Bomb Shelter

A chill was sent down her back when opening her eyes, drifting in and out through her head, staring at the off-white wall surrounding her bedroom. Listening, her mom walked past her room and out of the apartment; she heard her bedroom door slam, then the stomps of her sandals through the walls. The elevators in the hall could echo and reach the ear's of Bella, as she reached for her phone and saw it was six-forty - the stillness, remaining visible to her senses.

Yesterday, she heard her mother crying on her bed when she came home from school; and going to her door she peeked through the small line available, and hesitated to ask what had happened, having suspicion her mom and dad had fought all morning. And, to avoid any further annoyances, she, for the rest of that afternoon, stayed in her room, and only shared a ‘Thank you’ when her mom made dinner later.

Now, having dreaded awareness it was the next day, no longer feeling a presence of her mother, she sat up and attempted shaking off the creepy, tired after affects of a routine having changed because of yesterday; - usually, her father would be making breakfast and saying “good morning, Bella,” before leaving for work. And gaining back her consciousness of her space, since nobody is with her, she gathered her mother was going to work early; and developed the motivation to stand up and remember, quickly, when school started. Which was 8.

First, she opened her messages, there, under Riley, her best friend since elementary, confirmed to Bella she was available, and to come over once her mother left for work. Bella remembered how tenderly she typed yesterday, the words and letters, to ask if she could come over, and thought carefully if missing one day of school was comforting, or, deeply strained.

The many times Riley had always been available comforted ideals of friendship within Bella; putting her phone on the bed, she walked to her closet and chose standard sweatpants and a light, green hoodie. Then grabbed a clean towel from the hall closet and went to take a shower. Spending much of her mornings preserving what she held the day before, and exploiting them to detox herself from any lasting pain. And though she didn’t have heavy fears driving her entirely, she still wanted to hold routine - piecing together possibilities for the day.

Knowing everyone she knew would be at school, and her away in a different place - the courage to use her makeup effectively, went along with the basics of her outfit and mood. Slightly neurotic, yet gave purpose to think, self-consciously, to handle herself in any social task that came with the day. Thus, the anxiety she was getting in her back, the chills forming over her, she felt delighted to have woken up and began getting ready.

She stopped brushing her hair, listened, and heard another vibrant notification confirm her ears. Setting down the brush and walking back to her room, she taps her phone and opens her homescreen, and quickly sees Riley has texted again. Bella, suddenly, was afraid Riley had to change plans. Opening the text, it reads: “I’m so happy you’re coming back again. Can’t wait to see you.” Bella turned around as though she expected her mother to call her name, feeling the chilling pulse, and walked back to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet behind the mirror, and took two aspirins for her headaches. When she closed the cabinet, her eyes reflected, she felt strangely unnerved; - the presence of herself coming to a strong realization she was a girl standing in space and existing plainly, all along, as though being what she sees is not similar to what she thought. She then thought, maybe a bit of makeup on my eyes wouldn’t hurt, and grabbed the brush to hope the chills would be gone before she arrived at the city bus stop to take her to Riley’s neighborhood. For now, she had to cherish it until then, to prevent a long fear of going to school completely take over her - and strain her to choose staying in bed.

Just recently the bus station around the corner was built, and being nervous that her father or mother would arrive back she waited ten minutes, looking out the windows at the roads and sidewalks. Finding it useless, she walked out of the apartment and down the stairwell, and made it to the sidewalk. She peered back, walking to the station, and front, a few times mistaking a large, gray truck for her dad, and ducking behind bushes to avoid being seen.

A few minutes later, standing, oppressively, waiting for the bus, a notification vibrated her phone. When she checked, it read an unexcused absence was added to her school account; and she quickly put her phone away when the bus, large and hefty in its brakes, filled the front view of Bella; and waited for others, who were sitting at the bench, to get on first.

She paid the bus driver and chose the closest available seat. Once the bus finally began moving, she stared at the window and saw the world pass her, with nothing to do but wait; she was glad though, rubbing the green cloth between her fingers to fidget, she chose her hoodie rather than a sleeveless t-shirt. Luckily the light sweater would give some form of present focus among herself, confiding to cherish annoyances and fears of her destination - missing school for the fourth time this week - would succumb to her, eventually. Now, all was left to do was anticipate.

With the blue skies she usually sees from school, and the sun shining against her hoodie, a sense of contentment then followed. As she walked on the sidewalk after getting dropped off, some houses, glancing at their basic structure, remained under construction revealing the inner, liminal emptiness. That Bella, visioning the path ahead to Riley’s house, was fond of the image her friend’s house sat among many others: the roofs constructed against clean clouds, rectangular eyes on each house watching her be pleased - capitalizing on this confidence, she stops and chooses a small detour.

What was captured in her decisive decision was, as she passed a playground with a slide and swings, she opened to feeling relief, not fearing where she might end up. I could walk in that alley, away and beyond the hills, she thought - I’ll keep going until my shoes wear to nothing. And, before settling on this completeness, even thinking of just turning back and going to school from there - her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out, seeing Riley texted. “I could see you down the street. When you get here, just come in.” She then walked down one street, finally finding the right house and, forgetting what Riley texted, she knocked before entering. Always best to practice good manners, she thought proudly, feeling proper.

She walked in anyway, and closed the door loud enough for Riley to hear; then “I’m in the kitchen, Bella.” She glanced down, and was reminded to place her shoes near the door. As a constant guest, Bella recognized she couldn’t explore, yet, on her own, especially the second floor. Walking a few steps forward, passing the stairs leading up to the less brightened part of the house, she took care to point out all the houses within will look identical and complete as this one, casting observation dreamily as she strolled to the living room. And, around one more corner, she spotted Riley at the kitchen counter, the entrance was located across the dining table, with dark red covers, with white-silver around the edges. She witnessed Riley always go from a smile to a brightened, child-like surprise; “Oh, I’m glad you made it,” Riley said, hugging her.

She turned around, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with jeans, and grabbed two white plates to give to Bella. “Go place these on the table for me,” she said, and added, “My mom made cherry pie yesterday, so I thought we’d have the last two pieces.”

“I’ve been craving something sweet all week,” Bella said, and noticed how soft the plates felt - how nice Riley washed them.

“Perfect then,” Riley said.

Bella was afraid she’d drop the plates, and gently as she can placed them on top of the red cover at the table. Then, thinking, trying to humble herself, she said, “Imagine if I fell while holding these.” She then giggled.

“Maybe later we could break the others. My mom doesn’t care much for things like that,” Riley said, and turning around, took the pie out of the fridge and giggled out of excitement.

“They should make plates just for breaking, you know. Whenever you get frustrated you could go to your cabinet and break them, and they wouldn’t cause any cuts or bruises - just relief,” Bella said.

Then, “You're such a weirdo,” Riley said playfully, and comes and places a piece of pie on her plate. She goes back to close the fridge and back to the diner room, holding her piece, and thought for a second. “Should we eat in the living room or bedroom?” Riley asked.

“No, this is perfect,” Bella said. She looked at her, the light behind her from the windows outlining her eyes, and thought how her eyes would look on hers, and just smiled. “It’s perfect,” she said again, and Riley pulls out her chair and sits.

“Only if you're around,” Riley said and both began eating.

For half an hour, Riley ate her whole piece, and Bella only touched her fork, holding it as she talked, busying herself explaining the journey to her house. Bella appreciated the whole diner room; the window shining behind her and onto Riley, helped accomplish a mix of gloom and well-earned beauty - one balancing out the other. “It’s very clean,” Bella said, unsure how to properly describe how all the details she observed work together as a story, going throughout the house. “I’m in the heart,” Bella said suddenly, - “this is where everyone comes to sit and talk - living obliviously to one another.”

“Why thank you,” Riley said, “if only you saw it in the evening, the whole place would look right out of a teen movie.” Bella takes a look outside through the windows, still in her seat. “I’m reminiscing about when I used to play on the swings before middle school.”

“Without effort?” Riley asked.

“Exactly,” Bella said; and thought how she talked to the other kids like her, and moved just as wildly as her when they would play tag - she loved being the one being chased.

She turned back to Riley, and saw a grin appear. “Should we go upstairs and play?” she said, and Bella smiled, gleefully. They pushed in their chairs as Riley placed the plates in the sink. Bella puts her uneaten piece in the fridge, “I’ll save it for later.” Both then walk up the stairs and down the dark hall, and into the bedroom on the left. “Hey,” Riley said, “Do you still have that brush I gave you?”

“Of course,” Bella said joyously. “Why, you need it back?”

“No,” Riley said. “I just wanted to see if you needed a new one, because I have another and I don’t want it.”

Riley then goes to open her white closet and grabs a smaller version of her house, and sets it down on the floor. Bella goes into one of Riley’s cabinets and fishes out tiny furniture. Riley goes into her closet again and comes back with a set of dolls. “Can I be the dad?” Bella asked.

“I want to be the mom anyway,” Riley said, and handed a small figure of a man with black hair, who carried a small baby in his arms, to Bella.

“I’ll call my baby, Bella, so she could live the most lavish life of all,” Riley said and looked at Bella, as she said, “and I’ll call my baby Riley so Bella can have a baby sister.” Both laughed and played house, setting up the scenes in their head.

They first had a hard time on whether to take their daughters to the mall or a diner; another, they played as the daughters, but this time, deciding who between mom and dad should they go with. The dad wanted to go get ice cream and then head to the park after church; while the mom wanted to go to the mall, for a haircut, and later, go shopping for some clothes. Bella, of all, was disembodied from who she wanted to go with - even if she didn’t know how that was exactly - only knowing if Riley picked first could she then choose and settle.

The sun was reaching that aftermath of a long day, with a light shining against buildings of their new age and unused house. Bella looked out Riley’s bedroom window, its paint job fresh around the edges, but dried; and some walls still needed to be painted; Bella saw on her phone, it was already about to be three. She concluded what she was feeling - and it was fear. “I think I have to go home now, Riley,” Bella said depressingly.

“Okay then. Darn, I was hoping we could watch a movie later.”

“Time goes so fast here, doesn't it?” Bella said, and both started putting away the dolls, the furniture, and the house; and Riley led Bella to the door and waved her goodbye.

Avoiding the open sidewalks where anyone, specifically her mother, in case coming on the same street as Bella could spot her - she sighed - continuing the same road after getting dropped off by the bus. However, Bella knew if her mother did happen to spot her, there wouldn’t be enough patience left over to ask her questions: where and who she must’ve hung out with; and not care where she was supposed to be. Everything that was then, waited for her whenever she returned home. She then crossed the street and went inside the lobby of the apartment complex, and rushed up the stairwell. But thought, and slowed her pace. She thought if she went into the apartment sweating then she'd look exactly how she felt: frightened. The dark hall on her floor illuminated a great ambience to her, walking down and taking a breath before opening the door and closing it. She then listened. Walking forward, she thought she heard what she first thought was her mother, already home, but stepping near the couch she gathered no one was home yet.

The sun was now reaching the lower horizon, only peeking behind the building outside, Bella took a pill to help her sleep, and went up to undress her makeup and rest on her bed. After an hour, however, when she heard stomping of sandals coming down the hall, through the walls, from the elevators to the apartment, Bella then thought: - I knew I was gonna get in trouble for skipping school. I just need the silence to last a bit longer next time. Her mother knocked strongly on her door, and walked in with a furious hand in the air. Bella, then, had no place to go but face her own horror.

Riley? She thought, - come to me, Riley - where are you? “You know I'm always here, right?”