(Meteor Shower by Cavetown)
Two days. I stayed in my room for two days. In reality, I was just sleeping and closing my eyes, dreaming of alternate realities this time. Realities of birds. Realities of tranquility. I rubbed my eyes. Oh, it’s the end of the weekend already? I continue rubbing the sleepiness out of my eyes. I could technically lay in bed, but doesn’t Father have his affairs today? I get up, stretching my limbs slowly. They still ache when I fell asleep on the bench Friday. I stand up, looking at my very cluttered pile of notebooks and poems. A few have scattered to the floor during my slumber, but they’re still there. I put on my uniform, with my cardigan and headed out of my room.
I pass by my Mother. Did she get no sleep? She looks dead, although I shouldn’t sympathize with a wall with the shape of a person. I peek my head around the corner of the hallway to see Father fuming about some political nonsense. I wonder why Mother hasn’t left him, it’s not like she was truly dependent on him anyways. Does she still believe in love? How naïve of her, and look where it got her. Into a deep, endless hole of misery, regret, sorrow and heartache. Such a hopeless romantic, such a heart-wrenching sight to the ones who aren’t blind.
I sigh sorrowfully, and grab a piece of fruit on the counter. I receive a glare from my Father. Just, go back to watching that trashy show, I don’t wanna see your punchable, puny face. I mutter incoherent mumbles of profanities and curses whilst walking past him, who still is mentally judging me. He reminds me of a Pomeranian. All bark, no bite. I sigh once more, reminiscing the past times. It was okay, he was rude. Although, I was known for being Cecilia Oakwood ( a/n : IT WAS A RANDOM NAME GENERATOR OKAY ). I was known for being human, not an object, not a mistake of the namesake of our family. It was pointless attempting to maintain a reputation anyways, I’m very much aware of the future our family tree shall hold. Poverty, famine, crime and casualty. Our family’s reputation and generation will perish, just like the existence of my brother. I can see it even in the smoke of deceit.
I walk out the door, fruit in hard, bag in locker. I pass by a small stray kitten on the way. I crouch down slowly to caress it. It seemed neglected, it seemed forgotten. I deeply relate to the creature, but I wish to not develop emotional attachments as it is very prominent that they will die soon. I inhale and exhale. It feels like frostbite. The feeling that freezes you, with so many unwanted emotions that you are required to consume and process despite the pain that goes along with it. The leaves make crunching noises as I walk on them. Moments like this, remind me of when I was a kid. When everything seemed perfect and fine for me. When times were much simpler. When everyone at least could fake a smile and put a single facade on reality. A facade that showed me that life was smiling for.
I continue walking down to school, and I hear a faint voice, “Miss Cecilia! Good morning!” Ah, there he was. His name was Ciaran, he was a young clingy orphan who found interest in me. I hum in acknowledgment of his existence. He never left me alone when he got the chance to talk to me. I’ve attempted countless times to push him away, but he always persists so I let his presence linger. I huff loudly, knowing I’m going to be late for classes again. I turn to Ciaran. “Do you need something?” I ask with a tone of annoyance. He opens up his hands which were previously closed. It revealed a shiny, white pebble. Merely useless, but the kid seemed to think it had value. I sigh and look down at him, glancing at his fawn eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?” I ask, gesturing to the pebble. Ciaran smiles brightly at me, and says proudly, “for you! It looked pretty and reminded me of you!”, placing the object in my hand. I mutter under my breath a small ‘thanks’, rolling my eyes. I placed it in my cardigan’s pocket, yet to be found again. I sigh loudly. I throw my hands up in the air in a light-hearted way. “Sorry kid, don’t got anything you want.” I say, but Ciaran grinned even brighter.
Ciaran’s smile was so bright, you could see it from a mile away. He swayed his hands back and forth only responding with an "Yes you do.". I raised my eyebrow, crouching down to Ciaran's height to look him in the eye. I respond with "what would you want then?", maintaining eye contact. Dull eyes, compared to his young, innocent eyes. I question how he cannot be pessimistic, and his entire optimistic attitude. The attitude that should've perished when he watched the fire roar and swallow his entire family whole. When he watched the people he loved die.
My thoughts continue to consume me, before I receive a large hug from Ciaran. I scoff and push him away, but gently as I don't wish to hear his impending wailing. I sigh in annoyance. "Is this what you wanted? A hug?" I ask, clearing my throat in hopes Ciaran didn't hear my voice crack. He nods slowly, giving a face and aura of pure innocence, even I could crack from the overwhelming emotions radiating from him. I roll my eyes slowly, "you got your hug…scram.." I whisper in a soft tone even I'm surprised. At this point, I don't know what to do with this kid. Leave him in a dumpster? No, he could definitely climb out and cling onto me with such fervor, the stench would come along with him.
Ciaran glances at me once more. He yawns in tiredness as he puts up his hand. I was unsure on how to react, as it was so mundane and unexpected. Ciaran remarks "one more thing! Make a promise!". I scoff loudly, and tilt my head slightly. "What would I have to promise you?" I ask. I don't like promises, but knowing the kid, he'll probably ask for a chocolate bar again. The child sighs, his eyes now giving an unrecognizable emotion. So vague, so unfamiliar. "Promise me…when I meet the angels up above…for me to lay next to my parents." He quietly asks, fidgeting with his dirty shirt. That stunned me. This dumb kid, seven years old, entrusting me with such a tedious task? Did he have a death wish?
Then it clicks inside of my head. I understood the solemness, the trust in his eyes. So he doesn't have fake intentions, but why did he choose me? I hesitantly say "I promise, but you have to promise me something too.". He pulls up his pinkie. "Pinkie promise?" Ciaran asks, and I clasp my pinkie with his, hands shaking. A child. Understands me, befriended me.
"Promise me…you will find someone that isn't me." I whisper quietly, and he nods hesitantly. I want to make his life better, even if it means I'll sacrifice mine. I want redemption to finally come. A chance where I don't become like my Father. "Swear on your life?" I ask, and he nods once more.
I think, for once I felt an new emotion. Hope.
