Hexus

)18( Choice

[6:37PM, June 8, UTC ±00:00]

Linus unlocked the door and exhaled. ‘Shopping’ for the evening had been hell, but it was done, and he was glad to be back in familiar surroundings. Things had been going somewhat smoothly so far, and for a second he felt that it was only a matter of time before things got bad again. Or not, he thought. Things didn’t take a sad turn because of some cosmic force of the universe. He blamed his religious background for that logical fallacy.

He closed his eyes and scowled. Somehow, he had managed to make himself think about them again.

“Did you get any bacon this time?”

“Yeah, they just restocked,” he replied.

“Thank God for that.”

“Hey, I did all the work. Where’s my thanks?”

Esther laughed, grabbing the bags from him. He smiled and shrugged. Well, she’s going to do all the cooking anyway. He sat on the ratty couch of their rented apartment and tried to find the remote control. When he remembered that they’d lost it last week, he chuckled to himself. Old habits. With a blink, he turned on the TV. The film that was showing played out a bank robbery scene. He smiled wryly.

“Hey Es, ever considered doing something really big?”

“How do you mean ‘big’?” Esther rinsed a pan and set it on the gas flame. The smell and crackles of frying bacon filled the room. Linus turned to the source of the new stimuli and sighed in satisfaction. The little luxuries of life were to be savoured when they came.

“Like a big bank heist. Or something. We could be millionaires overnight.”

“That’s a little too much, don’t you think? I think we’re fine with what we get.”

“Aren’t you tired of living here?”

“Who wouldn’t be? The noises at night are enough to drive anyone crazy. It was never this loud back home…”

Her voice trailed off and they both fell quiet, the silence broken only by the hissing of frying bacon. He grunted under his breath and tried to move his attention to the film on the television, but it wasn’t easy, even after three months. Every thought or mention of ‘home’ brought up the batch of memories he wished he never had. He felt he was past the anger and depression, maybe halfway through the acceptance phase of the so-called grieving process. It had taken weeks before Esther stopped crying herself to sleep and tried to function again. He had been her comforter, defender and sole provider all at once – not an easy feat on the backstreets of Glasgow, but being superhuman had its advantages. He was glad she had come to peace with the situation. She was even smiling again.

“Bloody hell!”

She hurriedly picked the bacon pieces out of the pan; they were beginning to blacken at the edges. He gave a dry laugh and whooped at a car explosion scene. After finishing the batch of bacon, she came to the couch and sat beside him, placed her feet on the cushions and used them to nudge him towards the opposite side. Slowly, she sighed.

“I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s all grand,” he said, but even he noticed that his voice didn’t match the strength of the words. She poked his thigh with her toes and urged him to look at her.

“It’s not, but that’s okay. We’ll be okay. We’ve managed to survive on our own so far.”

“I know. But it’s still really…I mean, our parents, they just…”