Death's Awakening

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Parrish

They needed blankets and warm clothing.

If they were going to try to pack up everything they might need over the next few months, Parrish knew they had to be thinking about what would happen once winter hit.

Especially her; since she might be on foot and heading north soon.

It was possible she could look for things on the way, but it would be better to at least have a few sweatshirts or jackets packed away, just in case. All of her winter clothes were packed away in the attic. Even if they had time to go over to her house so she could grab a few of her belongings, it would take too long to search the attic for the right boxes.

Maybe Noah had some things they could use instead.

Parrish had been working on the packing list alone in her room while the others slept, but she ventured into the hallway just to see if Noah was still awake.

A sliver of light shone out from underneath his door, so she took a chance a knocked lightly.

Noah answered right away. He was dressed in loose pajama pants and a black sleeveless shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms.

"Hey," he said. "What's up?"

"Do you have any sweatshirts or extra blankets that might pack up easily?" she asked. She looked past him and saw an open journal on his desk. She didn't realize he'd been keeping a journal. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

He shook his head. "It's no problem," he said. "I think I might have a few things that would work. You want to come in?"

Her heart beat a little faster as she passed through the door to Noah's bedroom. Being invited into his private space felt so intimate.

Noah's room was messier than she expected. It was probably exactly like a typical teenage guy's room, but for some reason, with the way Noah's father was always so strict, she just expected every inch of their house to be immaculate. Of course, Noah's father was behind a glass wall in the basement—hardly in a position to yell at his son about having a messy bedroom.

Parrish leaned against the wall, suddenly so exhausted she could hardly stand.

"Here." Noah squatted down and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulled out a blanket and a couple of sweatshirts and set them out on the bed. "I think I have a few more in the closet."

Parrish moved aside as he brushed past her so he could get to the closet. His hand touched hers as he passed and her skin tingled. She stepped away, toward his dresser, and picked up the first thing she could put her hands on. It wasn't until after she picked it up that she really saw it.

A picture of Noah when he was a little kid. He was sitting on the lap of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. She had her arms wrapped around him and was looking at him with a huge grin. "Is this your mom?"

He stopped and turned, a handful of shirts in his hand. Sadness crossed his features, but then he smiled and nodded.

"I love this picture," she said. "There's so much love in her eyes. I can't think of a single picture where my mother ever looked at me like this."

She set the picture down, her cheeks flushed. She hadn't meant to say that last part out loud, but it had just come pouring out of her. She sounded like a martyr. Her eyes searched for anything else in the room she could talk about. Anything to change the subject.

A baseball pennant was tacked up on the wall above his desk. Atlanta Braves. She pointed to it. "Are you a big Braves fan?"

Noah set the last of the blankets on the bed and walked closer to her. "You never really talk about her," he said, obviously ignoring her attempt at diversion.

The room suddenly felt smaller. Hotter.

Parrish grabbed a strand of hair and pulled it in front of her face, wanting to hide behind it. "What's there to talk about?" she said. "She died. End of story."

Noah shook his head and took another step closer. "You don't mean that," he said. "Just because she's gone doesn't mean you don't still think about her or wish she was here. It doesn't mean you don't need to talk about it sometimes."

She didn't say anything to him. She just backed up a step, wishing he would give her more space. He was standing between her and the door and if she backed up too much farther, she'd be squished between his bed and the wall. She felt like she couldn't breathe in this room.

"When my mom died, I didn't really know how to talk about it," he said. "My dad was really closed off about it. I think he felt like it was his fault. He spent a lot of time working back then, and I spent most of my nights alone. I really wished I would have had someone to talk to, you know?"

Parrish swallowed and looked down at her shoes. "What happened to your mom?"

Noah picked up the picture she'd just put down. He ran a fingertip across his mom's face. "Dad had this trip to Africa for work. It was part of some kind of study of bacteria that had gotten into one of the water supplies. It was kind of a charity mission, too, in a way, and my mom was really into that kind of stuff. They left me with my mom's sister for a month and went over there together," he said. "She got Meningitis and didn't take it seriously, at first. She thought she was just tired from all the traveling and the work. By the time they realized just how bad it was, it was too late. My dad never really forgave himself for that."

He set the picture back down, then looked at her. "Did your mom die that night? After I helped you get her to the car?"

Parrish nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to fight them back. Why cry over something she couldn't change? Hadn't she cried enough?

But the tears came anyway.

"I had no idea what was going on," she said. "I thought I'd get her to the hospital and they would give her some kind of shot or hook her up to an IV and everything would be okay."

She leaned against the edge of the dresser, pulling her arms in tight against her body, wanting to somehow hold it in. To keep herself from unraveling.

"I had to wait in line forever," she said, the memory still so fresh in her mind. It seemed like yesterday. And it seemed like forever ago. "All those people. It just didn't make any sense to me how so many people could get sick so fast. It still doesn't make sense."

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and Noah reached out, putting both hands on her arms.

"She died in the car before we even got to the front of the line," she said. "She died right there, inches from me, and I didn't even know she was gone."

She couldn't hold it in any longer. She let out a sob, then quickly covered her mouth, not wanting to cry in front of Noah, but simply not able to stop herself. He wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her tight against his chest.

Noah held her like that for a long time. She could feel his steady heartbeat against her cheek, and she wished he could hold her there forever. Anything not to have to face the reality of the world outside his bedroom door.

Thank you for reading!! <3