Salt

As I sat in the hospital cafeteria, my eyes tended to follow the old ladies popping in for a coffee, paid with three pockets full of silvers. Or the toothless little children tugging at back of their parents' jeans, desperate for them to quit catching up on tedious adult events. None of them showed the classic signs that they'd seen anything life-altering. They all laughed and shared stories like they were on live television, lips almost a Chelsea-smile every time.

I've witnessed those honest smiles before; they usually came attached to liars.

Why did we insist we were simply fine when it was easy to notice that wasn't true? Human instinct? I wouldn't like to think so.

I shot up out of my seat when my mother breezed through the doors. It was almost five in the morning, so her wide eyes had equally as large bags lying under them.

I instantly went to hug her when she grabbed my forearm instead.

"Where is she? Is she alright?"

Softly prying her off, I ached to keep a hold of it, but she was already slipping.

"She's stable. They're keeping an eye on her, but they said she should be home by tonight." Narrowing, I looked her up and down as she exhaled. "Where even were you? You didn't answer your phone, do you know how terrifying it was to think something could've happened to you too?"

She scratched her neck, green eyes looking somewhere far off.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I'd gone to visit a friend, I didn't plan on being there that late. We just lost track of time, I suppose." A crease of a smile glided its way across her youthful features, as she found her reflection. She pat down her messy hair. I eyed behind her, it wasn't even windy outside. "Has, uh, has your father arrived?"

My scowl deepened. "No. Maybe if you weren't bickering like a pair of five year-olds he'd be here."

Joining the cafeteria line, I could see her eying up the espresso machine. My mother wasn't much of a coffee person, but it was pretty much the only thing that kept her awake in the morning.

Quickly grabbing a wooden stirrer and a handful of sugar, she trudged further down.

"Ashley, for all you know, he could be up in the mountains or something. Accidents happen there all the time and whatnot. He'll come." She stated it so plainly, so nonchalantly that she frowned when I pretty obviously rolled my eyes. "Come off it, it's not like that. Your father's a busy man."

"Yeah, busy avoiding you."

"That's plenty from you." Connecting with me for the first time, her every cell was hard and tight. "We've had the last of you talking back at every opportunity. Isn't it enough that your sister–"

"For fuck's sake, Mom, don't talk to me as if I don't have a clue what's happening. If you need the reminder, I was the one who found her. I called the ambulance. I've been here all night, not partying with my friends, or whatever. She's not my daughter, she's yours, so maybe you should start acting appropriately."

I didn't think I could bear her reply, so I marched back to my seat and stewed in my resentment until she sat down across from me, frothing hot cup of coffee kissing the air between us. She perched on the extreme edge as I relaxed back, hoping it would engulf me and save me from this entire situation.

She unbuttoned her camel coat before she rose to take a sip from her mug.

A sigh filled the silence between us, but I didn't spare her another glance.

"You're right."

I had to resist letting my jaw fall open. Did she just say what I thought she did?

Her lips formed a thin line, as if she couldn't believe her own words. I didn't think I'd ever heard her utter them before, she'd always had her way.

"I haven't made time for you lately and–"

"Not me. Zoey."

"Both of you. You're both equally my children. I've been short-tempered, belittling, and forceful at times, I'm sure." She exhaled again, stirring her piping beverage. "While I may not have gone the best way about it, I only want what's best for you. If that means pushing you to get a better job I know you'll excel in, or grades Zoey's definitely smart enough to achieve, then I should never apologize but if it makes you feel ignored... I'm sorry I was a contribution. That was not my intention. I'm a mother, perhaps not a particularly good one, but I'm doing what I can the only way I can."

I cleared my throat, squirming in my seat. Other visitors still bustled around us, their laughter a complete contrast to this harrowing conversation.

I wanted to snap back that her method wasn't working, but kept my mouth shut. No matter what I came out with, it would not help Zoey.

Luckily enough, that's when my father plopped down on the seat next to her. His face was drained of color aside from the few spurts of blood on one half of it.

He snapped his cookie in two before dunking one end into my mom's drink.

Normally, that would have been the instigator of another heated argument, but instead, she spun to look at him and the single look they exchanged meant more than words could ever express.

She filled him in the same way I did her, careful to keep her voice factual and unwavering. I didn't think it helped, but it was a start.

We spent the next hour discussing every topic that happened to rise. We touched on school, my work, the latest softcore pornographic romance novel my mom was into, all with a douse of laughter and smiles all around.

My mom was in peals as my dad brought up how a scene from one of her old books was so much like their second date. I tried to tune it out, but she was so loud that the entire cafeteria was now eavesdropping.

"As much as I love hearing about your... extracurricular activities," I cringed, they both sniggered again. "I think time slots are open again."

I got up, and they followed, talking and not shouting as we made our way up. I stifled a smile just before I stopped by the elevator.

Two police officers were waiting, speaking in hushed voices, only stopping when they both met my gaze.

"Ashley."

I'd perhaps only made it a few paces by the time Fletcher flung himself at me. His embrace was warm, and solid, and dependable. I could have melted into it like butter if I wished – but not right now.

He smelled like croissants, his favourite meal for breakfast.

His hands were manic, clutching onto my face, my hair and everywhere else. Shaking, so unlike the confident guy I had grown up knowing. Not a lot of things could strike fear in the heart of Fletcher Gilbert, but I guess this wasn't like any of the other times.

His plump lips pressed lightly to my forehead, once and then three times after it.

"Is she okay?"

"She's stable, if that's what you mean."

Withdrawing, he smiled again. Turning to my folks, he presented them a one-hundred watt kind, giving them each one-armed hugs as Mason casually strolled over.

He tipped his hat to me, as in his other hand he grasped flowers that weren't exactly in bloom just yet. They looked like black lilies.

He caught me ogling and held them out, I took them ever so gently. Their light scent contaminated my nose, allowing me to breathe a little easier.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?" His expression wavered a little, but he clapped the shoulder of his son.

"Black lilies are Zoey's favourite flowers. She's always thought flowers were stupid gifts, but these are the exception." I plucked distractedly at one of the petals, careful to catch any shifts.

But my dad just began laughing again. It was so powerful the stone walls echoed back to us.

"Of course he knows, you and Fletcher are inseparable. He'd be a fool not to remember the little things." The moment was over as soon as my dad approached closer, getting all up in his face, as usual. "Sorry we haven't had time together for a while, pal..."

Once again, I eagerly allowed their budding conversation to fade into the background, as Fletcher and I locked gazes. I hadn't seen or heard from him in for what felt like weeks, I'd wondered if he missed me just as much. Not calling each other every other day or two, the lack of sexual jokes and fulfilled promises, it had been a rough week without him. I bet he knew it, I had to make sure he knew that.

I couldn't let our last encounter be the idea that clouded his mind when in my company. I never saw him in any way except as just Fletcher; my dirty-minded, ambitious and oldest friend.

"Fletcher, I–"

"I know," He said gently, hand intertwining with mine, tracing the creases of my palm. "Me too."

I grinned. "Great, I missed your ugly face."

He feigned shock, pouting before placing his hands on his hips.

"Bitch, you're just jealous I'm prettier."

I pulled on his hand, expecting to drag him in the elevator with me, but his feet were firmly planted to the linoleum floor. I looked back, but all his previous joking manner was gone, instead replaced with something a little more fragile. A little too real.

"Are you coming up?"

"No, hospitals still freak me out, I came here to see how you were coping. Give her my love though, will you?"

I hugged him again, swiftly, making out that bakery shop smell before I joined my parents.

Going up when it was probably best to stay down.