AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I exchanged a glance over her head with Lilith. "In your pocket."
Audrey grunted, pulling it free. "Right. Of course."
She muttered to herself as her fingers flew over the keypad, the note app capturing her thoughts.
"First Jennifer, and now this?" On my other side, Elliot stared down at her lap, her tightly clasped hands white at the knuckles. "It's too much, it's far too much." Her voice broke, thick with unshed tears.
I squeezed her hand. "It's okay, Ellie. We'll get through this."
She lifted her head, forcing a smile. "I know. It's just… hard to see the light when the world feels like it's moving into the dark."
I opened my mouth to respond but found myself terrified of what might emerge.
Over the last month, the virus had rampaged through the Americas before jumping across to the UK, then Europe and Asia. From there, it had spread rapidly, finally reaching Australia's shore via a repatriation flight in Queensland last week. Within days, it had crossed the border, infiltrating New South Wales and heading down the east coast. The world had ground to a halt. Borders closing, doors locking, toilet paper stripped from grocery shelves.
And through it all, I'd been wrapped in raging grief, watching my beautiful friend slip from this world one agonising breath at a time.
The barkeeper, Jen's uncle, rang the bell hanging from the roof of the bar. Holding up individual beer bottles, he called, "In honour of Jen, ladies drink free!"
Around us, the morbid crowd cheered, their spirits rallying despite the difficulty of the evening. My heart ached knowing Jen would have loved the opportunity to bring a little cheer to people in their time of grief.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
"Do you think Jen would have enjoyed this?" Elliot asked, tucking a limp chunk of blonde hair behind her ear. With her sparkling eyes and bright smiles, Ellie normally reminded me of a plump ray of sunshine. But tonight, dark circles bruised the skin under dull, bloodshot eyes, her pale skin sickly in the dim light of the bar. I looked away, unable to bear witness to the grief etched on her face.
Swallowing, I drew liquid into my dry mouth. "Yeah. She'd love it."
Jen had been the kind of woman who loved to live. She'd been wild and carefree, running from one adventure to another and dragging us along with her.
A year ago, she'd been diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer. Despite her efforts to fight it, our friend had passed away, leaving behind a gaping, ragged wound. In the week since she'd left this world, my life had shifted from living to subsisting.
Why her? Why now? Why?
Lilith rose gracefully from her seat, her black romper clinging to her slender body. Six foot two with a flawless complexion and near-umber eyes, she looked more like a supermodel than an electrical engineer.
"I suspect this will be our last drink for a while," she said, her Nigerian English accent easily cutting through the low drone of the mostly Australian crowd. Her lips quirked into a grim smile. "Shall we?"
Desperate to drown the turbulent emotions rioting under my skin, I shoved away from the table. "I'll help. Same again?"
"Yeah, thanks." Ellie nodded at Audrey who remained glued to her phone. "I'll stay with this one."
"Be back soon." I followed Lilith to the bar, joining the line of mourners.
"You're right," Lilith said, gesturing at the crowd. "Jen would have loved this."
University students mingled with patched members of a local motorcycle club. Jen had been the stepdaughter of a member. She'd once explained it as being a kind of chosen family—the kind you never quite knew what to do with.
Glancing around at the sea of patches and battered vests, I couldn't argue with her description.
"To Jen!" yelled a drunken man from the corner of the bar as he held his beer aloft.
"To Jen!" echoed the crowd, lifting glasses in salute.
My breath caught, the same impotent rage I'd suppressed for months shredding my control. Fighting for composure, I stared at the back of the man in front of me my gaze tracing the patch on his back. He leaned against the beaten spotted gum bar, his fingers drumming impatiently as he waited for service.
As I struggled with my emotions, the man shifted and in the mirrored backsplash of the bar I was confronted with my reflection—bloodshot eyes, red frizzy curls, and freckles that contrasted sharply with my pale skin.
And pain. So much pain.
