The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(4)

I glance down at her attire, relieved when I see her donning a blue, button-up poplin layered over the top of a pair of white flare jeans that almost entirely cover her bare feet. My reprieve is short-lived though, because each one of her toes is painted…yep, you guessed it.
Her mega-watt grin doesn’t dim in the slightest as she extends her arm in my direction, hand held out for a friendly handshake. “Hi,” she states bouncing on the tips of her toes, “I’m Quinn. Quinn Matthews.”
Watching her ponytail swing from side-to-side as she excitedly springs up and down, I find myself wanting to offer her a valium.
Quinn.
Surprisingly, a pretty cool name.
As I take in her striking appearance...well, as much as I can because it’s really hard to focus on her as she bounds off the floor with an obvious case of “inability to stand still”, I’m taken a bit aback. I would have thought her to be named something more regal, due to her beauty and most likely the whole scepter/tiara combo I spied earlier.
Like Alexandria.
Or Diana.
Perhaps even Princess Fi-Fi, ruler of Unicorn Land, where rainbows reign and all things are pink and sparkly.
That one makes me smile inwardly in spite of my usual morose demeanor.
Before I have a chance to respond, Linda forcefully nudges my shoulder with hers and I break my gaze from Quinn’s blurry face to the hand in front of me, waiting patiently for me to reciprocate. Just the thought of touching someone makes me break out in a cold sweat.
Closing my fist, I tighten my grip and sweep my fingers over my palm in an effort to lessen the clammy condensation forming before finally managing to shake her hand. “Raven. Raven Miller,” I respond curtly.
Simultaneously, Linda expels a harsh sigh and I release my grasp on Quinn’s hand. Turning my head, my mouth pinches tightly and I widen my eyes at Linda, wordlessly requesting her to keep her mouth shut about my name. She mirrors my expression, and then ups the ante by crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip. The repeated taps of her shoe against the white linoleum floor fill the air, breaching the charged silence between us.
But thankfully, she says nothing.
My eyes find the back of my head, ending our silent argument. This form of communication is pretty much the norm for us.
When I redirect my gaze back at Quinn, who has been watching our entire exchange, she offers yet another beaming smile. After a brief moment of taking in my appearance, she merely states, “Raven. It suits you. I like it!”
You have absolutely no idea, Fi-Fi.
She happily pivots away from me on the balls of her feet and I watch as she skips off into a pink oblivion.
Throwing Linda an I-told-you-so look over my shoulder, I head to the bare bed on my side of the room and drop my backpack on the floor beside it. I’m extremely surprised by the lack of horrified expression that I expected to receive from my new roomie. It’s as though she doesn’t even notice the freak factor standing in front of her. I’m going to have to step up my creepiness or I might just end up liking this girl, and that could be very dangerous.
For both of us.
After a quick introduction between Linda and Fi-Fi, we make our way out of the room and back down to the car to gather my belongings, leaving Fi-Fi alone to pink-puke some more while I’m gone. While I grab my luggage out of the trunk, Linda collects all my priceless music posters: Garbage, Hole, Paramore, Poe—some of my all-time favorite female lead bands—and shuts the passenger door with a knock of her hip.
“Don’t bend those,” I remark, luggage in hand. I turn away from her to survey the normal first-day-of-college chaos and observe it as it unfolds, and as I watch the usual feelings of gloom and apprehension begin to coat the inside of my chest.
Although I’d never speak of it out loud, sometimes there’s an overwhelming sadness that manages to seep into my heart whenever I’m reminded that I will never be like any of the people in front of me. I’ll never giggle with my peers, walk arm-in-arm with my best friend or hand-in-hand with the love of my life, or even just allow a contented smile to cross my face. Yet, I watch in awe as all of these moments play out right in front of my eyes.
The simplicity of living astounds me.
But it’s the terror of death that devours me.
Breathing in deeply, I blink away the fire in my eyes and swallow the torturous knot threatening to form in my throat. I can’t afford those luxuries. I won’t allow it. Too many lives have fallen victim, lost due to my mere existence. No. Normality or simplicity will never be allowed to penetrate my walls.
Following Linda’s lead, I head up the cement path in front of me, the forlorn grief setting in that my time with her is drawing to an end. After the death of my parents, she took me in, no questions asked. Her love for me is unfathomable, considering I somehow managed to keep her at arm’s length while she raised me.
She loves me. I know this.
There’s no other explanation for her putting up with my shit for the last ten years.
Purposely withdrawing from the world hoping to never be found, successfully evading every single therapy session and grief counselor she attempted to force upon me, masking my true appearance in an effort to not only keep others safely away from me but also to mark my own death…she has taken my oddities all in stride. Not without mind-numbing lectures mind you, but I think she still holds on to the hope that this lost little girl will one day be found.
I do know, however, that while I will forever remain captive to my darkness, she will still be there loving me as much as I will permit her to. I allow myself a few seconds of comfort in that knowledge, but as I watch her smiling at several passersby, I quickly extinguish the tiny bit of warmth that sparks inside my chest, forcing it deeply into one of the many compartments in my heart before slamming the steel door shut behind it.