Mint Colored Eyes

I sat alone on a swinging bench. This time dressed in a far warmer coat than last time. A foot of un-shoveled snow covered what was once the patio. I could spot where the fire pit once was, as well as the chairs we forgot to take back inside in the fall. It was a perfect blanket of glistening snow, that now had one trial of heavy foot prints coming from the back door. I had ruined the beauty of the scenery.

The frozen chains creaked loudly as I rocked the bench forward and back. I had woken it from its frozen slumber and cleaned off all the snow on the long wooden planks. It was large enough for two, but only I was brave enough to trek out in the zero degree weather. It was the perfect spot to think and get some air from the many people who lived inside. Even if the wind made it feel colder, I was already at that odd numb point after being outside so long.

Soon enough heard a swing of a door and some crunching of snow. I only sat with my eyes closed and listened to the owner of the noise walk towards my direction. Even when they reached me, I never stopped rocking the bench.

“Can I sit here?”

I slowly leaned forward, my nose going further into my scarf and shifted a couple of centimeters to a new spot of wet wood. A new weight joined the creaking bench and we sat in silence for a bit. Only cold iron and annoying crows added any sound. Soon the creaking stopped as my guest placed their feet on the ground, forcing it to stay still.

“Micah I am sorry. A thousand times I am sorry. Just all of this crap with Dad and the Feds is just.... just...” her voice trailed off as she turned from me and started rocking the bench again, “I should have not called you sick and delusional.”

I could hear a sniff. She probably had tears in her eyes. I slowly opened one and looked at her. She was dressed in many layers and had her long bed hair sticking out of a ski cap. She even wore a guard's boots out here. I close my eyes again and give a small smile.

“Audrey,” her eyes were big, hopeful, and terribly tired, “I know I am sick. And delusional. And plenty of other things. I hear it every day. Many times a day.”

Her pencil thin eye brows sunk on her face and she tipped her head towards the ground.

“But not from me.”

“Where were you Monday when you were screaming at me for losing your keys?” I looked back and forth and gave a laugh and a smile.

“I've been friends with you far longer than I have been like this. I know you enough to know when to let things go.”

She gave a small smile but kept her gaze to the ground. She still felt bad. I knew that some of my “imaginations” could be quite hard to manage. The words may have still burned, and part of me wondered if they were true somewhere deep down. Though at this moment, I would forget. Forget and live my life, trying to get better. I pushed off the bench and stood in one big exaggerated motion. I stretched my arms up high and cracked my knuckles while doing so. After letting my hands fall back down to my side I turned to see Audrey still rocking in the seat. She was still so small, just the way I met her all of those years ago.

“So...” she finally said looking up, “friends?”

“Forever plus one.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Not even close.”

She scoffed at the comment, her open mouth turned up at the ends wondering if I was being serious. I gave a devilish look and turned back towards the home, taking the steps I originally took.

“Hey wait!”

She fumbled trying to get off the bench and walk back in the snow. Snow went flying as she ran through the foot tall snow trying to catch up with me. She looked like a flailing clown.

“What did you do?”

“I may have mentioned about your unfortunate ski trip back in school.”

“NO. Who did you tell?!”

“No way I'm telling you.”

“You better not be putting that in one of your books!”

“Why do you think I was out the other night in the first place?”

And with that, I got a snow ball at the back of my head.