Chapter 3

                                                            -Aure-

“Who are you?”

Who was I? As I recalled the conversation that I had earlier with that nameless, mysterious and ridiculously handsome guy, I couldn’t believe how he so blatantly asked me that. But even more than that I couldn’t believe that I actually answered him.

“Aurelia…Aurelia Smith,” I had said to him and without hesitation.

Why didn’t I hesitate? Hesitation was always my MO when it came to engaging others. But I didn’t.

His momentary bouts of silence were frightening, as despite the comfort that he somehow provoked from me, in the back of my mind, I kept the common sense that I did not know him and that he had me locked in the boys’ bathroom with him.

Still, in his silence, I could tell that there was a reason for it. He obviously was feeling a confusion akin to my own. And maybe a sense of intrigue. Just as I did.

I usually was never one to carry on a conversation with anyone. In past situations, I made it a point to end the conversation and leave the situation as fast as possible. I am, after all, a very introverted person. This time, however, I found myself hoping that the conversation wouldn’t end.

Pitiful, it was completely pitiful.

Admittedly, I hadn’t realized how much of a hole I’d had in my heart concerning dad’s death until I bumped into him earlier that day.

It’s amazing the things one unconsciously avoids when battling through grief and depression. My therapist told me that before mom and I picked up and moved to Washington. Funny, I didn’t fully understand what he meant until now.

I was glad that the day was over, and even happier when I arrived at my dorm room to see that no one was there. I knew I had a roommate, but I was glad her absence gave me the time that I needed to decompress and mentally prepare myself to engage her.

Quickly, I finished fixing up my side of the room and grabbed a shower. I immediately collapsed onto my bed and closed my eyes for a second. My moment of solace was short-lived, however.

“Hey there!”

Her rambunctious greeting immediately made me sit up. I watched the petite young woman come into the room with a few bags in hand.

She had flouncy purple curls, and her eyes were large and naturally set to excitement, even in her seemingly calm state. Her nose was pointy and kind of small, but in a whimsical way and there wasn’t a blemish to be seen on her tawny skin. She had a beauty about her that seemed almost fairytale, but not in a typical way.

I’d imagine in this girl’s fairytale; she’d most certainly be a damsel but not in distress. She looked like she’d be the heroine of her story.

Getting all of that just by one look. I envied the energy she exuded.

“Hi!” I finally returned her introduction with a little more energy than I’m sure was needed. I didn’t want to come off as fake. After all.

She gave me a small smile as she hobbled all of her things into our shared dorm.

The girl almost didn’t seem to be having hardly any trouble bringing the stuff in. Still, I decided to help her anyway; she was my roommate after all, and besides, it didn’t hurt to leave a good first impression.

“Let me help with you that!”

 “Oh! Thanks!” she countered with gratitude. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Judging by the way that you’re carrying all of this stuff, I’d be willing to wager that you’re right about that. Still, though, couldn’t just sit there and watch you haul all this stuff in by yourself just because you could.” [

The young woman dropped her things by the side of her bed and smiled at me. She then quickly shot out her hand toward me.

“Madison…Madison James is the name. It’s a pleasure,” she waited for me to finish her sentence with my own.

“Aurelia…Aurelia Smith.”

“Aurelia, huh? Well, that’s a cool name. Like Aurora with a twist.”

“Hahaha, yeah, I guess my dad was trying to be creative when he named me.”

“A daddy’s girl. Cute.”

Madison James turned around to start putting her things away, but she kept the conversation going nevertheless.

“I take he’s the one who helped set you up here, huh?”

“No, he’s not.” I replied. Should I tell her that he’s dead? Nah, don’t want to put a damper on things.

“Ah, okay. Yea, where I’m from they think it’s a show of tough love when they make you do it on your own. Shows independence and such.” Madison stopped what she was doing to do a mocking gesture to back up how ridiculous she seemed to think the notion was.

It was funny.

“Do you need any help with that?” I asked.

“Oh no, I’m good thanks. I like things a certain way and I don’t want to be barking orders at you on our first night meeting each other,” she chortled.

She wasn’t even remotely finished but apparently thought that she had done enough to take a break, so she sat on her bed opposite me.

“So, where are you and your family from?”

“Oregon,” I said.

“Oregon? You’re a long way from home. Guess that’s par for the course when you’re going to college. What made you go out of state?” she asked.

Now should I tell her? Nah. “We just wanted to start over.”

She didn’t have to know that we moved because my father died in an unknown freak accident, that, to this day, I don’t know all the details about.

“Start over?” she chuckled again. “Well, that doesn’t sound good, does it?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“No one chooses to start over when they’ve had a good life.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I confessed. “Guess I didn’t play my cards close enough to my chest with you.”

“You didn’t,” she smirked. “But, in your defense, it’s pretty hard to get anything pass me.”

“I see,” I replied with a chuckle.

 I picked up a book that I was about to read before she walked in and opened the pages. I don’t know why I did that; I wasn’t in the mood to read anymore. She’d found out that I was here because something happened in my life-something drastically life-changing. She figured it out, the least that I could do was tell her.

“My father…he died five months ago…unknown causes.” I added in, hoping that she wouldn’t try to delve too deeply into the how of his death. “It’s…not been easy,” I confessed. “For me or my mom.”

“Never is,” she said. “When losing a parent. “I lost my mom not too long ago too, but it’s almost expected with our lifestyle-oo!”

Lifestyle? What did she mean by that? I wanted to know. I wanted to ask, but I could tell that she had slipped up when she said that as if she wasn’t allowed to talk about it. So, I didn’t ask.

“It’s okay,” I quipped. “I’m not going to get all up in your business.” I laughed when I saw the relief on her face.

She laughed. “I like you.”

And so did I as I realized. “Dido.”