A Year With Connor Haynes

chapter two

chapter two 

       On the Tuesday of the week, I had my math final. It was finals week. To me, though, it always felt like finals week. There was math and science and history and English and reading. So much in such a small portion of time.

        Connor and I didn't see one another that whole week. He was too busy studying and I was too busy worrying what I'd say to him when we did get into contact. Lately I've been hoping for another one of those nights; Sacramento, river, stars, books, conversations. I needed conversation and I needed new places with new things and I craved satisfaction but I was left with only deprivation.

        I told my father this is exactly; how I really wanted to go out and enjoy myself sometime this summer. He thought it was a wonderful that I was finally making another friend, and that made my chest swell with anxiety. Connor was not my friend. We were acquaintances. And even if I did consider Connor a friend, he would never be able to replace Adessa. No one would ever replace Adessa.

        When Saturday hit me in the face, it was probably about seven o'clock in the morning. Friday night had only been consisted of partially reading and partially thinking about Connor, and I had gotten a mere four and half hours of sleep.

           What was it that amazed me about Connor? It wasn't his looks, because even though Connor was quite a sight to look at, he didn't particularly make me think 'cute' or 'hot' or even remotely 'attractive'. He was hyper and happy, and you usually always saw a smile adorned to the boy's lips. I thought that maybe it wasn't his nouns or his adjectives, but more like his verbs. He had shown me things on this Earth that I would've never known existed. I had never studied the stars or listened to the crickets or watched the ripples in the water as they passed. He had physically shown me how to be happy and have fun and share stories as the sun slowly sinks down passed the horizon. . . and I thought that was the most extraordinary thing about Connor.

        I was constantly thinking about when I'd see him again. I needed human interaction. I had spent that entire week locked up in my bedroom, reading and stuck in my own thought process, and I needed to be in contact with something alive and breathing beside myself. My father was working late that week, on the third shift, leaving at ten in the morning and coming home at seven the next. We didn't see each other very often, and when we did, we didn't have anything to talk about. His conversations included stress and work and business and missing mom, and I wanted nothing more than to talk about Connor and his obsessions and hobbies and his recommendations of books.

        He's a pretty kind of freak, I told myself, one day you'll get over him, Claire. 

        Part of me wanted to believe that was true. Connor seemed like one of those boys who walks into your life for a month or two and then casually walks back out like you're still strangers.

        And even though I partially hoped that it wasn't what I thought it was, I needed him out of my life. He reminded me so much of Adessa, just without the shaggy blond hair and weird hazel eyes and a girly voice. He reminded me of happy times and good memories — and he was just a bundled up version of everything I didn't want back.