Page 62 of Severance

Mikah grabs a beer from the fridge and pulls up a chair. His eyes seek mine and he pops the cap without looking at it. I’m sure he’s done it so many times that he can do it in his sleep.

“Are we going to talk about the kiss?” I ask in a nervous whisper.

His jaw clenches. “Why?”

“You know why.” A rush of panic courses through me. It’s a perfect catch-22 situation he’s put me in. We can’t talk about Dakota, and talking about the kiss without talking about Dakota isn’t happening.

“Look, there’s nothing to talk about, okay?” He shakes his head as if it was just some friendly peck on the cheek, and I’m wondering if he’s lying and he’s been thinking about it too. However, I don’t know how to ask about it without making a fool of myself. What if it didn’t mean anything to him? I’m not sure if it should mean anything to me either, but somehow, it does. It means a whole lot.

“What do you mean there’s nothing to talk about?” I ask, pushing down a wave of defeat.

“You had some drinks. I did too. It was an accident.” Mikah pauses.

My heart trips. “Okay.”

“It’s better if it’s this way, Alana.” He sets his beer aside. “I might be leaving for a while and I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Panic settles in my stomach. All I do is nod.

“I sent my demo tape to a small indie label in Seattle last year and they reached out to me a couple of weeks ago. They want to meet and possibly set up some acoustic shows for summer and I want to do it. Ineedto do it.”

I feel like he just punched me in the gut. There’s a scream forming in my lungs and tears prick the back of my eyes.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions under control. My gaze slides to the unopened boxes in the living room.

“I don’t know.”

“But…why now?” The truth is, I want to know why so soon? Or why is he leaving at all when I’m here? This sudden move makes no sense.

“Because people like me don’t get a lot of opportunities, Alana.”

“But what about me?” My question comes out in the form of a pathetic whimper. The beer’s finally talking.

His tone softens. “I’m not leaving you. You can still text me or call me at three in the morning.” I see a hint of a smile.

“It’s not the same.”

He takes a deep breath and runs his palms over his wet hair. “I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for both of us. For me and for him. This wasn’t just my dream. This was his dream too and his music deserves to be heard. All the songs he wrote but never got the chance to sing. Theyneedto be heard.”

The words rattle inside my head, bitter and despondent. I know they’re supposed to sound hopeful, but to me, they’re just sad. “Why are you telling me all this?” I choke back the tears.

He leans forward and stares at me unblinkingly for a few moments. “I’m telling you this because I care about you, Alana.”

My heart’s beating frantically, as if it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. His hands lie flat on the tabletop and a desperate part of me expects for him to reach out to me, but he doesn’t.

“What am I going to do when you leave?” My voice is rough and low, and my mouth is dry. I’m turning into a blabbering mess again.

“What did you do before me?”

It’s a simple and straightforward question, but I can’t seem to dig the answer out from the chaos my mind has become. Right now, I can’t remember anything before him. It’s like the attack has suddenly erased everything that my life was before Joseph Miller walked into The Crystal Room with a gun and started shooting, and it scares me.

When no response follows, Mikah takes a swig of his beer and asks, “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” It’s random and doesn’t feel like him, and I wonder if he’s just trying to soften the blow.

“Is this you throwing me a pity party?” I laugh through a curtain of tears.

“It’s either that or you can help me rob a bank.” A smirk tilts the side of his mouth.

I’m in shock because, apparently, Mikah Bennett has a sense of humor.

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