Page 15 of Heavensent & Hellbent

7

“You look really tired, Rox,” Ehsan commented the next morning. We were having leftover pizza for breakfast. My bones were rusty. After seeing that cold version of my mother, I couldn’t go back to sleep. She rarely entered my dreams—I often wished she would, so that I could see her. But not like that.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a large bite of a veggie slice. Even though I’d put it in the microwave, the cheese was still a little cold, though the crust was piping hot. I didn’t have the energy to try again, so I carried on eating, then took a long sip of my coffee.

“Is your room not comfortable?” Dad asked, his mouth full, crumbs settling on his mustache. At his suggestion, we were sitting around the dining table. He wanted us to be a proper family, as if eating cold pizza because the fridge was empty was normal.

“I had the dreams again,” I said.

He stopped chewing and put what was left of his pizza down on his plate. With the same hand that he had been using to hold his pizza, he rubbed his eye. “That’s the last thing we need,” he said with a sigh. “It must be the move. It’ll stop. You know how to cope with it now, don’t you?”

No.But I nodded. “Yeah, kind of.” I looked to Ehsan. He was reading the graphic novel I’d bought him, using his glass of orange juice to keep the left page open while eating his pizza messily, the pages now stained from grease and condensation.

“Ehsan, can you grab my phone from my room?” I asked.

He glanced up at me like I had asked the most ridiculous question. “Why can’t you get it yourself?”

“I’ll watch another Marvel film with you tonight if you do.”

He considered this for a few seconds, put his own pizza down, and then bounded up the stairs.

“You shouldn’t order him around,” Dad scolded.

“Mum was in my dream last night,” I blurted out.

Silence. The air suddenly thick. I pushed down the urge to change the subject to something more palatable.

“Right,” he finally said.

“It made me think about how she died…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Could barely even think it. But I had to. “Why do you think she didn’t brake on the motorway?”

It was like I had slapped him. His eyes shot up at me, his lips curled in anger.“What?”

“I just…” It was hard to ask the question with conviction now. Instantly, I regretted it. “We never worked out why she didn’t stop, how she ended up in the ditch,” I continuedslowly, like I was testing out the words, watching the way his jaw twitched. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Roxana,” he said, voice terse. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up out of nowhere, but you need to stop.” He stood up, his chair scraping against the vinyl floor.

“She was in my dr—”

“A dream is just a dream. It’s not an excuse to ask silly questions,” he interrupted, voice raised.

My eye twitched. He was always unreasonable, hot and cold, even before Mum died, but it had only gotten worse when she passed.

Ehsan returned, throwing my phone down on the table, which might have annoyed me if I hadn’t been battling my dad’s look of rage-filled disappointment.

Getting up and taking my phone with me, I went straight to my bedroom, hearing Ehsan complain, “Well, what was the point in me getting it, then?”

I slammed my bedroom door shut, grabbed a pillow from my bed, and pushed my face into it, letting out a tiny scream.

Ten minutes later, I pulled myself together. That involved leaving the house without telling anyone and figuring I would deal with the consequences later.

Today, like yesterday, was baking. So hot that I was more conscious than I thought possible of each of my limbs, and the way my thighs rubbed together. Our stuff still hadn’t arrived, so I wore an outfit similar to yesterday’s: my black tiered maxi skirt, a black tank top with an oversized pistachio-colored silk shirt on top, and my trusty Doc Martens loafers.

My legs carried me to my destination, like it was instinctual. As I turned the corner and approached Cory’s, my heart began to beat more quickly.

When I pushed the door open, the cool breeze of the air-conditioning welcomed me. I basked in it briefly. The same hostess greeted me. “Back again?” she said, beaming. I nodded and was led to the same seat as last time.

Once I was seated, she handed me the menu. I put it down on the table and asked, “Is Zain here?”