Page 24 of Aftershock

I remember that dress. She looked mesmerizing. People actually still talk about that outfit to this day. Lexi was even named the best dressed by Harper’s Bazaar Magazine. That look was somewhat iconic. Her words pulled me out of my thoughts just in time. A second longer, and I would’ve been drooling.

“What is your biggest fear?”

“Being alone. What's your favorite color?”

Motioning to her current outfit, she glared at me. “As if it’s not obvious.”

I looked her up and down, taking note of her black attire before responding, “So pink then?”

“Definitely,” she said, her voice oozing with sarcasm. “What is your favorite animal?”

“Cats because they are relatable. I also want to slap people and knock things over.” Lexi tried to hide the beginnings of a smile before it took form, prompting me to ask, “What? Is that not an acceptable answer?”

She shook her head, dismissing my question. “No, it’s not that,” she explained. “It’s just, now that I think about it, you definitely give off black cat vibes.”

“Whoa,” I held out my hands in front of me. “No need to bring race into this.”

Lexi flung the AirPods I had thrown at her earlier back in my direction. I yelped and bent my leg to shield myself from the impact as the headphones hit my thigh with a loud slap.

“Don’t be stupid,” she demanded while narrowing her eyes at me.

“Oh, and now I’m dumb?”

“Autumn, don’t make me come over there and slap you,” she pointed her finger at me. “Cause I’ll do it!”

I smiled and put my hand over my heart before saying, “It would be an honor to be slapped by a fellow black cat.”

“Oh my god,” Lexi mumbled. “You’re impossible.”

I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. “You know what? You were right. We are never going to get through these questions.”

“Tell me about it,” she said while throwing her head back in frustration.

“Okay, fine. Last question,” I announced as I leaned forward. “What is your biggest dream?”

This may have sounded like an ordinary question, but it was so much more than that, and she knew it. In an interview she did a few years ago, someone asked her the same thing, and she replied with, “The gorilla from King Kong.” Because of her answer, it sounded as though she took the question literally instead of figuratively. People ended up posting that clip and tagging her in it for months to follow. The misinterpretation of that specific question was actually one of the things she’s widely known for. Even people who didn’t listen to her music knew about that moment. It had become somewhat of a running gag.

Lexi let out a heavy laugh. “I swear it was a joke! I just wanted to give a silly answer! Apparently, no one understands my sense of humor,” she murmured the latter part of her explanation before also saying, “My actual biggest dream is to get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Fuck you for that one,” she shook her head slightly.

“I just had to ask the really important questions while stuck here. It may be the only chance I get.”

Our laughter subsided, and we were left in the stillness of the room. We sat silently, and I thought about how peaceful this felt. Just beyond the doors, there were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people running around, bumping into each other, frolicking about in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Soon, I would be sucked back into the same monotonous routine, too consumed with the demands of my own life to be able to focus on anything that really mattered. Beyond the bathroom, real life awaited me—my dad's funeral awaited me. Because of that, I never wanted to leave, but real life was calling, screaming at me to return from the safe haven I had somehow managed to find. Lexi had responsibilities to get back to, and so did I. There was no way to escape the impending, inevitable reality that we would soon leave and forget each other.

Is that how my dad felt when he left?

Maybe once he stepped foot out the door, it was easier to forget us.

I guess I'll never know.

The doctors said he died of a heart attack—stress-induced, probably. Sometimes, I regretted not reaching out. I couldn’t figure out if I pushed him away to spare me the pain and disappointment of when he would inevitably disappear again or if it was to ensure that he knew how it felt to never hear from your family again.

What was that saying? It's better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all. I didn't want to look back and wonder, “What if?”

Too late now. Maybe it was for the best that we never spoke again.

“You know, I wonder if all earthquakes lead to this much self-realization,” I thought out loud.

“Only when you're trapped in a room with the right person.”

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