Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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"I don't think I can do this again," Clementine said slowly.
"What do you mean?" Zico asked. "Do what?" Zico asked her in earnest.
"Lose you again and while also...loving you." Clementine said.
"Why are you speaking like that?"
"Like what, Zico?!" Clementine got up, grabbing her bad which was now on the floor. "No, I have to go. I'm getting a headache."
Clementine felt a strange sense of pain in her right side temple, as if a spiritual reaction.
Zico got up, as if shocked to hear that she felt pain too and as if she shouldn't have been feeling it.
He tried to come close to her, kiss her. But Clementine pushed him away.
"Stop. I just...need to go." And before he could say anything, she slammed the four door on her way out and ran down the stairs.
She literally ran a few blocks, letting the adrenaline pumping through her veins take her where her eyes could see until she stumbled upon a taxi, which serendipitously took her home.
The drive gave her a chance to cool down. To process, to at least try, to process what had just happened.
"I can't believe it," she muttered under her breath, to herself, causing some strange looks from the cabby.
When she got dropped off at home, she didn't even bother to mask that she was gone.
Something broke inside of her, and she felt a strange sense of liberation.
She stomped through the front door, where her parents were having a drink in the living room, both surpassed to see her.
Her mother, placed her drink down on the table, and asked Clementine directly; "where have you been?" Clearly jolted from Clementine's arrival, considering they dint even know she was gone.
"Where do you think?" Clementine reposed al little too roughly for her own liking.
"Clementine," her father got up and grabbed her arm strongly enough to stop her but gently enough to not hurt her. "You're not going anywhere, sit down."
Now she was really trapped, but she had no choice. She was ready to come clean.
Ernesto showed up at the door, hearing all the commotion. When he saw Clementine, his eyes narrowed and showed an alarm before regain his professional composure.
"Do you need anything, señor?" Ernesto asked, more for Clementine's sake than for somebody else.
"No, Ernesto, we're fine. Thank you." Her father had an uncanny ability to be stern yet kind at the same time.
Clementine wondered how she must have looked at that moment. A bit disheveled for sure. Slightly sunburnt. Too skinny. High off of a love that was no more.
Ernesto nodded at them and bowed out of the room.
Then the three of them were sitting there. Her parents on one sofa, and her on a love chair facing them.
She had a senes that everything was happening too quickly.
"Care to explain yourself?" Her father asked.
Clementine stayed silent, knowing she was tantalizing her parents but doing it anyway. She was on her worst behaviour and yet she didn't see how she could do anything but.
It was her mother who broke the silence first.
Looking at her with that all knowing look, she finally said, "it's that boy, isn't it."
Her father looked surprised, as if he wasn't thinking much of that possibility.
"Well, you'll begad to know, that that boy is no longer a problem." Clementine said, her arms crossed, shielding herself in defence across her parent's shots.
Clementine's mother smirked, "what did I tell you?"
And though clementine didn't think that she meant to sound malicious, she somehow did, and Clementine flashed back to the night when she met her mother dunk on the balcony, telling her that boy will 'never love her' and that this was all a mistake.
Suddenly, it was ink Clementine forgot that she left Zico and she wanted to defend him.
But remembering the most recent events, she knew that this was a line that he was aching towards ever so closely until he finally crossed it and walked a mile.
