Tutoring the Bad Boy [REWRITTEN]

24. valentines day and songs

FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH was the day I was most looking forward to, yet somehow still incredibly anxious about it. The day of love. Love. It seemed so foreign to me ever since the day I let Oliver go. Today was that day, and I was anxiously awake at five in the morning figuring out what to wear and planning out what could possibly happen. I felt like such a fool for even beginning to freak out about such a holiday, but I couldn't help myself. Just thinking about the dark-haired boy sent my heart racing.

     It was everything, not just how gorgeous he was. The way he would always be by my side no matter what and call me darling. I never thought that I would ever become so close to someone after what happened before, but I'm glad that I let somebody in. I'm still so terrified that one day, Archer will just slip from my grasp.

     I stared at my bedroom ceiling and abruptly heard somebody in the kitchen. When I went over to inspect, I saw my mom pouring a glass of milk for herself. I wanted to talk to her, but I wasn't sure how. After her apology, I kept avoiding her, only replying in short phrases whenever she tried to talk to me. I could tell it hurt her and guilt always swept over me, but I didn't even know how to talk to her. Her face seemed lighter, happier. Even with her bedhead, I could tell that she was looking cleaner, more organized. More. . . more motherly.

     "Irene, shouldn't you be asleep? It's five," she told me with concern laced in her voice. I opened my mouth to respond— with anything, really— but nothing came out. "Would you like to sit down and talk for a bit. I mean, unless you're going back to sleep."

     "No, no, I'm not that tired," I responded and she nodded to the couch in the living room. She brought me a glass of milk before sitting down. "Thank you."

    "I've always tried to avoid thinking about Michael, your father," she started, "but it's not fair to me, him, or you to push those memories away. Not when they are so dear to all of us, even if you yourself have a hard time remembering since you were so little."

     This was it. My heart raced faster with anxiety as she went on to describe what kind of person my dad was. I only remember a few memories of us together; he was a kind person, I knew that. I can only vaguely remember what he looked like though, and there weren't any pictures of him hanging on the walls.

     "Your dad and I first met in college. Oh, we were so lovestruck then. He always had a smile on his face whenever he was with me, even when I knew that something was wrong. See, your father didn't really have a good home life. He was left in the hands of his aunt when his parents both passed away due to cancer. But his smile was always gentle, and he would almost never get mad. That's just the way he was," she smiled softly, closing her eyes as if she were reliving the memory.

     "When we got out of college, everything happened so fast. You were born and your dad got busier in order to provide for the family. I never once forgot about him during those times when he would be away for weeks. Sometimes, I'd be worried he'd fine someone else. But every time he'd come home, and that same smile would still be there. I knew my worries were so meaningless then. That I was fretting over nothing. And oh, he was so perfect. He had brown hair and dark brown eyes, and let me tell you that he aged well. If he were here today—" she trailed off for moment, seemingly putting on a sad smile, "if he were here today, I know he'd look more than perfect."

I opened my mouth to say something then closed it. It took me a few moments before O could form a question. "What happened to him? I mean, I knew he was in the hospital and died. But I never knew the reason."

"He was hit by a truck, walking across the street. He was answering a text of mine and the driver was going above fifty miles an hour," she murmured the last part. "And sometimes I think that maybe if I didn't text him at that time— maybe we'd all be happy and he'd still be here."