Displaced

Timber - Thirty-Three

Lucky - that's what my best friend Nate always called me. I always got lucky. I got lucky with my big break on my first try. I got lucky in that I get to do what I love every day. I got lucky that I came from a supportive family that helped me keep a level head. I got lucky in finding a great girlfriend who's not like the rest of the typical entertainment scene, understands it, and has passions of her own. That luck continued. Getting to be with Chevelle was a stroke of luck. She's so much saner than I would be, than I should be, but something about her sanity kept me from flipping out as well.

There's a lot to process. Chevelle writes a lot about that, processing, and how it takes time. Most of my life, I've had it fairly good. In fact, it wasn't until I arrived on the Achlivans ship that I even remotely saw what it was like to be a lower-class citizen. Not to say that I've always grown up with wealth, but I've always been comfortable. If my parents struggled with money, they never let on. Then I made my own money and my own name. I'm twenty-one and set for life. On the Achlivans' ship, I was second-class, and low on the totem pole. Because I was male.

Call me old-fashioned, but that wasn't something easy for me to accept. Naturally, to cope, I decided to overcompensate to hide my insecurity. I'm used to being the provider. The thing is, in my new living arrangement, there wasn't a whole lot I could provide.

Still, I was determined to try.

I cleaned up my mess after Lara went to the park. We were on day three of being on the Achlivan ship. Time passes strangely on the ship. I'm not convinced that a full day is truly a day. My internal clock liked to argue a lot with the intervals that the "sun" rose and set with. Sleep was never something that came easily to me, though. Somehow I managed on the ship. Listening to the girls breathing, soft snoring, and quiet murmuring lulled me into a comfortable rest. I attributed it to the fact that I was not alone. I never slept when I was alone. Keep in mind that I didn't say "sleep well," I mean, I never sleep. For some reason I just stay awake, which sucks when I'm on my own because of work. Talia used to video chat with me through the night, watch me sleep while I cuddled with a giant stuffed red dog.

She put up with so many of my quirks. That's probably why we were able to stay together. She said she loved me despite them – not because of them, but despite them. And they were all things I didn't want to show Chevelle.

Once everything was finished in the kitchen, I rejoined her in the living room. "Are you ready to explore? Because I'm ready to show you around. Some fresh air will do us both some good."

She gave me that look again. You know, the one you get from people that makes you wonder if you grew an extra head. Her head cocked to the side slightly, her brows did a mixture of furrowing and raising, and her lips pursed ever so slightly. I hated that look.

"What?" I asked.

"You're just so..."

"What?" I pressed. If she said perfect, I think I would scream on the inside. Perfection was a word I loathed to hear.

Chevelle shook her head. "I'm not sure how to describe it. Strange? I guess that's the word. You're kind of surreal, in more ways than one."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that, but okay." I shrugged, trying to let it just roll off my back. Maybe she was more perceptive than I gave her credit for, or I was a pretty crappy actor after all.

"If I can think of a way to explain it, I will. Let's go get that fresh air then since you seem to think it will help." She put on her shoes.

I put on mine, wishing I had my sandals. For the event at the mall, it had been recommended I wear a pair of sneakers or boots. Being on my feet all day was going to kill my arches, and the weather wasn't going to be sandals and shorts appropriate. Sandals were my favorite footwear, though. Small comforts.