Chapter 20

In the darkness of the apartment Dusty lay in her bed and watched the ceiling as passing headlights from cars danced in light patterns across it. "Your place is noisy," Kyera commented from her makeshift bed on the floor.

"You get used to it," Dusty replied, though in fairness she wasn't sure she ever would. Just when she thought she'd acclimatized to the sounds of the city, she'd wake in the middle of the night with a start at the squealing of a siren thundering past.

"Like, where are people going?" Kyera continued. "It's, like, one in the morning, and the cars outside are like rush- hour traffic back home."

"Well, the city is famous for not sleeping."

"But we need to sleep." Dusty shifted her weight so that she was looking towards the window, where the cheap curtains she'd bought did little to block the streetlights from outside.

It was comforting to hear Kyera's voice. Talking together on the cusp of sleep reminded her of how often she'd fallen asleep in her arms, talking about everything and nothing. They would lie entwined together and put the world to rights. On those nights, it was as if nothing else existed beyond their bed, that they were the center of everything. She missed that feeling, that security. But as Kyera changed, the feeling seeped away.

She remembered the night when she'd woken up and found herself alone; Kyera had stolen away up to the roof of the building, sulking. That had been the first crack in their relationship, when she began to lose her blind faith in her.

"You're all better now, right?" Dusty asked, her voice soft and nonjudgmental. She was keen to use her time in the city with Kyera to assess how she was doing and, more importantly, ensure that she was thinking about her future and feeling positive about the world beyond college.

"Well, they let me out," Kyera replied.

"So, now you're out, do you think about what you'll do next? Like, your future?" Dusty kept her voice light, careful not to antagonize her guest. The subject of the future had always been a sensitive one for Kyera, but she surprised her with her up- beat response.

"Actually, yeah, I've been thinking about it all and made some plans."

"You have?" Dusty sat up, startled and intrigued to hear more. Kyera had always been so dead set against making plans.

"Don't sound so surprised." Kyera chuckled. "In the hospital, I had nothing but time, and being in there made me take a long, hard look at my life."

"So what are these plans?"

"I'll tell you, but you can't laugh."

"Why would I laugh?" Dusty queried, bemused.

"Just don't."

"Are you joining the circus or something? Kyera, is your dream to be a clown?" Dusty teased.

"You'll laugh."

"Kyera, I won't. I promise," she said sincerely, drawing closer to the end of the bed so she could make her out in the faint light. Kyera eyes were fixed on the ceiling, watching the patterns of headlights passing by as Dusty had been doing.

"Okay, well." She turned on her side to face Dusty. In the dull light her eyes sparkled as though they had their own power source, twinkling in the darkness. She took a deep breath and then blurted out her plans. "I'm going into teaching. Before you say anything, I know how crazy it sounds. I was hardly a model student. But I want to teach English, and Princeton has agreed that I can come back for a year to get my qualification."

"Kyera, that's amazing." Dusty beamed. She was shocked at how grounded her plans were. Previously, Kyera dreamt of writing an Kyera-winning screenplay or being in the next Nirvana. Her dreams were always so big, but being a teacher was obtainable. It was a dream rooted in practicality and so unlike her.

"Being a teacher would be great, but it's..." Dusty trailed off, not sure how to proceed.

"But it's not very me," Kyera concluded the sentence for her.

"Well, yeah," Dusty admitted.

"I know it doesn't seem like the perfect fit for me, but it is. I love being challenged, and I love literature. And I could use my experiences to reach out and help other troubled kids."

"That's very noble."

"Dusty, you showed me that life carries on. I can't sit around and let my youth just pass me by. I need to make something of myself. I need to honor Kyeri's death." The sparkle in Kyera's eyes was muted by gathering tears.

"I'm proud of you, Kyera," Dusty said, her own eyes growing wet with emotion. "All I ever wanted was for you to plan a future of your own and be happy."

"I'm definitely trying," Kyera admitted. "And my folks are really happy about it. I realize now that I was stupid to try to kill myself, to put them through it. It was selfish."

"Kyera, you were unwell."

"Well, I'm trying to get better now. I have something to work towards and focus on." Her serious expression fell away, and her smile returned. "Thanks for not laughing." She smiled.

"I was holding it in; it wasn't easy." Dusty smirked.

"Yeah, yeah." Kyera continued to smile. "So anyway, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

"Mamma Mia," Dusty joked, her tone deadpan. "Chicago was merely the musical warm up."

"Very funny."

"I was thinking we could go round Central Park and the Natural History Museum."

"Sounds good." Kyera smiled just as outside a police car hurtled past, sirens screaming out into the night, briefly illuminating the small room in blue light. "Seriously, how do you sleep here?" Kyera laughed.

****

Kyera looked down at the tiled circle, faintly dusted with sparkling frost. Each breath she took billowed before her like a cloud of smoke. Fall, it seemed, had departed the city the previous night as they slept, and winter had eagerly taken its place. "Imagine." She spoke aloud the word emblazoned in the center of the circle, a tribute to John Lennon, the member of the Beatles who had been shot and killed in the city many years ago.

Beside her, Dusty also glanced down at the word. The memorial circle was even more poignant for them as they'd both lost someone, in particular Dusty, whose father had been killed by a gunman. "I thought you'd want to see this," Dusty said, her own breath misting before her as she leant against Kyera.

"Yeah." Kyera put an arm around her, and she nestled into her warmth. It felt good to be so close to her; it felt comfortable. But before, each time Kyera had held her close, her body would pulsate with longing, the sexual spark between them just waiting to catch fire. But now the heat of desire was gone, replaced by the warmth of friendship.

Dusty enjoyed her company, had missed her, but leaning against her, she didn't feel the same urges she once had, the same attraction. She wondered if it was because she or Kyera had changed, or maybe both of them. The summer apart seemed to have robbed them of their final feelings for one another, dousing the dying embers of the torch they had for one another.

"It feels nice hanging out together," Dusty said aloud, wanting to see how Kyera felt about it all, if her

"Do you ever wonder, or imagine," Dusty stole from the tiled word, "what things might have been like if we'd not broken up?" She felt Kyera stiffen beside her and pull away from her. "I'm not trying to be difficult," Dusty said.

"There's no point dwelling on what might have been," Kyera said. "We need to deal with what is. I learnt that in therapy," she added in a lighter tone.

"It's good advice," Dusty admitted.

"Besides, we didn't break up. You left."

"And you resent me for that?" Dusty asked, hurt.

"No." Kyera shook her head. "I'm just stating the facts."

After that, each time Dusty tried to draw close to her, Kyera move away from her. Before, she'd so casually thrown her arm around Dusty, and it had felt so normal, so natural, but now she was keeping Dusty at arm's length. Whatever she had said, she hadn't liked it.