Two cups of cold tea
Alex spent most of those two months thinking.
She thought about her future and where she was going. She thought about them, her class, as individuals and as couples and as a group. Caleb and Shelby. Nimah and Raina. With a pang; Drew and Natalie. She thought about how they'd been changed, been torn apart and rebuilt. The scars that they would carry, unseen forever.
She thought about the events that had led her to this place, whether she could have done anything different; but she did this rarely. The past could not be changed, and she'd spent too long during the events twisting herself into its stranglehold. Now it had been cut she could breath a little easier. She thought instead about the future, about Mrs Haas, and how she was going to bring her down. She limited herself to this, only a little time each day. There was no point choking herself with a new knot when she'd just been cut free of the old.
She thought about Ryan, because it felt good to be able to feel warm and hopeful, to have thoughts that made her smile. She thought a little about Liam, but those thoughts didn't make her smile.
Mostly though, she thought about Simon.
She committed to memory the gentle curve of his lips and his eyes full of sadness. She thought about how he was the only one she'd ever truly trusted. Not even Ryan could have coaxed her out of that car. She loved Ryan, but she did not always trust him. Simon had been something special.
She sometimes imagined him running beside her as she kept up her training around the local neighbourhood or leaning over her as she tapped away at her computer, chuckling softly at how inadequate the systems were, how easily he could have hacked them.
Once a week, after she had woken up in the morning, she would make sure her Mom was still sleeping and go put the kettle on. She would make tea with no milk, just as he had in that forsaken cabin; two mugs of it. She would place one mug opposite her at the table, the other cupped in her hands and she would shut her eyes. She would imagine him there, opposite her, gentle smile still on his face, slightly self-deprecating.
"Hello Alex," he would say, drawl weaving through his words. "We have to stop meeting like this."
She would smile in response, a wet chuckle escaping as tears leaked from her closed lids. He was right. One day she would have to stop this, but not today.
"Hi Simon," she'd whisper back, feeling all her love for him resurge. "I see you."
"You sure do," he replied quietly.
She'd talk to him, tell him all the things she'd been thinking. He'd listen. She'd talk until the tea went cold and it was time to open her eyes and then she would pause for a long moment.
"I miss you." She said it every time because it was always true.
He smiled at her again, his own voice cracked with tears as he answered, "I miss you too."
She always opened her eyes, because she had to, and he would always be gone, leaving her alone with two cups of cold tea. Her cheeks were always wet, and her insides were always aching.
Yet her heart would feel full, so full it was heavy, and she was always smiling.
"I love you Simon," she'd whisper into the empty stillness and then she'd go about her day, living her life, because that was what he'd died for.