Band-Aid

Appearance

She looked down at the turbulent waters and breathed in the indescribable scent of the salty sea.

Thinking back, she should've thanked the sloppy taxi service that had left her out in the filthy street between 5th and Fillure Parkway, twenty kilometers south of her house. She should have laughed at the poor cell reception downtown, where she noticed the building grey cumulonimbus clouds would not let her walk home dry. She should have hugged the shady merchant that she had hurriedly paid and given her the useless, tattered umbrella that ruled out any possibility of walking in the coming rain. And she would have kissed the man that had directed her to a bus stop nearby.

Because in any other circumstance, she would have walked all the way home... and would've missed everything that had happened after meeting him.

x

The downpour currently battering the small cover above her discouraged any courageous thought of walking home. There was a small hole in the metal cover, and a thin intermittent stream of water trickled down onto the bench, slid down, and plopped down to a forming puddle below. The bus wouldn't come until 11:15, the man had said.

Celeste glanced at her phone. 10:54 pm. She sighed and gingerly sat on a splintered bench, away from the leak, wincing as the wood poked her thighs.

With little visibility and five percent charge on her smartphone, all she could do was watch as droplets of rain ricocheted against the concrete. A flash of lightning illuminated the street in front of her, the rumble of thunder following seconds after. The rain seemed to fall even harder.

God is crying...

A sudden wave of weariness crashed down on her and Celeste felt drained as she slumped heavily on the wooden bench. Her mother would have scolded for her poor posture.

Celeste sucked in a breath and when she exhaled it came out shaky. Her mother.

She was probably having her nightly cup of cocoa on the velvet armchair, all set to berate her about coming home late and preparing an invisible list of chores for Celeste to do the next morning.

Her mother had not attended the funeral.

Her dad's funeral had been a depressing one, as was every ceremony for the dead, but Celeste felt it was particularly depressing because only four people had shown up. That number, of course, included her and the eulogist.

Celeste had probably cried the hardest when her English teacher had come to comfort her. She had felt pitiful and pathetic.

Janice had come, even, which was surprising, what with not seeing her for... had two months already passed? It felt like just a week ago that she remembers her friend's blurry back, stiff and shaking, turning and leaving her at the hospital bed.

After many unanswered texts, phone calls, and sending desperate-sounding voice mails, Celeste had accepted the fact that her best friend had abandoned her and was doing her best to avoid her. It was a large, unmoving lump in her throat. From that day on, Celeste had locked her heart and kept her back straight so that she wouldn't feel the constant pain, forever twisting itself deeper.

So it had truly been a surprise to see the redhead suddenly beside her, panting as if she had ran miles, just as her father in his wooden coffin was lowered into the dark pit. When the first handful of dirt had been tossed after him, Janice had put her arms around her as she cried into her shoulder and for a moment Celeste felt that she wasn't alone. She still had a friend.

Then the moment was over and it was decidedly awkward as Janice explained she had to go, her mom was waiting in the car down the block, she had just passed by after seeing the date and remembered her dad's funeral...