It's time for another Friday installment of RC's story. For those who've missed prior entries, you can find the entire story on this PAGE.
Memoirs
From the End of the World
Entry
#25
RC sat alone on the chilled porch of
their current home. Not that she thought
of it as home in any traditional sense.
The fact that she shared this dwelling space with her fellow strays was
about the closest to home she could manage.
This porch was a sorry sight to
behold. Fully enclosed, it provided some
shelter from the elements, as well as some kind of shield from the prying eyes
of anyone who might happen by. The storm
windows, cracked and filthy, drew attention to the structure’s disuse. Yet it also allowed enough light to spill
through and onto Romero’s exposed pages.
She balanced him in her lap, trying to drudge up the right words to
express all that she was feeling.
Dear
Romero,
The pen hovered over the page, motionless
for many moments while RC tried to move beyond those perfunctory first words.
I
won’t lie to you. I don’t want to go
back there, though I understand why we have to do this. We go to bed a little hungrier each
night. Maybe we are just in a bad patch
of town, and maybe if we moved just a little in one direction, we’d stumble
across a huge stockpile of food.
Unfortunately,
with so many mouths to feed, we can’t take the chance of waiting and hoping.
She paused again, filled with shame about
what she felt at that moment. Should she
confess this unpleasant, spiteful thought as well? She did intend to be honest when she started
writing in this diary, but putting words to paper meant someone could
eventually see it.
Don’t
be a coward, RC scolded
herself. If you can’t be honest here, what’s the point of even writing in here
in the first place?
If
I were on my own right now, I’d be doing just fine in terms of food. I wouldn’t need to risk my life like
this. It might be wrong, but there are
times when these thoughts make me angry at the people around me. I almost resent them.
Almost.
When
I start to feel bitter, I remember that I was once so desperate for human
contact that I named my diary. (Sorry
Romero, you’ve been great, but you are, at the end of the day, incapable of
responding to me.) I remember that I
didn’t have anyone to watch my back. I
didn’t have anyone to give me a much needed hug at the end of a long day.
Even
with all the drawbacks to being part of a larger group, I know I can’t leave
them. Isabel is living proof of how bad
things could be, and yet she still managed to make a place for herself
here. After a few weeks with us, she’s
even started to smile and crack jokes.
Her strength reminds me that I can also stay sane if I work at it.
Ollie’s
been more pleasant too. Since recovering
from his illness, he’s ceased making any kind of play for me. He even apologized for his bad behavior. I do wonder how much that apology has to do
with Isabel’s arrival, though she certainly hasn’t expressed any romantic
interest in him. Not that I know of, at
least.
As
for Alyx,
RC stopped abruptly. She nervously bit the end of the pen as she
considered what the truth here might be.
So much of their time together consisted of struggling to survive. They gathered, they cooked meals, they took the
time to tend to the needs of the others.
And yet, late at night after everyone else went to sleep, he was her
greatest source of comfort. He’d put his
arms around her and together they would fill the hours with personal stories
and aspirations. RC didn’t feel
comfortable talking about the future she feared she wouldn’t have with anyone
else, but while alone with Alyx, it felt okay.
She pressed her pen to paper once more.
.
. . I think I might love him. I’m not
sure, because I’ve never felt anything like this before.
That’s
part of why this mission is so scary for me.
It’ll just be me, Alyx, and Ollie.
(Isabel’s staying behind to look after the kids. She said right up front that she wouldn’t,
under any circumstances, go back to that house.
I honestly can’t blame her for that.)
I know Alyx. He’ll do anything he
can to protect both of us. If
anything happens to him
No,
I won’t think about that. I can’t think
about that. If we’re going to do what we
need to do to survive, I can’t worry about what might happen until it actually
does happen.
“It’s almost time to go.”
RC looked up to see Alyx standing in the
doorway. She admired his long dark hair,
which he’d tied back in a ponytail.
Everyone had long hair at this point, but she thought his hair, being so
smooth and soft, was perfect the way it was.
“I know.”
She quickly signed a quick farewell to Romero and shoved him into her
backpack. Then she stood and looked at
him for a long moment. The emotions she’d
worked up with her fruitless worries tugged at her.
If
anything happens to him . . . That infernal thought wouldn’t leave her
mind. Before she could stop herself, she’d
closed the distance between them and firmly pushed him against the frosty wall. She had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him
properly, because this wasn’t going to be any normal kiss. This kiss was fueled by all of her fears,
desires, and doubts about the world, all rolled up into one feverish emotion
she couldn’t quite identify. And soon he
was returning the kiss with the same fervor, his arms pulling her tight against
his body, a welcome warmth flooding through her.
When she pulled away, she felt slightly
unsteady. Looking into his eyes, she
whispered, “Just in case.”
Go to Entry #26
Go to Entry #26
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