The fuzzy contentment that routinely hovered on the edges of April's sleepy consciousness dissipated quickly at the raucous sound of Aerosmith's 'Rag Doll' blaring through the speakers of the alarm clock located on the bedside table sitting next to the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes shot open, mind confusing reality with her dream visages from moments ago. She easily mistakes the slip of sunlight filtering in through the split in the blackout curtains for the pink sky from months ago, and her short nightgown (the first she's ever owned) feels remarkably like a hospital gown against her skin. However, the heavily muscled arm around her waist and the sound of the radio quickly centers her, preventing the panic that threatens to erupt.
She turns slowly in bed to face her boyfriend, hoping to prevent disturbing his sleep (how he manages to sleep through the classic rock astounds her). She knows he really needs to wake up for work, but she hesitates to wake him at the thought of how late he arrived home last night. Continuously working two jobs exhausts him, and any sleep he gets he holds sacred. With his eyes closed in sleep, Casey appears more peaceful that anyone April ever watched; hair mussed up, drool dripping out of his mouth, yet he stills looks as handsome as when they first bantered over pancakes.
April smiles smittenly at him—something she would never let him witness for fear of constant teasing—and begins to hum as Heart's 'Barracuda' comes on. Reaching up, she runs her hands through his hair, allowing herself to pamper him when he could not complain or tease her. After a few strokes however, the noise of the radio becomes unbearable, and really, Casey acts much more entertaining when awake. Sneakily, in order to catch Casey unaware, April leans up and takes the pillow from under her head. Slowly, so slowly he pauses every time Casey so much as breathes, April pushes herself to her knees above him. With her newfound leverage, she carefully lifts the pillow above her head and then brings it down furiously to smack Casey in the face.
Within the next few seconds, Casey jolts awake while April manages to rear herself up for another hit and rains it down upon him. For the next few hits, he merely flinches and grunts at impact, holding his hands up to protect his face. As April reaches up for a fifth hit, he lunges at her, tackling her to the bed in a fit of laughter and giggles. Entwined, they lay still until the laughter subsides, shifting incrementally to face each other.
"Mornin' Princess." Casey's eyes sparkle with unrestrained mischief, a smirk alighting his face. April's eyes narrow as a smirk large enough to contest his own grows upon her face. "Morning Caveman."
He brings his hand to his heart in feign hurt, merely causing giggles to float from April's mouth. As the giggles fade, they return to simply looking at each other, enjoying a moment void of their typical lighthearted bickering.
"How're ya?" Casey's roughly accented voice washes over her, sending shivers down her spine in way she never fails to find exciting.
"I'm wonderful. You?"
"M'alright. Tired."
She hums in acknowledgement, softly playing with his hair. "What are your plans for today?"
Casey sighs and closes his eyes, whether in exhaustion or dread April could not decide. "Smith 'n' I are patrollin' today, but I don't work the bar tonight."
April nods as best as she can against the pillow. "I have work later in the morning and classes tonight. Care to pick me up after class?"
"Sure Babe."
The two lay in silence for a moment, simply soaking in each other's presence before beginning the hectic proceedings of the day. "Time to get up Babe," Casey groans out as he rolls off the bed, scratching his back and heading towards the shower, dodging the alarm that ended up on the floor during the pillow fight. April laid still for a moment, mourning the end of their short lived peace. With a final sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen, aiming to begin her own morning routine.
Twenty minutes later found the couple situated at the refurbished wood table seated in the kitchen—only bought at April's refusal to eat on the couch—conversing lightly over toast and coffee.
"Robyn called me yesterday," April announced, pen in hand poised over a textbook.
"Yeah? How's tha' squirt doin'?" Casey asked as he eyed the sports portion of the newspaper. "Tampa Bay Lightnin' made it to the Stanley cup."
"Okay? Robyn's good. Apparently your ma scared off some guy who had been hanging around."
Casey's head snapped back as a laugh bellowed out of him. "Tha's my ma alright! So how does she like livin' there?"
The question elicited a good natured eye roll from April, who quickly smiled and responded with, "Oh, she loves it, never shuts up about it honestly."
"Tha's good."
The two returned to the silent companionship that so rarely occurred between them. Prone to arguing or bantering, the couple rarely found themselves preoccupied with anything other than each other, so on the days or weeks they rarely saw each other they resorted to communicating with few words and scattered conversations.
Clearing his throat, Casey glanced at April. "Classes?"
April looked up to meet his eyes, expression somewhere between confusion and desire to question his intelligence—an expression Casey described as her 'what they fuck' look.
"Casey," she started slowly as if explaining a concept to a child, "neither of us wears glasses."
At this, Casey started choking on unexpected laughter. Trying to recover quickly, he swallowed his laughter and went to correct her. "No, how're your classes goin'?"
"Oh," April exclaimed, cheeks red in mild embarrassment. "Fine. History of journalism is challenging, but everything else is good." April spoke nonchalantly over her mortification, causing Casey to stare at her in astonishment, which soon melted into an affectionate gaze.
"Hey Babe?"
"Yeah?"
"You're so fuckin' smart."
April snorted, throwing a piece of her toast at him. "Shut up old man."
At her words, Casey's face puckered in a sour manner, the phrase quickly fouling the conversation. Their difference in age often came up in conversations, a topic that never failed to cause discomfort for everyone involved. While he pouted, April flipped a few pages in her textbook, continuing on as if she never even insulted her boyfriend in the first place. "So what've you and Smith been up to?"
Casey quickly wiped the sour look from his face and simply shook his head. "Just paperwork. He jus' got cleared for his shoulder by the doc, so we'll be back patrollin' today."
"Okay, be careful."
Casey took the opportunity to flex his biceps, "Always am."
Without even looking up from her homework April responded, "Yeah right, you caveman."
"Hey!"
"Speaking of you and Smith," April interrupted and paused to glance at the neon numbers blinking on the stove, "You know it's eight-thirty right?"
Having just taken a calm sip of coffee, Casey almost spit it out in shock. In seconds, he raced around the apartment; grabbing keys, shoes, yelling for his phone, and shouting out obscenities. Typical pre-work behavior for Casey Jones. With a quick kiss good-bye (that somehow still managed to include tongue and an ass-grab) April found herself alone in the silence with her homework. She allowed herself to sit in contemplation for a moment before standing up. Without rushing, she placed the dishes in the sink, gathered up her belongings and homework, and left the apartment, locking up as she went. After all, she also had a job to get to.
On average, the commute from their apartment to the bookstore she cashiered at totaled anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes. Too short to exhaust anyone, the walk served as a wake-up call to April, quickly replacing her midnight runs once she moved in with Casey. Of course, the trip allowed her to experience the diversity and strangeness New York City bragged. However, nothing out of the ordinary occurred on her walk, leading April to believe in the possibilities the day might offer.
Unfortunately, by noon April began to feel unnerved. Working on this end of the city practically guaranteed some minute level of unnatural events, something she could physically attest to. Japanese men who never spoke, Purple Dragons with pornography magazines, teenagers sneaking around suspiciously—she dealt with it all on a daily basis. It eventually evolved into something normal, failing to faze her in the slightest. Today, however, the only strange thing had been a call-in order requesting comic books, a boxing DVD, a few books on 'bushido', and a textbook on quantum physics. While the order raised some eyebrows, weirder orders called in regularly, so April said nothing.
By the time she handed the cash register over to Irma at four, April found herself flinching at every sound, almost expecting something to jump out of the shadows at her. As a result, she constantly looked over her shoulder, her learned paranoia from living in the city fueling her actions. She walked quickly through the city, staying on crowed streets and keeping her head down.
Two blocks down from the community college she attended night classes at, her cell phone began to ring, jolting her out of her temporary paranoia. She answered it quickly at the sight of Casey's name scrolling across the screen.
"Hello?"
"Hey Princess," Casey's voice came across the speaker as deep as it always sounded, almost making her melt inside.
"What's up Caveman?"
Casey's pause and subsequent noise told her enough. She could picture him running his hand over his face and into his hair; tired and stressed over the events of the day.
"Listen, Ape, me and Smith, we found a body on patrol—practically ran over it—so their making us stay late for questionin' and reports. I'm not gonna be able to pick ya up."
April stopped in front of the school, silently acknowledging her suspicions as confirmed. "Okay."
"Ape, it's not okay—"
She cut him off, "Casey, it's fine. I understand. I'll see you tonight?"
Casey fell silent, and April figured he ended up resorting to silence to oppress his frustration. "Yeah, I'll be home by eight."
"Okay, I'll see you then."
"Yeah, I love you."
"Love you too." She ended the call hesitantly, reluctant to let him go. Turning, she hustled toward the school with her head bent low.
In class she tried to focus on the teacher's lecture on the importance of the Oxford comma, but her worry over Casey effectively tuned him out. Despite living with him for eight months, she remained unaccustomed to sitting patiently and worrying about him. If possible, Casey usually attempted to take her with him—to the bar, hockey games, the farmhouse. She even rode along with him and Smith once. The concept of separation weirded them out, but over time the learned to handle it. Still, she worried over the brash knucklehead—far more than healthy.
Around her, fellow students began to stand, shocking her out of the 'what if's and 'could have's that plagued her following the revelation of the nameless body. She softly cursed at the realization she missed the entirety of the lecture. Resigned, she stood to leave, willing the winding path home already completed.
Unlike the walk from the bookstore to the college that only totaled ten minutes, the walk from the college to the apartment took approximately a half-hour. Usually, Casey picked her up, but nights like this forced April onto the subway. Dirty, dingy, and overall disturbing, April tried to avoid the night trains at all cost and often resorted to walking. After all, she would rather walk, plus she had years of running experience should the situation ever call for it.
About five blocks into her walk, on a street more deserted that considered safe, the sound of rowdy laughter caused her head to shoot up. Coming towards her on the sidewalk strolled a group of young men, laughing and stumbling. The piercings and street clothes increased her wariness (and did that one have a purple Mohawk?), but the identical tattoos froze her in place: a purple dragon, crawling up an arm, a chest, a neck.
"Check out this cutie, boys!" Wolf whistles and laughter answered the one with the purple Mohawk, who continued to leer at April. "Wanna have a little fun, doll?" The boys hollered, one thrusting his hips in an unmistakable obscene gesture. The actions knocked April out of her fear-induced trance, but not quick enough to prevent their formation of a semi-circle around her, effectively cutting off any escape route she might have chanced, except for the alley behind her.
"Come on," purple mohawk jibed, "We won't hurt you."
April narrowed her eyes, "Yeah right." Swinging her bag, she hit him squarely in the face, her textbook crashing into his nose. A grunt reached her ears, but she refused to stand still long enough to assess the damage. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she took off running into the alleyway behind her, the sound of feet echoing behind her.