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The room was painted with a yellow hue by the ceiling lamp. A small coffee cup sat on the small, wooden table, dirty with the leftovers of the bitter content; beside it, a half empty pack of cigarettes.
It was a warm, summer night, one of those nights where college students went partying and families gathered outside for a barbecue. But neither of those lived in that house. Only a woman of about forty; skinny, with curly hair that covered her face. She studied the white, porcelain cup adorned with eastern motives. Her thoughts ran everywhere without reaching a destination; from the grocery store to her day at work to the dog she saw at the park, she tried to avoid the only thought that plagued her every dream and nightmare.
So, she concentrated on the latest book she read and what she had for lunch and her basement with a wine cellar; wine that would never be there because she didn’t drink, not anymore. But sobriety is futile when you have a half empty pack of cigarettes beside you; a pack of cigarettes that she took before heading out back, on her small porch.
The woman sat with her shoes on the grass, her eyes, dark and lifeless, looked at the starry night sky on the horizon. She took a lighter from her pocket, the most ornate accessory she owned; orange with purple and blue mandala. She took the first, or maybe third, cigarette of the night and pressed it between her lips, she lit the small tool and moved the trembling flame at the end of the white part.
Her lungs filled with smoke and nicotine before she exhaled, leaving only a small trace that brought her a little bit closer to death.
While she distracted herself with that poison, the only savior for her ever-moving mind, her eyes never strayed from the tiny sparks that decorated the black sky. Despite having fought with her life to be able to see the sun, she hated that annoying ball of fire and gas, which was now on the other side of the planet.
She took another hit when that spiteful thought tried to enter her mind once more, she placed her gaze on the trees no more than twenty meters ahead. Even if her most painful memories happened in the woods, she had never been able to get away from them. Tonight, however, she didn’t feel the hate she usually did towards the pines, because there was a figure standing between them.
A woman, who was also around forty, dressed in a greyish purple shirt and a long, black skirt. Her hair looked as if she had never taken the time to properly comb them. The woman didn’t bother to stand up to greet her, waiting for the other to walk past the dense trees and come to her.
And so she did, with measured steps, before sitting down next to the smoker. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other”.
“Well, it’s not like I can exactly come to your house”, she said before exhaling another cloud of smoke, “That’s your job”.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy”. For a moment, silence fell between the two.
“Why are you here, Meredith?”, the woman asked, putting out the cigarette and throwing it in the ashtray.
“Can’t I come visit an old friend?”, the girl dressed in purple said with a small chuckle.
“You haven’t brought either a bag of fruit or bread, which means that you’re not here to chat”.
Meredith sighed. “You’re right, I’m here for a reason, and that reason is exchanging two words with you”.
“Of course. After all, there’s no one more talkative than me”.
“I’m serious, Nightshade”, the woman said bluntly. She was many things, but blunt was not one of them, which is why her friend turned to look her in the eyes; a small invite for her to continue.
“Did you have a good day at work?”.
The two had the most normal conversation that one could imagine. They talked about anything that there is to talk about, for hours and hours. Constellations turned and late night transformed into early morning, but neither of them was tired.
Nightshade felt a strange feeling in her chest, as if her instinct was telling her something that she could not decipher. A strange quietness had taken her, a sense of peace that she didn’t remember ever feeling before
.
Her whole life had been a rush, a struggle, with her only objective being to survive to see the next day, to breathe for just a few hours more. The price she had to pay for that was blood red, a shade that would stain her hands until the earth would claim her body, and the world would forget her existence.
She had never been given a choice in the matter; all other paths had been taken from her. Except for one. A path that led her to the porch of that house, after being forced to swim in a blood bath.
So that calmness that had taken over her senses must have been a warning sign.
However, she decided to think about that later, because she knew that peace would soon be gone, because it wasn’t brought by nicotine. Because Meredith was there.
The two had always been like bread and butter, no one had never known a friendship like theirs. Since they were little, they were always at each other sides, before tragedy struck. From that point, they had not seen each other for centuries.
Even then, everything that Meredith did was for none other than Nightshade.
Their reunion had been in the apocalypse. Nightshade had lost everything she held dear, her only purpose in life ripped from her into the arms of the void. One would have fought that all strength would’ve left her, that she would let nature run its course and death would come to her.
But, sometimes, anger is as good a reason.
She found another objective, a new purpose. She refused to die before reaching it, and Meredith was more than happy to be beside her best friend again.
The two gathered other survivors, people who had lost all hope except for one; that not them, but perhaps someone else, would keep on going.
The battle had been bloody, but none of them was a stranger to blood. Their army of refugees was fueled by a thirst for vengeance or justice, mostly by both. Nightshade had been given the most important task, something that only she and Meredith knew about.
When everything was over and the universe had been swallowed by silence, those who had survived tried to rebuild what was lost.
In that uncertainty that always followed a lost war, or a won one, Meredith clung to life by a thread, almost ripped. Sleep had taken her, but death hadn’t claimed her; instead, it waited for the woman to give up. From that point, they had not seen each other for moths.
Even then, everything that Nightshade did was for none other than Meredith.
The journey to recovery was jagged and foggy. Meredith did not have any other purpose, nor objective, to keep fighting. One would have fought that all strength would’ve left her, that she would let nature run its course and death would come to her.
But, sometimes, love is as good a reason.
And now, on that porch, with the first ray of light shining through the trees, Nightshade understood what she felt. Gratitude. She was grateful for that conversation, because she knew that it would soon be over.
Meredith got up, followed by the other woman.
“Well, I have to go, and you need to sleep”.
The smoker agreed with a smile, an expression that her lips rarely made. There was a minute of silence before the two hugged each other. How long had they got without one?
“Would you come visit me again?”, Nightshade asked.
Meredith smiled. “I think next time you will come visit me”.
And so, the woman dressed in a greyish purple shirt and a long, black skirt vanished, leaving her friend with a feeling that she would never see her face again.