chapter 2

NOAH

The meal I rustled up was narrowly edible. I placed the melamine plate, holding a gloomy bland fish, on the table before her.

“I know it’s barely edible, but this is all that was present; no one lived here for over a long time, so we don’t have any groceries stocked.”

“Oh, it’s more than enough. Thank you.”

The girl sited on the couch wordlessly, consuming the fish flake by flake, unveiling no expressions. She was stern.

Seeing her limp out of the house, I said, “It’s totally okay if you want to stay here until you can walk properly.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? The weather doesn’t look so appealing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

A dense layer of dark clouds concealed the sky; as the howling of gales worsened, she gradually diminished into the dark forest.

I admired the hefty picture frame right before my eyes. It covered almost entire wall. I skimmed off the accumulated dust particles over dad’s nose.

Life is a harsh truth; it abandons you with the last thing you ever wanted. 7-year-old Jenny gripping dad’s wrist with one hand and endeavoring to adjust her enormous stuffed bear in the frame with the other one. Coco was visible from the gap between my legs, lapping the water from the dish, and there I was, cheeks puffed, sagging on the armrest of the chair dad perched on.

Jenny was the bossy one. She always boasted about being 77 seconds older than me. I was fine with it. My throat closed up.

There weren’t any groceries in the house, and I was famished; the sky yelled that those clouds would begin to weep heavily any time soon. Going to bed on an empty stomach would do me no good but a troublesome sleep. As I darted out to the car, dark grey pillows in the sky started sprinkling tiny droplets of water. Before those minute droplets transfigure into a rainstorm, I needed to return. I turned the key in the ignition without a whine the engine started. Beautiful showers turned into daggers from the sky as my car flashed through the woods. Driving further would’ve been perilous as the view before my eyes was gradually blurring. I dashed out of the forest; my house was visible. Just when I shut the car’s door, a swaddled squeal glided into my ears. It was coming from the lake. Dashing to the lake, squinting my eyes, I discovered a woman in the distance throwing her hands in the air crying for help.

I plunged into the lake, kicking my legs and stroking the water. I struggled to hold her up, to keep her from drowning. It was that girl I met earlier! Her face reddened. It appeared that she was about to pass out.

As I pulled her out of the lake, a bolt of lightning struck a tree that stood a couple of miles from us. We sprinted into the house.

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked her.

She answered while pressing her face with the towel, “ye … yes. Thank you for saving my life.”

The intense lightning soared through the sky like a silver snake creating a deafening noise. The storm hadn’t calmed yet. On top of that, the sky was concealed by a thicker layer of grey clouds now.

She decided to stay until the storm calms, and stepping out of the house is safe. I told her that she could stay downstairs in mom’s room.

I climbed up the stairs to Jenny’s room. A cream-colored fancy queen bed sat over a sheer pink wool carpet. Glass windows stretched from the ceiling to the ground. That thunder-struck tree was still visible, on fire. I stretched the curtain over that view.  Walls were covered in grey and white matte paint alternatively, and a light brown wooden side table was placed between the bed and bathroom behind the room's door.

Little Jenny sprinted through my body, chasing 3-year-old me; I vanished. Jenny started lingering around me in circles. My muscles tightened up, jaw clenched, and I started breathing heavily, unable to move. I felt Beads of sweat rolling down my temple.

“You know what to do, Noah; we can’t stay parted.”

“Hey, you didn’t give me the keys to that room,”

That woman’s words yanked me back to reality.

“Oh, you’ll find them hung beside that picture in the lounge.”

I arranged my clothes in Jenny’s wardrobe and accessories in her chiffonier. Every step forward in this house tossed a recollection of the good old days when we used to visit here as a family every vacation.

I opened my eyes to the rising sun casting a rosy tinge across the morning sky. Golden fingers of sunlight brushed over my eyelids. The just-risen sun glimmering on the dense greenery. My ears contended with the sound of the morning breeze in the trees and the rustling of leaves. Birds were chirping a sweet melody. Mom used to love the joys of this lake house. That was one of the reasons why dad bought it in the first place. I rolled over to the other side of the bed and rose to my feet.

Today felt amazing. I splashed my face with a handful of water then climbed down the stairs and picked up my car keys off the coffee table before the couch and left for the nearest convenience store to get the groceries. Even the nearest store was at least a dozen miles away. It was funny how I had accidentally met that girl twice, she slept in my house, and still didn’t know her name. The thought of informing her crossed my mind, but I was hesitant to wake her up from a peaceful sleep.

The grass outside was still wet. It must have been raining all night. Our aunt used to say that rain was tears from the sad clouds. And against that dad said, “this is all crap. There is heat, and water evaporates. It goes up in the sky. Condenses. Comes down as rain. Boom! Science.”

I whipped out my phone to check for the directions to the store. Ugh! No signal. I drove through the forest anyway, hoping to find something in the city.