1.1 | Lost & Found

xv. dakota

I N D I G O

It's feels good to be able to let out your feelings and not have anyone question it. Like the other when I came back red-eyed from silently crying all the way on the bus, Olivia didn't say a word, even though I'm sure she noticed. And Dakota noticed too which is why I'm sure the only reason he asked me to meet him during his after-school job was to make me feel better.

If there ever was another version of Dakota Clarkson, I think I've missed it. As far back as I can recall, he's the happy one, a human born of pure sunshine. I'm a thinker, sure, but Dakota is a feeler. He feels while he plays with the kids at the Orphanage he volunteers at every friday, he feels when he plays the piano too loudly in our living room. He feels all the time, like he is now, while helping kids finger-paint at the art store he works in every day.  Ezra encouraged him to get a job and I don't think there's a better place in town for Dakota to work in other than the Art Store. 

Most of the time, I have no clue what my not-so-much older brother is thinking. I've come to realise that I know him better than I know any of my siblings, right after Isaac, but Isaac is different: His mind is the Mariana Trench, and there are depths I'll never see. And that's okay. He can contain the secrets of the universe and keep every last one to himself for all I care, as long as he's still a kid sometimes. But Dakota is the opposite: He's an empath, feeling every colour in the wind, and that's something I think I would love to try out. 

After coming back from school, I make it back in time to see our house with no one in it. There's thirty minutes I spare for myself before I start to study. Peace. Tranquillity. Calm. Some other words that you should know that do not exist in my dictionary with so many people living under one roof. For a moment everything is quiet and I can only hear the dull roar of cars as they speed down the road and the slight sound of the burgeoning wind as it plays with the rustling leaves in the trees. There's a dull sort of calm that has settled like an invisible layer over our apartment. I sit there rubbing my sore muscles and eating a bowl of watermelon, the snack I always eat before I start homework.

The thing is, I love the way the peaceful calm settles over me as I sit in the quiet libraries or cafes. I welcome the silence. Silence replaces the words. And words have the potential to make or break someone. Unfortunately for my case, words have broken me many times over.

I've taken calculus, higher level. I'm not sure it was a good decision. It's the only course I'm struggling in. After completing all of my assignments within the next three hours, I keep aside an hour for a mini calculus assignment.

Ideally, it should have taken an hour like the teacher said, but now it's been well beyond that and apparently John is moving at a speed of negative 2.3 kilometres per hour. That can't be right. I need help. I move to the living room where Isaac is watching a football match. 

"Hey, Dakota?"

"Yeah, Indie?"

"Do you know basic calculus?"

"I like your sense of humour."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Dakota..."

"Basic Calculus. There exists no such thing as 'basic' mathematics. Those two words don't fit in the same sentence together. This is actually a good reminder about why I'm an arts kid. But hey, I can give it a try if you want."

The way Dakota says it isn't very convincing, but I'll take all the help I can get, so we get to work. But in an hour, it becomes clear why Dakota too has taken all his high school subjects as higher levels courses except maths. John is still moving at a negative speed but now it's only changed from negative 2.3 to negative 1.5. 

If I haven't already made it clear, I hate John.

Maybe I can ask Isaac when he gets back. Isaac wields his intelligence like a crackling bolt of lightning. . Or maybe not. It will sound silly, and he deserves a break. I'm sure there's a guardian angel out there who can help me with the problem. 

Dakota and I reach a point where we start rewatching a tennis match because we can't care less about John who's starting to make us feel inferior. I sneak a glance at Dakota. In more ways than I can count, Dakota has saved my life even if he doesn't know it. 

Sometimes, we need someone who will remind us that we are deserving of happiness. That our past doesn't make us unworthy of our future. That there is beauty in healing and growing and learning from the very past that destroyed you. Dakota Clarkson was that person for me. He made me believe in a future I yet have to grow into. And he doesn't fail to remind me everyday that my dreams and desires from life are valid. 

You simply can't keep choosing someone who doesn't choose you. You can't. Because your person is going to be your person for the rest of your life. Not just when things are shiny and perfect, but also when things are messy and dark. Mom was never there for me, and despite having problems that come with the alcoholism of hers that I ignored, she never tried to get over it. She continued her addiction, a living reminder to me that my imaginary 'normal' was never that 'normal' at all. So most of my disappointment and anger is directed towards her. Because there are things in life that are difficult. Really difficult, dark, haunted things that make life heavy and hurtful sometimes.

But love should never be one of those things.

Love should hold your hand and help you brave the storms. Love should be your safe space. Perhaps I shouldn't have given the best parts of myself to a mother who wasn't as receiving. The more I look into it, the more I see her facade crumbling.

There are so many 'maybe's, that at some point, I think we all just stopped feeling. 

But now, around Dakota, I can finally let some light in.

And it feels like a warm hug.

* * *