Two strangers. One room. And it doesn't end there.
Rhys Hayes has been diagnosed with dyscalculia. He finds it easier to avoid talking than have to reveal his secret: why he can't tell the time, or why he doesn't remember directions, or why he just...
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Rhys:
"God, Dylan, is that you?" I smile, looking at my nephew.
He whispers something I can't hear, the face painter whispers something too, and then he walks towards me, looking exactly like Voldemort, if he was the size of a 9 year old.
"You look cool." I say, grinning. As he got closer, I could feel a bit of annoyance within me, he really looked like a villain, so much that it frustrated me to stare at him any longer. I hated Voldemort when I was a kid.
"Thanks."
I look at the woman who'd done such a job, it was too good. As I took in her brown hair and thin figure, on a pale skin tone, it bothered me too much. She reminded me of someone I'd known.
I stepped closer, and her face came into view as she glanced at me, her eyes meeting mine. They were brown and her cheeks were red. She looked embarrassed of something.
She looked like hope.
"Vera?" My lips formed her name. A whisper.
"Vera?" I said, louder this time, approaching her.
She stood up from the chair, and as I drew nearer I knew it was her.
"Rhys?" She said, and I nodded.
She nodded back, gulping.
"I- uh.." I start, scratching the tip of my ear, not sure of what to say, where to begin.
I become conscious of the crowd behind me, singing to the birthday boy, Vera's eyes slide away from mine and I remain facing her. When she begins to clap, I feel frozen. And then I reach for her hand, taking a chance, she lets me hold it.
"Happy Birthday," I say.
But what I really wanted to say was something much complicated. I wanted to ask her if we could go back, start again, or pretend we hadn't ever met, and meet now, and begin now. I wanted something better than what we'd left each other with. I wanted more.
She smiled at me, her teeth showing.
I smiled back and I felt younger.
"How will I ever forget about you now?" She said with a laugh.
"Don't," I tell her, dropping her hand, wondering if she thought of me often.
"Well, I'll try to anyway," She said, looking at me.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing.. just that I'll try to forget you," Her voice broke at the end and it hurt me to see how different she looked, not in a bad way of course, she was always lovely. But she looked tired standing in front of me, the dark circles under her eyes as visible as ever.
