~2~


~Chapter Two~


A cloud hangs over,
And mutes my happiness,
A thousand ships couldn't sail me back from distress,
Wish you were here

~Incubus, Anna-Molly~


I haven't been in a car with this many people since the last time Elena went to the beach with me. And the nostalgia I feel is astounding, somewhat disorienting, and bittersweet.

Those were simpler times, and I had simpler problems.

That was nice—I felt more confident about how I handled myself—and I try to cling to that feeling as Elena nudges my shoulder, urging me to join the conversation.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done, Bonnie?" Mehri asks casually.

Back then, I probably would have mentioned the time I ditched studying for a mid-term to accompany Caroline to a tattoo shop to hold her hand while she had her belly button pierced. But now… well, my response is different—and I think it should be obvious… which is actually kind of embarrassing.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this but, Bon Bon isn't crazy—at least, not in the reckless kind of way. It sucks—she never does anything too risky—her life failure count is zero."

I'm a bit surprised at how quickly Damon jumped in for me, and I know if Mehri asked my father the same question, he would launch into a diatribe about how he feels the exact opposite is true.

"She doesn't," Care says. "She spends most of her time telling us we're nuts."

"And then she lists all the ways our plans could go wrong," Elena adds.

"So… what you're saying is that she constantly mothers you," Damon presses a few buttons on his cell, and I know he just wants someone to say something worth recording to add to his collection of funny Bonnie videos—sure, he claims that he's doing it for the days when he can't call me, but this is Damon so, clearly he has more than one motive.

And my best friends fall right into his trap.

"Um, yeah…" Caroline wrinkles her nose in confusion.

Elena looks at Damon thoughtfully. "But it's a good thing."

"Ugh, you ruin everything, Elena!"

"Sorry… but I would've had neon-yellow hair for ninth-grade pictures if Bon didn't talk me out of it."

"Technically, she didn't," Stefan reminds her. "I thought you did the bottom half of your hair, realized you overdid it with the bleach, and called Bonnie for help."

"I like to skip over that part."

"Oh, then there was the time she told me not to pierce my belly button, held my hand when I got it done anyway, and helped me take it out when it got infected."

I smile at that one, if only because I had thought of the same story minutes ago.

"Amelia's lucky she has Bonnie," she continues. "If Damon had to do all the work, can you imagine what would happen?"

"Well, she wouldn't play with bugs," Mehri says with a laugh.

"He'd be fine—great, actually," I tell everyone.

It's me that will have the issues. When Damon holds her, it looks so freaking natural—he doesn't get rattled when she cries or when something happens with one of the many machines monitoring her vitals does something weird.

I'm the frazzled one—I still can't hold her without feeling like I'll hurt her. The first time she left her incubator, I chalked it up to not having gotten over everything that happened, but it hasn't stopped or gotten the slightest bit better with time.

"Wow, Damon," says Mehri, glancing at Damon in the rearview mirror. "I'm impressed."

"You're impressed that I got Bonnie pregnant before we graduated high school—that's the first time I've heard that one."

"I'm impressed that you're taking this seriously. You're growing up. Right, Stef?"

"I agree," he states, patting Damon on the head. "It's so endearing, he's turning into a fine young man."

I snort—now that is funny. If only because Stefan's been waiting for an opportunity to patronize Damon like that for years and the time finally presented itself.

"Mehri—it's much more satisfying to tell embarrassing stories about Saint Steffy. Like that time, he peed himself when you introduced him to your friend Lindsay—he was ten, by the way."

Stefan's expression darkens as Damon tells us the tale; intertwining moments that sound much better exaggerated than they do factual. There are dramatic pauses, where Damon listens to the laughter, a smug grin on his face, and eventually, even Stefan joins in on the fun, correcting the falsehoods Damon swears are truths.

I tilt my head back slightly and relax. At some point (I'm not sure how long I've been zoned out), my eyelids become heavy and I feel myself drift off, amidst contemplating if I'm overthinking everything… maybe I'm just being a worrywart… everyone is offering a childhood memory now, and all the mentions of past mistakes give me a glimmer of hope that things will be alright—just like Grams used to tell me.

~~X~~

When I wake up again, Damon is standing outside Mehri's silver SUV, putting quarters in a parking meter. Elena is going through her purse, Stefan is unbuckling his seatbelt, and Caroline is poking me repeatedly.

I yawn and turn my head. A stab of pain runs up my neck, making it hard to face Care, who has yet to stop nudging me, even though I'm awake now.

"I'm here… I'm awake…" I insist, fumbling around for the button that will free me from my restraints. After a minute, Caroline takes mercy on me and pushes it herself.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and I know she's not being serious—the note of amusement in her voice is apparent.

"Fine," I say, stretching my legs out.

"You were talking in your sleep again," Elena informs me, zipping her bag closed. "Damon got a video out of it. Care tried to stop him, but then Mehri had to pull over because… well, Damon was being an ass."

"Like usual," Caroline adds.

"It surprised us you didn't wake up with all the commotion—but Damon says you've been sleeping like a rock."

"Oh my God, what was I saying?"

"Um, it was nothing awful," Elena says, but I don't believe her because she won't make eye contact with me.

"So… can I have the actual story now?"

Caroline laughs, but it doesn't sound uneasy. She thinks I'm being funny. "Not now—it's something that'll be better kept a secret."

I lurch forward, inspecting my face in the rearview mirror. "Did he draw a penis on my face or something?"

"No—we swear," Elena assures me, straight-faced.

"On Ryan Gosling," Care says solemnly because what's more binding than the guy that played Noah in The Notebook?

I sit back down. "… is it humiliating?"

"No, not at all. The exact opposite."

I eye Elena skeptically. "Really?"

"I promise," she insists. "One day you'll look back on it and it'll be a cute story you guys will tell Amelia."

"It better be," I warn them both. "Or I'll let Damon tell her all about how her aunts embarrassed themselves."

"See?" Caroline says with a renewed sense of positivity. "That's the spirit!"

When I step outside, I have to use my eyes to shield my eyes from the sun. We are standing in the middle of a picturesque town square, sidewalks paved in bricks and quaint, touristy shops—a used bookstore, jewelry shop, a café, a haberdashery, and Flair. The entryways are lined with vibrant flowers, doors adorned with hand-painted signs and little bells that signal shopkeepers to the presence of new customers. People mill around, stopping to sit on benches strategically placed underneath shady willow trees.

Couples laugh and smile as they walk by, hands swinging back and forth. Families emerge from the ice cream parlor with cones topped with rainbow sprinkles and cherries, new mothers and fathers push their babies in cutesy carriages.

This place is a lot like home—but at least there, when I see parents enjoying time with their children, I can run back into the house and lock myself in my bedroom. Now, I have to watch—and regulate my emotions—as the scene plays out in front of me at least three separate times before everyone else has decided that they've wasted enough change to give us two hours of parking privileges.

"Bon?"

I hear Caroline's voice, but I'm too busy dealing with the onslaught of pain to respond.

"Bonnie?" That's Elena, but she sounds like she's talking through a funnel.

A gentle hand is placed on my shoulder. "Bonnie—are you okay?" Mehri.

I take a deep breath, suppressing the frustration that comes with that question. I hate that word, but no one else deserves my anger—they mean well and are only trying to help.

But nothing will change and there aren't enough words in any language to fix what is broken.

"Sorry—I'm still waking up." I force a smile, then yawn, to prove my point.

A bell rings from behind us, and I see Damon and Stefan walking toward us. I had been so fixated on what was going on in front of me that I hadn't noticed when Damon slipped away.

"Mehri, why is it that you dragged us to the only town in the entire state that doesn't have a fucking ATM?"

I watch as Damon shoves a few bills into his wallet.

"Stop whining, Damon—it has a nice ambiance. Don't knock it."

Damon looks at me, turns his head, and stares at the couple with their baby that passed me moments ago, their retreating figures getting smaller and smaller until they round the corner. "The ambiance sucks."

Mehri seems puzzled, probably trying to figure out how the cheerful vibe soured so quickly. Elena follows our gazes, but she just missed the little family and therefore has very little information to go on. Care and Stefan—who are the most empathetic of us all—catch on quickly, and usher us toward a cluster of stores displaying antiques, clothes, and what looks like costume jewelry.

I probably should've declined the offer, I think miserably, I'm ruining everyone else's fun.

So, I vow to act less as I feel and more like a normal eighteen-year-old girl who's supposed to be enjoying her last summer break before she starts college, striking out on her own, without the help of her parents.

That's all my friends want—for me to be happy, better, and that's certainly not a bad thing. It's a far cry from before; when Damon and I were completely on our own (because, while it felt like I was by myself when he wasn't there, he never ran away).

Not like Abby, Rudy, and Elena did.

So, I should just take the good moments—that's how Damon is attempting to deal with it, what he said over and over again when I felt like I was drowning in my own uncertainty. I arm myself with the several truly blissful memories in all the pain.

It's not fair for me to add fuel to Damon's sadness either.

It's one of the last things I want to do.

When we enter the store, I see it is mainly geared for women. The men's section is small and located in the front, probably because no one expects it to bring in much revenue.

And Damon won't prove my theory wrong—he is glaring at Mehri, who he is saying oversold the whole "fun for him, too," aspect of her pitch.

I find myself feeling worse for Stefan, who is holding Elena's hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and glancing around awkwardly.

Elena, who is listening to Damon's rant, let's go of her boyfriend, and says, a sympathetic smile on her face, "why don't you guys find somewhere else to go? Let us have a girl's day?"

Care's mouth drops open and I can't stifle my shock. Elena is usually very much of the mind that the Salvatore brothers make every trip or outing worthwhile—even when Caroline wants to go into Victoria's Secret to take advantage of a sale.

And let me tell you, out of the few occasions it happened, each time was pretty painful.

It's pretty much a scientific fact that's withstood each trial, yielding the same results.

It goes like this:

Caroline spots the sale's sign, but Elena's already sent Stef a text inviting them both to meet up with us, and somehow Stefan ends up waiting outside because Caroline and Damon made one too many jokes at the expense of his sex life, and Damon gets the phone number of the best-looking sale's associate.

Suffice to say, this idea is a welcome change.

Damon kisses me on the cheek, before whispering in my ear, "survival of the fittest, Bon Bon. Don't take it personally."

"I'm not—trust me," I assure him, rolling my eyes.

"And that's another reason I love you," his voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"It's okay—you can make it up to me later."

"That sounds… ominous."

"Good, you're supposed to take it that way," I attempt to sound foreboding, but I can't help the grin I crack at the last second.

And I know, if I begin to feel uncomfortable, I can just go back to thinking of the best ways to torture my boyfriend.

There's only one problem that can't fix, after all.

~~X~~

My primary goal is to get through this trip without another near breakdown.

And I'm faring pretty well.

"So, you're not going to make this Luna chick your new bestie, are you?"

I study Caroline's expression, trying to gauge her level of seriousness. She's smiling, but part of her is genuinely curious. I had given them a brief description of Luna after the apartment tour, and when she called to ask if I still wanted to live there, she had heard my excited confirmation.

At the time, I was only thinking of crossing one item off my checklist, but I didn't think Caroline had taken it another way. When I answer, I think about how sharing space will be an enormous change for me, how I'm going to have to deal with a multitude of new experiences one after the other.

"No, and you know if I could, I'd live on campus with you guys."

"Just double-checking," Care says, tightening the laces on the boot she's trying on.

"Luna's the future-roommate?" Mehri inquires, browsing through a rack of tops.

I nod. "Yup. She seems nice enough. You guys will like her—I promise."

"Can we sleep over whenever we want?"

"As long as she's alright with it, but I'm not sure you guys will want to after a while."

"We do, though." Elena says, "we want to spoil Amelia."

"It's… I don't… it's not just the normal stuff… I don't…" I falter, looking down at my feet. I guess now is a good time for a dose of realism. "She might need extra care, like medical equipment, things like that. It's a lot," and I'm fucking terrified.

"We've got your back, Bon," Elena states firmly. "You can do this—we all believe in you."

It's a heartwarming sentiment, and I cling to it, hoping it's true.

"My friend, Debbie, is studying to be a neonatal nurse," Mehri says casually. "I can give you her contact information.

I'm not in the position to be turning down helpful resources. "That'd be great! Thanks, Mehri."

"Of course," she beams at me. "I'd do anything for my family—and I'm not just saying that because of Damon or the baby. I think you bring out the best in Damon, and you have this way about you, I had a good feeling about you. And I was serious about Damon turning into a teddy bear—I've never seen him so… happy… which, given what you guys have gone through, says a lot."

"Wow, you almost convinced me Damon was an actual person with that analysis." Caroline claps her hands together in astonishment.

"I know," Mehri says. "Scary, isn't it?"

Not even a little, I think.