Sweet Escape

The living room basked in the dim amber light given off of a lamp next to the grey woven nylon couch. The couple was restless, and they shared the cushions atop the sofa, now converted into a bed.

"Can we talk about something?" A worried Angel asked the boy huddled up next to her.

"Talk about what?" In his head ran multiple different scenarios.

"I feel like we're losing control. Like something is slipping away from us. I can't pin-point it."

"Do you mean life? We both saved up some money, you know, you and I could quit, leave home, travel to Europe, spend a few weeks enjoying, indulging, maybe." Alex gently caressed her hair. “We won’t have to worry whether it becomes its own country or not. We got nothing to do with them. It’s not like it’ll happen anyway. We need to look after us.”

"That is if we do have enough—"

"I checked, syrup. There is enough in our accounts. The whole protest thing is going to blow over in a couple days anyway. Those Bearists are just in town for a convention. Nothing is gonna happen.”

"Looks like 'life' is the word I'm looking for, but, sugar, I feel like something is missing. We will be having mom and pop over, and when that's done, what else? Stuck in limbo, few hours a day, five days a week, then it goes on for years."

"I despise it. Loathe it. Yes, we moved in. Yes, we stuck. I still love you to bits." Alex planted a gentle kiss on her cheek while he pondered on. "It's like concrete, with life itself. Sure, you could say it has set. For those of us that understand it fully, you know it will never, ever set. What they mean by 'set' is simply a good-enough stage for it to build on. Over time, it silently sublimates itself, making itself stronger. I hate cycles as much as you. Cycles that don't do anything much."

"So what should we be doing?"

"How many days have you saved up?"

"Last year, I think I have three, no, four, paid vacation days that I had not claimed. Then one more from spring forward where I had to go wrap up something, I guess. I don't have a good memory."

"Check."

A red bar occupied the top-fifth of her film.

You have a total of five unclaimed day-offs over the past year. Plus twelve more further into the past. More info. Dismiss.

“I think we’re okay. I’ll take the next month off.” Angel stared into his eyes in wonder as he laid it out. “We’ll collect those singles and, we’ll fly out of the country. Where we land is your call.”

“Sugar, it’s our vacation.” She caressed his cheek with a hint of naivety. “I don’t want more things tilted my way. What you wanted mattered to me too—"

Alex lowered his face close to her own, kissed her, and closed his eyes. He noticed that their already slow breathing sync up with one another, her temperature slightly warmer.

"What about right now?"

"I've got something planned."

The car moved silently downtown. The town itself was mostly asleep, and the vestiges that held out into the night were dying down.

They slowly cruised into a small town center where there were still a small handful of people up at a concrete-formed square that was approximately the space of a block. On the far corner was a small open bar, its display hung high above the open tables that placed an official entrance.

The only source of sound emanating from the location was from the drinkers. The clashing of glasses, the hushed voices, the occasional bursts of laughter. It wasn’t the usual carefree conversation. People seemed more tense, more hyperaware, perhaps even to sugarcoat it slightly, more vigilant.

It’s more distrust than self-protection. The couple waded through the columns and rows laid neatly inside the hall, the patrons stared for a brief moment before continuing their conversation. Should they notice either of them looking in curiosity, their eyes shift back and forth between themselves and the pair. Fortunately there were no signs of aggression from anyone.

Alex and Angel took a seat at one corner secluded at one corner.

“We are coming up to the end of the century. So why don’t we start from the beginning? Some dance, everyone.” The DJ’s voice came up over the loudspeaker. A cheer from the crowd far off from across the floor. A fade-in of the track from the playlist.

The couple automatically called for whatever was listed as the special. Then the pour. Then the initially-shy sip which turned into a full-on gulp. The final mechanism for self-control kicks in. Then the slow drift. The carrying of her by the arms.

"Care for a twirl, Angel?"

"We haven't done this in a long time." Angel pulled herself up by the strength of him alone.

“That’s why we are doing it now.” Alex grinned at her with a hint of mischief.

Was it the light? Or the influence in the system? They glowed on the mock-wood floor. Alex gently guided his mate slowly in a circle, while she took it and tried to match his light.

They danced with the repertoire that seemed like they practiced the routine for months.

Alex extended his right arm, and spun her in a small spiral that wound onto himself. Angel fell into step, and glided into his embrace. Their little dance climaxed with a kiss.

"Is that where we are heading from now on?"

"Indubitably." Alex raised the hand in which she tugged onto. "Come here."

He enveloped her in their embrace. He then whispered something into her ear that made her giggle with the innocence of a child.

The sudden vibration of her left arm brought it to an abrupt close.

"Take it." He released her and left her to talk.

“Mom?”

“Angel, are you alright? Your father and I are scared stiff.”

“Scared stiff? What do you mean?”

“For a second I thought these damned Bearists got to you. Thank god. Me and your dad will be coming over this week if you’re fine with that.”

“I mean— yeah— sure.”

“We kinda wanted to meet, uh, him. Your brother. Max.” The dad’s muffled voice rang in the background. “Check up on him.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Just keep it quiet.”

Angel giggled. “Okay.”

“Keep us in the know, Angel. Call us. We’re worried.”