DRIVE WEST

EPILOGUE - The Haunted House

At the of that week, Just Johnny and Zen had been to more funerals together than some people do their whole lives. They had no job, three fake passports each, and barely any friends left alive, but somehow felt like luck was on their side.

They grieved together for months before they decided to live a quiet life together for a couple of years on the outskirts of a city in a different country. Their life wasn't exciting or wealthy, but he taught her how to be kissed every single morning, as a man who keeps his promises, and that was the cement that brought together her rebuilding.

Still, Monday kept that letter in a box that was wrapped in a ribbon on a shelf over her closet. She hadn't read it a million times, like she thought she was supposed to. She hadn't memorized every word of it. In fact, she barely remembered what it said after the first year had passed. Cowardice was not to be romanticized by a woman like her-- Though her dreams in the nighttime didn't have the same ability to let go of a face so easily. (She dreamt of Sawyer frequently, but kept it a secret.)

Different from most people, what Monday wanted the most was to find a haunted place and live in it. To be haunted by her friends would be a breath of fresh air. She wrote them letters but the ink had dried and faded without a hint of a reply. Her trained cursive handwriting looked vile and bitter when she looked at it now, but there were so many things she still wanted to say, and she tried. Tried. Tried.

Heaven had left her on hold, after so many years of her loyalty, and she wanted to be violent and destroy beautiful paintings, but at the company of a man who had lost just as much and remained tender, she learned how to paint them instead. She learned how to listen, to the Earth and to the man. She learned how to speak of things she thought nobody could ever know about. She said terrible things and felt shame many times. She learned that, as an author had once said, winter is only pretty when you're warm.

It was a Tuesday morning and the only sound being heard from outside was that of birds gloriously serenading the Earth and its loved ones. Monday slipped out of their bed in her long satin camisole quietly stepping on the tip of her toes until she reached the kitchen. The coffee machine wasn't as gentle, but it hummed its usual tune and, though it wasn't anything special, to her it sounded like the entrance of a new instrument in an orchestra, perfectly intertwining with nature's sopranos and the refrigerators constant baritone.

Many times in life Monday had gotten a feeling that something was missing. Sometimes it was her keys on top of the kitchen isle when she was already on her way to work, and other times, it was life, time, and other things that were not on top of the kitchen isle. But as she drank her coffee and prayed to God like she had done every other morning, the unsuspecting smile that grew on her lips were proof that she couldn't think of anything that she needed that she did not already have.

From afar she heard her name being mumbled and grabbed the mug of tea she had prepared on her way back to the room.

She found Apollo with his head hidden in the fluff of the pillow, and his nose brushed over the fabric when he turned to look at her, one eye shut and afraid of the clarity and the other marveling at the view outside the window.

Monday crawled over the bed and settled crossing her legs. She tilted her head and smiled at her partner, who stretched his arms enough for his fingers to outline the bridge of her nose tenderly. She kissed his finger in reply, and handed him his tea to drink.

He sat on the bed across from her, and drank while admiring the lace details of her dress.

Suddenly, Monday reached for her cupboard and got out a cupcake with an unlit candle in the middle of it. With her pinky finger she balanced a lighter and then lit it up.

Apollo pursed his lips and looked at her, knowing the red velvet would taste bittersweet.

Monday drew out a long breath and held his hand, "Happy birthday, Teresa."

He breathed, and blew out the candle. "Happy birthday, Te."

They were sharing the cupcake by breaking off pieces with their fingers when the doorbell rang, making the big golden dog that guarded the small house awaken like a lightning bolt with no sense of direction. The dog jumped on their bed and chomped the cupcake in a single swoosh making the two burst out laughing, "Eli!!"

The doorbell rang again. Monday wiped some of Eli's rough drools from her chin and stood up giggling. On her way to the door, Apollo grabbed her arm and brought her to him. With a hoarse voice, he whispered, "You're my dream, butterfly."

She smiled sublimely and granted him a heavenly kiss. "Wait for me." She whispered, running her hand through his hair and slowly elongating her arm as she left him to go answer the door.

Monday proceeded to walk down the hallway of her home not only unaware of the world's current events of the day but also uninterested. She worried only about going back to the room and what they should eat for lunch that day.

What she couldn't foresee what that as soon as the door swung open, it would reveal a man with a familiar wavy hair that draped over his face holding flowers with one hand a finger up to his lips with the other. Her complexion paled in shock, but still, she paid attention to his signs. Quietly, he handed her a note, in which he had written in capital letters: "Don't say anything. They can hear us. I need your help."  She looked back up at him again and saw him point to a black car that had been parked across from her house, where the window slowly descended revealing the figure of her old boss waving.

The dog suddenly ran up to her and stood beside her, impatiently waiting to be given attention to. She stuttered and distractedly caressed him with one hand. She turned her head to look behind her shoulder, reminiscing about the life she had two minutes before.

Her eyes fixed back on what seemed like the ghost that was standing on her porch. He smiled devilishly and stretched his arms to hand her the flowers, which she received barely moving her body. "So... aren't you suppose to tell me what they represent or something?"