
Laura was wheeled away on a gurney. A nurse led me into a small blue room. I sank into a leather chair, hunching forward. A television the size of a watermelon sat on a nearby counter. News headlines flickered past. The anchor’s voice offered a comforting background hum.
I brushed the tears away, and sniffed.
A nurse came to me an hour later. “Your friend is stable.”
I glanced up. “What’s wrong with her?”
“All of her organs appear healthy. Brain activity seems normal. But we’ve begun blood work. I don’t believe she’s in any danger. But she may be in a coma. She could wake up tomorrow, or...”
“Or never again.” My voice was monotone. I stared at the floor. “Right?”
“I’m sorry, dear.”
I stood up. “Can I see her?”
“Not now. Her family has to see her first. We’ve called them.”
But I’m her family. I love her. She’s my fiancee. I nodded.
The call came three days later. I dabbed the canvas with blue paint. It crouched among the yellows and the purples. As I swirled my brush in the water, dyeing it, the phone rang.
I snatched it up, voice catching. “Hello?”
“Is this Marla Law?”
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Henderson thought you should know.” The woman paused. “Laura Henderson is dead.”
Sound fell away. The shapes in the room became indistinct, colourless. A grunting began in my throat. I cleared it. “Dead.”
“I am so sorry, Marla. Would you like to talk to any of the family?”
The phone slid from my hand. I fell backwards; I caught myself against the wall. My chest caved in on itself. I tugged at my overalls, gasping. My lungs ached, but my ribs squeezed. I took a ragged breath, and another. Each gulp of air burned. My fist ached, but it was frozen: the fingers, wound through my overalls, wouldn’t move. They couldn’t, because if they did...
With a scream, I shoved the canvas over. The easel splintered in several directions. Paint splattered the floor. I stared at the mess, unseeing. I shivered. I ran to the washroom, where I was ill. I sank to the floor, face glued there. I counted each breath. Sunlight filtered through, painting the edge of my hand. Dimly, I thought how nice it would be to paint the picture, but there was no interest in the thought.
I closed my eyes.
Something wet touched my cheek. Ice encased my body. I shuddered, and opened my eyes. Wind whined through the window. The curtains billowed inwards. Rain pooled below the sill. Droplets danced across my face. I sat up. My neck ached, and it was dark.
I shut the window. Then, noticing the smell, I flushed the toilet. I brushed my teeth and splashed water over my face.
I opened the fridge, but my stomach churned at the thought of food. I shut the fridge and turned: Laura stared back at me.
I screamed.
There was a flicker, and light flooded the kitchen. Laura stood at the far end of the room, eyes closed, her chin tucked into her chest.
“Laura?” I shook my head. “Oh, Laura. Please tell me this is real. Or have I snapped? They told me you were dead.”
“I am dead.”
There was a silence.
I swallowed. “What?”
“I came to say goodbye, Marla.”
“Then this is a dream?”
“If that’s easier for you.”
“Laura, open your eyes. Let me see your face.”
She hugged herself. “I can’t.”
I dashed towards her. Laura gasped as I seized her in a hug. Then I drew back with a yelp. She was like a chunk of ice. I shuddered. Her wide eyes met mine, but she smothered my mouth before I could scream. She held me to her. She took her frigid hand away, and I exhaled.
I turned in her arms: her eyes were crimson, and a red tear slid down her cheek. I thought stupidly of my paints.
“Wh...”
“Do I have to tell you? You’ve seen the movies. You know how it works.”
I made a choking sound.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Marla.”
“Hurt me. Please.” I seized handfuls of her t-shirt. She was dressed in the same clothes she had worn when she died. “At least let me help you.”
“How could you help?”
“I could guard you by day.” I nodded. “I know what you are. You’ll need someone to keep watch when the sun comes up.”
“I thought you’d hate me. Or be afraid! That would be the common sense reaction.”
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I’ve read too much Twilight.”
“You should be the one.” Laura laughed. “You were always the one into Anne Rice. I couldn’t even stand blood.”
“Life is an irony.” I pulled her into a hug. “Please let me come with you. If you don’t, I’ll just spend my life searching.”
“And when I age, and you don’t?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Marla, I could kill you.”
I kissed her cheek. “I’m willing to take the risk. If you do hurt me, there’s always Plan B, right?”
“Don’t say that!” Her grip was strong. “I can’t do this to you. You’re a vegetarian!”
“Sorry. It was a joke. But I am coming.”
Laura drifted to the living room. It almost looked like she was floating. Her footsteps were soundless. When she sat on the couch, it didn’t sag at her weight. Her eyes bored into mine.
“You can come with me.” She looked away. “But it will mean abandoning your schooling.”
“I have a laptop. I can finish up online.” I took her hand, shivering at the iciness. “Maybe we would have run away anyways.”
She pulled me to her, so that I was snuggled into her side. She stroked my arm as she’d always done, and kissed the top of my head. She whispered short poems in my ear, and I giggled. They weren’t exactly elegant.
“We leave tonight.”
I sighed. “To the city.”
“Yes.”
“Not like I’m not moved out already.” I exhaled. “Sleeping in the car. Should be fun.”
“I’ll steal food for you if I have to.” Laura’s lips brushed my ear.
“And I’ll catch squirrels for you to drink...if I have to.”
She laughed. “I know you will, Marla. We should go.”
“Yeah, but just one more kiss before we do.”
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