And Then Death Greeted Me

LITTLE THINGS AND LOOSE ENDS

The sea is grey, foamy, churning the ice-cold water around our calves like over-eager snakes. Chris and I step in one foot at a time, shrieking and shivering. By the time the water level has reached our knees, we're both trembling so hard it looks like we are being electrocuted.

'Remind m-me why w-we're doing this again?' Chris stutters, her teeth chattering. Our mothers, chatting together safely on the dry sand, laugh at us. A smile on the face of Chris' mother is a welcome sight, and I feel a pull of sorrow in my stomach for my best friend. Then the cold brings me back to the present. 

We are most certainly going to get colds.

'Well,' I muse. 'Aliyah told me I deserved a break. She said I needed a distraction. Honestly, I've never been more distracted.'

Chris snorts, and flicks some water on my face.

'No,' I groan. 'Why are you such a rude cow?'

She gapes at me. I laugh raucously. It's not every day I can make Chris so mad she's speechless. However, my laughter is cut abruptly short when Chris cups a handful of water in her palms and positively smashes it in my face. You know, if liquid could possibly be smashed.

I emerge spluttering, the sides of my hijab plastered to my cheeks. All ice-hell breaks loose as we get into a violent water-fight. I can't wait till I wake up tomorrow morning with a sniffle. Honestly, who comes to Cornwall while it's still practically winter?

It's worth it, though, for the fun me and Chris have that morning. I long mostly to see Azrael, even his shadow or the bare hint of his smile; a small part of me mourns the lack of dry humour and smirks Farley would've brought to the table; and an extremely tiny part of me is hoping that this is just a dream, and I'm actually sleeping soundly in my bed at home. I love that bed – and I really, really want to go to sleep.

Before my last meeting with Aliyah right before we left for the holidays, Chris asked me to hang out with her several times. To the shops, to the cinema, for breakfast or lunch or dinner. I kept blustering excuses, hiding in my bedroom. I was scared. I would've loved to go, but I was scared – and she knew that too.

The world is terrifying right now. Everything is so big, and new, and fresh and compelling and vivid. This world is grey, I know – but I am not. Not anymore. I see new colours everywhere, reflecting off the vibrancy in me, and that's most terrifying of all. I feel the red in the sun, in the burn, in heat. I feel the blue in the coolness of the waves, water cresting over my open hands. I feel the green in life, in nature and in growth.

I grow too. Slowly but surely. I am learning.

I'll be better, one day.

But I don't worry about any of that, right now. I just have a good time. After an hour of splashing each other in the sea, we almost die of hypothermia (only a mild exaggeration). We play duck-duck-goose on the sand to warm ourselves up. My mother has cooked cinnamon waffles with maple syrup for brunch, and I sigh contentedly.

Chris has slung her arm around me, her head resting on my shoulder. I think she's singing a Freddie Mercury song. Her quiet, lilting voice calms my racing thoughts.

I feel better now.

#

I sit up. My mouth is dry. I can barely think over the pounding of my heart. My teeth are chattering, and I rub my palms over my arms to get rid of the goose bumps.

Nightmares... goodness. I've been afraid of so many things in my life, but to be afraid of myself – that is something else. My imagination seems to have run away with me.