June

*Contains mild language

*Contains mild gore

           The large door sucked the air from her lungs as it swung into the room. In the large white frame, there stood a middle-aged woman with messy, black hair and pale brown eyes. Her matte cheeks were reclined, which emphasized the trajectory of her lips, sunken to her chin. She gave April a flat stare, who tried to compensate by offering a small, sweet smile and holding out a vase of flowers. April knew June’s favorite dog breed, her favorite accessory, her favorite kind of chocolate, and she certainly knew her favorite bouquet: lilies as pink as her favorite miniskirt and daisies as white as a stage spotlight.

           Amanda took one long look at April before her eyes shifted to the vase and she gripped the neck of the glass, tugged it to herself, and yanked the flowers out by their heads. She took the fistful of flora and flung them down into the trash can beside the door. She made sure to grab the flowers she missed on the first go, too, tossing them down to join their sisters in the garbage. Then, she thrust the vase to its original owner, using enough force for the residual water to splash up into April’s face.

           Only able to flinch, April gave Amanda a frozen gaze, and when April didn’t immediately take the vase, Amanda shook it and spoke in a low voice, “take it.”

           She was shuddered back to reality by the older woman’s gritty voice. Both of her hands clasped the sides of the vase carefully, and before she could step back, Amanda swung the door shut. She didn’t slam the door in its frame, but instead stopped at the last inch to leave the door cracked. Still, it blew a gust of heavy air back into April’s face, blowing her hair back and sending a rush of cold down the sides of her neck.

           April stood there with heavy lungs and squirmed, clenching and shuddering her shoulders, desperately trying to get rid of some gut-wrenching feelings. She could barely hold onto the vase with her weak, startled grip. All through these rushing thoughts and tremendous emotions, she reminded herself to remain composed, because when she turned her head to look around, she noticed some women at the nurse’s station staring.

           Her throat was obstructed by something nonexistent. She tried to swallow, though only let out a loud gulping sound – like she had just drank a large shot of milk. Instead of standing and waiting for nothing, she knew that the only way she could regain composure was to leave. April lowered one hand and wrapped her scraped fingers around the grip of her single crutch, using it for support as she hobbled down the hallway to a public corridor, as she took an elevator to the lobby and limped out the front doors, and as she called for and climbed into a cab.

           “How did you two meet?”

           “Oh, we’re sisters.” April stated, looking to June, who nodded her head in agreement, noting, “twins, actually.”

           “Twins?” George repeated, his arched eyebrow emphasized by a distinct wrinkle above his brow. “You two look nothing alike.”

           “You ever heard of fraternal twins?” June sneered, scrunching her round nose at the stranger across the table. April laughed, and George remained skeptical. He let out a sheepish laugh, then pressed on, “but you two are, like, wildly different.”

           “Really?” April smirked, the women’s mischievous nature visible from across the room.

           “I mean, first off, you’re Irish –“

           “Moroccan.”

           George looked to April, who was now unamused and unimpressed.

           “Wait, wait, wait...” George narrowed his eyes in disbelief. June, familiar with April’s defensive nature, leaned forward, smiled innocently to George, and interjected, “we met in second grade. We thought it was cool that we were both named after months, so we convinced our class that we were twins.”

           Instantly, it seemed that April forgot about George’s presumptions. “There was that one girl, Taylor –“

           “Oh my god, Taylor!”

           The two women laughed, leaning into one another, while George watched silently.  June rested her head against April’s shoulder to continue laughing while April looked back to George and continued, “so, Taylor, she didn’t think we were twins, but she did think we were magic.”

           “She thought we were dragons, because, you know, it was second grade.”

           “Dragons?” George half-smiled. “Maybe I’m too old – we didn’t have that at my school.”

           “Well,” April persisted, “she thought we were dragons, and she wanted to become a dragon too. So we decided to make her a dragon, by making a potion.” June covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “Gosh, what was it we made?”

           After resting a finger to her chin and looking to the sky, as though the wooden ceiling had the answers, April said, “she wanted to be a fire dragon, so we took a small glass vase and filled it with ketchup, apple juice, sprite, and tomato juice.”

           “It was so nasty.” June leaned forward against the table, looked at George with large, drunken eyes, and smiled wide with amusement at her own memories. George smiled back less genuinely. “As if you would know,” April said, gently punching June in the arm. June laughed, mumble, “owwie,” while April explained, “you didn’t even try any!”

           “You’re the freak for trying it!” June replied, leaning up and returning the punch to the fiery girl beside her, who rubbed her arm while the two kept up their hysterical laughter.

           George stared, realizing that the story had come to an end, though he had to know one thing. “So, she drank it?”

           “The whole thing!” June leaned herself against the table again, quickly kicking herself back to laugh without shaking the whole table.

           “We were in second grade, of course she drank it!” April said, speaking at the same time as June, though she was much more coherent.

           As the two college students laughed, George watched, half-smiling. “We were so mean!” April exclaimed, patting June on the back as they both leaned back and forth, tipsy and giggly.

           “I’d argue you still are.” George noted, unsure if the girls would notice during their laughing fit. However, April noticed, and she gasped, looking at George with an expression that he couldn’t distinguish between amused or genuinely offended. “Wow…” She strung out her response to emphasize her surprise, looking to June, who murmured, “what?”

           “Well, I’ll get going.” George said, pushing himself to his feet. June leaned up, looking between her best friend and the man they had met earlier that night. “What? What did I miss?”

           “This motherfucker called us bitches.” April said in a high-pitched whisper, looking to June with a scoff.

           “It was great to meet you two, maybe we can come to another concert sometime,” he walked to their side of the small, round bar table, tucked his hands in his pockets, and nodded his head once to say goodbye. June shook her head at April before turning her attention to George to say their goodbyes. “We live three hours away but text us. We’ll see. Have a good night!” June said, smiling sweetly, waving a hand to George while April looked to June with a risen eyebrow and a not-so-amused face.

           “Bye…” April’s statement was long and drawn out, overflowing with sarcasm. She stared at June while holding a hand in George’s direction, flapping her fingers, more so to shoo him than to say goodbye. George furrowed his brow, glanced to June, who shrugged, before he walked away.

           June picked up an auburn drink from the table and sipped on it through the small, black straw while April glanced over her shoulder to watch the man leave. “Asshole.”  April leaned her arms on the table, pouting and looking down at her own almost-empty drink, spinning the straw, listening to the small ice cubes tap against the sides of the glass, before taking a sip.

           June shifted her lips to the side in an unamused frown, “maybe it was a joke. He did invite us to go to another concert sometime.”

           April huffed. She looked up, scanned the room, then nudged June, looking to her with a smile. “He’s cute.” She nodded her head towards a man, a little older than George, who was talking with another guy his age.

           “He’s cute, and we need to get going.” June laughed, setting her drink down and sliding off the wooden stool she sat on. “Oh, boo!” April said, smoothing down the fabric of her short dress once she stood up, pulling on a wedgie and walking it out as she came to June’s side. June had to point out, “my mom wants us to be back by three in the morning, and we’re already pushing it!”

           “Ah, it’s not like we live with her – we’re doing our own thing.” April shrugged. “She’s just trying to be a good mom and make sure we’re safe. She cares about us – both of us.” June tapped April’s shoulder, smiling with reassurance. April looked to June with a frown, though she couldn’t keep it when June smiled so warmly.

           “You good to drive?” June asked, and April quickly nodded. “Sober as a slug,” April nodded confidently, receiving a quiet, “ew,” from June.

           The two women walked out the doors and June gave April her denim jacket, which was three sizes too big on April, but she wore it anyway to protect herself from the cold, icy night. They climbed into April’s buggie, argued about who got to play music – even though they knew their playlists were identical – then, April drove off, heading for the interstate.

           The drive was comfortable and steady. They sang along to music, took personality quizzes, and held hands down the interstate.

           It was two-thirty in the morning and June had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Her seat was reclined, her head was tilted sideways to keep her dark, sleek ponytail intact, and she was covered in a blanket they always kept in the car for drives. She looked cozy as ever, and during a brief gas-stop, when June continued to sleep, April pressed a kiss to the side of June’s head, which got June to smile in her sleep.

           They only had ten minutes left to the drive, putting them fifteen minutes late, though April figured that was better than the whole hour late she had made them last time. Even then, how would Amanda know?

           The music was quiet to help June sleep, and April focused on the road with heavy eyes, one hand on the wheel and the other on June’s knee, softly stroking her skin with her thumb. Even under the dim glow of the passing lampposts overhead, June’s dark skin reflected the shimmer. Her skin was warm and smooth, and April thought about the times with her head rested on June’s pillowy thighs, peaceful as she dreamt of getting to the bed in ten minutes and curling her body around June’s under the covers, hoping that Amanda wouldn’t come by in the morning. She had no idea what would happen if June’s mom found them sleeping in the same bed.

           What felt like the bat of an eye turned out to be a solid ten-second powernap, which only ended due to the shockwave through April’s body as the buggie hit a barrier and began to spin out of control.

           As April stood on the doorstep to Amanda’s house, she took deep breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating as she vividly remembered the hot liquid metal in her palms as she held down June’s wounds and wailed for help.

           This was the first time she would be seeing June since she was first taken to the hospital. Neither June nor Amanda had been responding to her texts, but Amanda’s SUV was out front, so they had to be home. This time, April was empty-handed. She knew how June could be about material things, and clearly, that wasn’t enough for Amanda, either.

           She stood there for two minutes, pacing, thinking, panting. She didn’t realize that Amanda was watching her through a security camera, and while crouched down, inspecting the rose bush beside the walkway, the mother opened the front door, her skin shining in the sunlight, just like her daughter’s. She wasted no time before speaking, “how can I make it any clearer I don’t want you here.” It was less of a question, and far more of a statement.

           April’s breath was taken from her lungs, and she stared up at June’s mother, her face resembling that of a guilty puppy. She had never been scared of Amanda before but seeing her standing in the doorway – a barrier between her and June – she was terrified.

           “I understand.” April spoke slowly and thoughtfully. She rose to her feet, turned to Amanda, and said, “but I want to apologize to her.

           Amanda stood there, unmoving, scanning April for anything she may be able to use to make her frustrations clearer. The summer was hot, but that wasn’t the only reason April sweated as she stood before the judge, who was ready to announce a fate of permanent seclusion from June.

           “Apologize?” Amanda spat at April’s feet.

           “Mom.”

           Amanda looked over her shoulder. The voice sent chills down April’s spine. Amanda turned, had a brief and quiet argument, then stepped to the side, but not before giving April one final, fiery look of despise.

           June wheeled forth into the doorway, the sunlight pouring through, revealing the tuffs of wildly curly hair that cradled her cheeks. April began to tremble, and she resisted the urge to look below June’s face, afraid to see the damage that placed her to the wheelchair.

           There was a silence between them as June waited to see what April had to say.

           When there was only more silence, June spoke up.

           “They say I’m gonna need months of physical therapy.”

           April gulped and flared her nostrils to keep tears from flooding her eyes. She stood still and quiet.

           “I can’t shower for another week at least.”

           April took a deep breath and held it to keep herself from bawling. June scrunched her nose to remain composed as well.

           “I probably won’t be able to graduate this year.”

           A heavy, shaky breath left April, and she lowered her head, shutting her eyes, nodding slightly while pressing her lips tight together, muting her frown.

           June’s face distorted into even more frustration and sorrow. There was a prolonged period of silence as she waited for April to speak. Her waiting didn’t last long, before she continued, “Why are you here?”

           Several seconds passed while April stared at the ground, grimacing, squeezing her hands in front of herself. Her voice was hoarse and trembling when she said, “to say I’m sorry.”

           Another pause.

           June rose an eyebrow, leaned forward in her wheelchair, and mumbled with anticipation, “so?”

           “I’m sorry.”

           “You know it’s not okay.” April looked at June’s face, scanning it while nodding, not to find a way out of this reprimand, but to take in all the guilt. “It was reckless.” June sniffled, quickly raising her hand to smear a tear on her cheek, too weak with sorrow to wipe it away entirely.

           April was wailing in her head: “I know, I just wanted to get home, I didn’t want to get us in trouble, I wanted to relax with you, it was a long night, I wanted to hold you, your mom was rushing us.” But none of those words came out. She knew no defense would take the pain away from June, only herself.

           Instead, April said, “I know.”

           There was another moment of silence while June scanned April in search of another judgment, another comment, another thing to keep her angry and to keep her from crying.

           “This ruins everything for us. My mom hates you now.”

           “I know.” April’s voice was gentle and remorseful, followed by a heavy swallow and sigh.

           It felt like every second was a minute. There was another extended pause. It seemed those periods of stillness were endless.

           Neither of them knew what to say anymore. Everything that needed to be said now had been said. But June wasn’t willing to leave it at that.

           “Next time,” June said, pulling her wheels backwards, “bring me a chocolate orange. Then, we can have a real talk.”

           April let out a trembling breath from her nostrils and nodded her head while pressing her lips together, exchanging a painful, longing gaze with June. They stared, and stared, and when June knew that April couldn’t say anything else, she rolled back enough to shut the door and left it at that.

           April remained for another minute, just staring at the door, thinking of what she could’ve said. Then, she called another taxi, and got a ride to the grocery store to get a chocolate orange.