Fading Days of Red- Part 2

by Danyelle Hershkopf

To read Part 1, click here.

Brandon put his pen down. “That was a good place to start,” he said, as I chugged down a glass of water. He smiled, and wrote down some more.
I checked the clock. Brandon looked up with me. “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” he asked.
“No, Mr. Fraiser,” I replied. “I-I mean, Brandon. Yeah. That.”
“Alright. So, to recap, you’re here because…?”
“Because my girlfriend died five months ago.”
Brandon shook his head. “That’s not a reason.”
Of course it wasn’t. It was a fact, the legend of the equation of our meeting. If I knew why I was here, I wouldn’t have come, obviously.
“Well, it was my idea to do this,” I added. Brandon just nodded and jotted something down in his marble notebook again.
I squirmed in the lime green loveseat as Brandon fired off some questions. Most were about Ruby-Scarlet’s friendship with me, and how we started dating, which made no sense to me. It’s not like one of those crappy novels my best friend pretends he hates but reads nonetheless. We didn’t crash into each other in the hallways or go stargazing or have long talks about the…oh right. We did talk about the universe. Well, I did.
I told Brandon that, and how I talked about math in the world: statistics, theories, even quantum mechanics. He didn’t add much to the conversation; just wrote and asked for the occasional elaboration. By the time our hour-long meeting was done, I had described even the most trivial things about myself and Ruby-Scarlet. How she used to prick her fingers when trying embroidery, and would wag them saying to watch out for any briar growing. Brandon thanked me and shook my hand before I slinked out of the room.
My phone buzzed immediately after I left. I fumbled to get it out of my pocket, and looked at the Caller ID. John Blackwood. Chuckling to myself, I pressed “accept” and walked out of the doctor’s office.
“Well how did it go?” John asked before I could even say, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Okay, I guess. He prefers to be called Brandon,” I said. “I suppose it’s to make me feel more open, or whatever.”
“Good, good,” John said. “Did he seem helpful?”
As I took out my car keys, I rolled my eyes. The Inquisition was to commence. John needed to relax. “He’s fine,” I said.
“Don’t be so damn salty, Atticus,” John snapped, and sighed. “Sorry. Anyways, what are you doing next weekend? Yulian Stroganoff is throwing a party, and he asked me to ask you if you wanna come.”
“Why couldn’t he have asked me himself?”
“Because no offense, but you’ve been…distant to others. That’s ok, by the way, but you know Yulian. He’s afraid of asking for PB&J in the cafeteria.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I just got into my car, and sat there. For a moment, we didn’t speak, and it seemed like we weren’t even breathing. The only thing that was there was the elephant in the car. Finally, I sighed.
“I’ll go,” I said through only semi-gritted teeth, which irked me even more. I shouldn’t be debating on whether to go to a party as if it were a matter of life and death. Since I qualify for the “life” part, I at least can make these decisions. I nearly scoffed at myself, moping over whether people felt comfortable enough to talk to me. I’m alive for them to talk to.
“Oh!” John said, “Well. Um, I’ll tell him. Great.”
“Yeah, I gotta go now. Driving home.”
“’Kay. Drive safe,” John said. The phone clicked, and I set it on the seat next to me. If it fell, tough.
As I drove home, I passed that beach. Trying to ignore it, I focused on what John said.
Huh. Drive safe.
Yeah, wouldn’t want me screwing up and letting someone die. Again.