SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 30

CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

"Cole?"

No response.

I continued, hushed voice. "You awake?"

He groaned sleepily, pressing his face into the pillow, eyes still closed. "What time is it?"

It was 6:21 a.m., the sky was an oil painting of the finest pastel pinks, daffodil yellows, calm ocean blues, a fairy tale sunrise. I woke up in my bed, crumpled white sheets covering our naked bodies, last night was a blurry confused memory in a mind where the wheels to clarity had only just started running.

"Almost half past six."

"Too early," he grumbled, "go back to sleep."

"I had a nightmare," I said. He sighed tiredly, asked what it was about, tone reluctant. "It was weird. I was on a staircase and the further I ran down it, the steeper the steps got and I couldn't get to the bottom. Do you think it meant anything?"

"No," he said grumpily, "can I go to sleep now?"

"Maybe it's an allegory for my life. I'm trying to get some stability, land on solid ground, but -"

"But nothing," he interrupted, "you're overthinking. Do you even know what an allegory is?"

"A representative image for ...for something else, I think. I just remember my English teacher talking about them. What were you dreaming of?"

"Jesus."

"I didn't know you were religious."

"It's too early for you to give me a headache." He finally opened his eyes, rubbing his face in exhaustion and turning to face me. "Can you... Why do you look so upset?"

"I don't know, I woke up feeling...blue," I frowned. "I've got a head full of sadness. Am I saying that right?"

"You're depressed."

"I think I'm going to cry."

"Could you go do it in the bathroom? I'm trying to sleep here."

"I want things to go back to how they were. I want to be with Seth, and Dad. I don't - I hate being a grown-up."

He lay on his back, arm under his head, sighing again, this time defeated. "I got the impression you didn't like your father. Why would you want to live with him again?"

"Because I don't want to be defined by my daddy issues. It was a simpler time. I woke up, and went to college, and I had a family. Now I don't have anything."

"I wonder how Irvin would feel about that. Daniel, too. James–"

"I get it."

"My point is family isn't the mother who breast-fed you, or the father who went to work to put clothes on your back. Doing the basic requisite doesn't make a person a brilliant parent. You don't get a pat on the back for making your kid breakfast. It doesn't work like that," he said. "Picking on your child like you would a scab isn't right. You don't owe your father shit. Stop feeling guilty for disliking him. That's his fault. And before you blabber on again, realise you don't have to return to the past to feel at home. Nostalgia is deceptive. Set the bricks, make the bed, and live in the present."

"That's good advice." I remarked. "Do you ever want to become a parent?"

"No, I hate kids."

"Oh."

He was quiet and then he corrected himself. "That wasn't entirely true. I don't mind kids. I just know I won't be able to have any–"

"I see. Do you have a problem with–?"