Why is the Sky Sad?

All he had to do was wake up. If he just woke up things would go back to normal and he wouldn’t be standing here. His heart wouldn’t be racing, his hands wouldn’t be sweating and his head wouldn’t be pounding. In dreams like this, frequently crossing his unconscious mind, everything was saved when he blinked open his eyes and came face to face with reality. The only problem was, they were open and he wasn’t unconscious.

“So this is Austen, Jake, Lily…” Emma’s voice drifted in his ear over the obnoxiously loud music, listing names to faces. It was impossible, feeling like this, that he’d ever remember them.

“Callie and Beatrice.”

His skin grew itchy, ready to melt from his skin into a puddle on the floor. He needed to go. Now.

“Call me Bea.”

James glanced at the girl with the southern draw, his eyes flickering down her body. She was small and by the looks of things completely intoxicated. The realization that this entirely to small building wasn’t only full of people, but drunk people, made the vomit climb his throat faster than he thought possible.

Not saying a word, he covered his mouth with a moist palm and pushed through the crowd in hopes of a near escape. In the end all he could find was a vacant, and thankfully nearby bathroom. The place smelled rotten, and something sticky had been spilled on the tile floor. It was something he had never thought could cause so much joy.

The chunks of a dinner he hadn’t finished, fought their way, minute after endless minute, from his gurgling stomach into the porcelain toilet. He didn’t know how long it was before he calmed down, his labored breathing somewhat back to normal. But in all honestly, he hoped it’d been hours. He hoped everyone, all those faces had left and he was back to being truly alone.

Because sometimes simplicity was all he wanted.



So much for the plan.

Emma glanced longingly at the vodka shots, mere feet away from her lips. Five dollars, a couple of steps and a few drinks away she’d be cured from herself. But, looking at the spot James had disappeared too, she knew her happiness would have to wait. It wouldn’t be right to forget about him and dance her worries away. It’d be a lot easier, sure, but wrong. Totally wrong.

“He was hot,” Bea slurred, balancing her tiny body on Emma’s arm, “Who was he again?”

“Someone from grade school,” was her automatic response, drilled into her brain hours ago, “I better go see if he’s all right.”

She glanced one more time at the bar, watching all those people forget about reality, and sighed. Later, she promised herself. Soon.

“No,” Bea stepped in front of her friend, “Let me.”

Emma didn’t know what she was talking about; ready to snap at the poor drunk girl. She didn’t really want to deal with her at the moment. Not at all.

“Let you what Bea?” Her voice was already strained. If she were trapped in this conversation any longer she didn’t know what she’d do. Murder someone, probably.

“I’ll talk to him. Trust me, I can make anyone lighten up.”

Her first thought was a definite no. As in no way, no how. But then she thought about it, truly let that possibility run across her mind. Skipping over the blatant sexual innuendo, she couldn’t find a reason to actually say no. Other than jealously. Which was just ridiculous. And Bea was really good with people.

“Emma, trust me.”

It may have been the pure thirst; hungry need for that drink talking but Bea could handle it. Jake had been extremely shy before meeting her too, it could do James some good.

“Okay go talk to him then.”

Bea’s face lit up and she rushed to kiss Emma’s cheek. Then she, too, disappeared into the crowd not one ounce of her drink spilling to the floor.



Maria had been standing outside his door for the better part of two hours, thumbs fighting beneath the protection of her fingers. The courage to see her normal husband had been nothing compared to this, barley a scare. He, of course, had forgiven her absence with a simple kiss. But that was Richard, perfect Richard, and her son was a completely different story.

He didn’t let people close to him; he didn’t let people make mistakes. Not when it meant abandoning him. Being his mother, his friend was hard enough when he was a child. But now after her disappearance and his disappointment it’d be virtually impossible.

She turned; ready to leave this for another rainy day. He spent years without the support of his mother, he could go another day. Right? And then she turned back around, face to face with the door. She twirled the ring on her finger, twisting and turning for a number of minutes.

He needed her. She should respect that and be a mother. A damn good one. One more twirl, one more breath and she reached her knuckles tapping lightly on the polished wood.

“James?”

Silence.

“James, sweetie, it’s your mom.” Her voice was shaking with nerves and she prayed he couldn’t hear.

“Sweetie?”

She gently nudged the door with her foot. It creaked open, revealing a carefully organized bedroom that looked more like a library than anything else. A library with a bed.

“James?”

Glancing around the room of he son’s, she only knew on thing for certain. He wasn’t in it.



“Well hello there.”

James glanced at the blonde, already cringing at her smile.

“I’m Bea, remember?”

He slowly nodded; recognizing the girl Emma called Beatrice. He had remembered who she was as soon as she had entered the room, and he didn’t really care. He just wanted her to leave.

He didn’t lift his gaze to the pretty girl, studying the tiles, trying to keep his breath steady instead. It was growing faster by the minute. She was surely going to laugh soon.

“You feeling alright?”

Again all he gave was a nod, staring at the bathroom floor he sat on. Thankfully, strangely it had stayed relatively empty. Of course it was the handicapped bathroom and smelled worse than a barn, but he figured people would still crowd the place. Apparently not.

“It must be strange, the first time at a club. I remember feeling so self conscious, it totally sucked. But you know what helped me?”

Go away, I don’t care, James thought mentally though saying nothing out loud.

“Do you?”

He shook his head, looking up at her cheek. He didn’t dare lock eyes with this stranger.

“Knowing that they were all so drunk they couldn’t tell me from an elephant. Also, you know…”

She trailed off, as James leaned forward finally intrigued.

“Getting smashed.”

She shoved a cup, filled to the brim with bubbling liquid, at James as if to make her point.

“Drink it.”

He gingerly took the beer from her grasp, ready to escape himself for once. Maybe this was the only way he could. He brought it to his lips, Bea nodding encouragingly, and he took a swing.