treehouse || h.s

1

Two days later I am walking through the forest on my daily morning walk. I've thought a lot about him since we met and I'm constantly wondering if we will ever meet again. The birds are singing and the leaves whistling and that's when I hear his voice again.
"Hi,"
He is standing behind me, looking the exact same as he did the other day; hands in his denim shorts, hair pushed back and a lumberjack shirt covering his torso. Had he followed me here? He answers as if he could read my mind.
"Don't worry, I didn't follow you. I came from that direction," he says as he points down towards the direction of the beach.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
My thoughts are jumbled when he asks and I barely get to say anything before he's already in front of me, making his way further into the forest. I just follow him in silence. I don't know why, but I have the urge to ask him something, anything really.
"Where do you live?"
He halts, waiting for me to get closer before answering.
"Not far from here actually. I live on the other side of the forest,"
"When did you move there?"
Our conversation flows from here and I learn a lot about this boy in a few hours. He moved here two weeks ago when his mother died. He too, found the hectic life of New York too stressful to deal with the loss and therefore he moved here. He also has a budgerigar named Oliver that flies around in his livingroom. I find myself laughing sometimes; he has this sweet humor and he's incredibly good at mimicking different persons he has come across.
Too soon we have already been on every path in the forest and even walked some of them twice. He smiles, his eyes glistening from the small rays of sunlight the trees couldn't catch.
"Well Valeria, it was a pleasure talking to you,"
"It was nice talking to you too, Harry,"
I smile too and we watch each other in silence for a few seconds before we both turn to go back to our small treehouses.
"Hey, Valeria?"
"Yes?"
"If you want to you're always welcome to come say hi to Oliver,"
I grin and he smiles back waving at me.

Hi dad,
I had a conversation today. Like a real one.
Love,
Valeria

I close the book and roll around to lay on my back. As I look to the ceiling Harry's invitation runs through my mind for the hundredth time. "If you want to you're always welcome to come say hi to Oliver." That's an invitation right?

Why am I even considering this? The isolation and seclusion was something that I've chosen; something that I've brought upon myself. Why do I suddenly feel so powerless in the presence of this stranger? Because he was. A stranger that is, and I have no idea how he is suddenly making me doubt the choice I made so long ago. However, he does.

So the next morning I quickly eat my breakfast, write another small note for my father and slip on my shoes. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going yet, but I know I have to find out where he lives. The leaves crunch under my feet as the wind whips around me. It's cold, considering we're in the middle of the summer. It's the 24th of June to be exact.

I quietly make my way through the forest and down to the beach. The waves are larger than yesterday, sounding like a hundred drums as they wash onto the shore. I try determining where he had been standing the other day; maybe I could walk the same way back as he did and find his place? I decide on that and walk towards the forest again. His house is nestled between the trees, and if I didn't know that it was around here it was, I wouldn't have seen it. I consider for a moment to just turn around and pretend I was never here, but before my mind catches up I'm knocking on the wooden door. I hear footsteps approaching and I almost hide just before he opens the door. He smiles widely at me. I say nothing, only stare at him. He is wearing black jeans and another lumberjack shirt is covering his torso. His hair is tousled as if he's just gotten out of bed. He takes a step to the side, inviting me inside.
"Hi, Valeria,"
"Hi, Harry,"
His treehouse is very similar to mine; small photos littering the walls and a small ladder leading to a bunk.
I jump when something comes flying towards me, but I quickly realize that it's just Oliver, the budgerigar.
He settles on my shoulder, gently pushing his feathery body against my cheek.
"He's very affective," Harry chuckles from behind me as he pats the small bird.
"I can tell," I giggle and gently rub my finger against the top of his head.
"Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea?"
I nod and muster to put on a smile despite my insane shyness. The kitchen and livingroom is one big room combined. He brews two mugs of tea and hands me one. Oliver is still sitting on my shoulder, his feathers tickling my neck. I shoo him off and he flies to sit on Harry's shoulder instead.
"He seems like good company," I say and smile at the small creature.
"He certainly is. I've had him since I was eleven actually,"
"He must be old then," I comment and Harry laughs.
"Are you saying that I look old?"
"That's not what I meant, I was just.."
"I was just kidding,"
This is what I hate about social situations; misunderstanding each other. Or more precisely; me misunderstanding the other. Harry seemed to be very social. He was humorous and good at keeping a conversation going. He pulls out a chair and signals for me to sit.
"Do you have a pet?"
I look at him and shake my head: "I wish I had though."
"He's nine. My mother had a budgerigar once that died the day it turned eighteen," he looks at Oliver who is now sitting on the ladder, his little beak tightly nestled between his wings.
"He's got a few years left then," I say as we both stare at the bird.
"Hopefully,"
"Do you like living here?" I ask surprising myself with my sudden urge to converse.
"Yes I do, it's very peaceful here,"
He's pushing his mug back and forth between his hands.
"Do you like living here?"
I nod: "Yes," I simply answer.
"Do you want to take a walk?"
I nod again as I drink the rest of my tea.

As we're walking along the shore I look at him as he is looking to the ocean, and I suddenly realize that I've missed some company around here. Yes, I did enjoy being alone here, but it's been a year now where I've had no contact with other human beings expect from the cashier at the small grocery-shop.
When I left New York I told my mother not to contact me and if I wanted to talk to her I would call her. I called her once, two weeks after I left, but that's it.
"Why did you move here?"
I'm ripped from my thoughts when Harry breaks the silence.
"I.. My father died when two weeks before I turned eighteen,"
Few people knew this; it wasn't something I really liked talking about. When he died I was broken and for the first few months that I lived here, guilt was eating me from the inside out when I thought about my mother who I had left.
"I'm sorry,"
"It's fine, I'm fine," I say honestly. I had mended the time I had been here, but I'll admit; there was still an empty spot in my heart that I'm sure would stay that way.
"You were close?"
I slowly nod, clearly remembering the endless memories my father and I had. Harry stops and sits down in the wet sand getting his clothes soaked from the waves washing onto the shore.
"What are you doing?" I ask curiously as I watch him, still standing. He looks at me like I've grown another head.
"I'm sitting,"
I laugh.
"I see that,"
"Come sit with me," he says as he pats the sand next to him, making water splash onto my jeans.
"Hey!"
"Now you might as well sit,"
I laugh again but obliges and sit down beside him. We stare at the water for a few minutes, inhaling the salty scent as the waves repeatedly hit our feet.
"I think you're a nice person Valeria,"
I look at him.

"You're a nice person too,"

Author's note: Thank you for reading. This story won't be very long, so enjoy it while it lasts! Please don't forget to comment what you think! xx