Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Moodlist Thinking Of You - ABRA Build Me Up - Cleo Sol Love To Lose - Sinéad Harnett When I'm In Your Arms - Cleo Sol II HANDS II HEAVEN - Beyoncé la luna enamorada - Kali Uchis Only Love Can Wait - Cleo Sol
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A lot had happened.
And it wasn't until I saw her full lips part to form a smile that had yet to fail raising my pulse, that I was really able to take stock.
It wasn't that bearing witness to it was a rarity. In fact, what struck me the most was that there wasn't a feeling of surprise lining the affection warming my chest.
When I first arrived, I could count myself as lucky to elicit anything resembling joy in her. Her affect was extremely shallow, meaning she didn't particularly sway one way or another in response to anything. A joke that she genuinely funny barely lit her eyes, and things that may have upset her under usual circumstances didn't even make a dent.
There'd be moments that her personality peaked out from under the grief that was smothering it.
Not quite a fraternity or a sorority, we had formed something in the middle, intent on cocooning the Cruz kids. Nesto was more receptive, seeing that he was coping much better with the circumstances. However, understandably, my little treasure struggled with moving on quite substantially.
But we did get through, once in a while.
We played endless games, both of the video and board variety. We sang and we danced; unabashedly. The penalties were harsh, ranging from undergoing a labour pain simulator, drinking unspeakable concoctions, doing hot Pilates and waiting on the winner hand and foot.
I was never letting anyone out those godforsaken electrodes on my abs again.
During the height of hilarity, whether that be watching my brothers and I reenact a childhood dance routine, or an argument about the rules of UNO breaking out, she'd be with us in all her glory. Sharp, observant, and wickedly funny, she would miss a moment to stir the pot or add an anecdote that was sure to keep the laughter going.
But all it would take was the wind changing, and the Vanessa we knew would retreat. In her place, we'd find a version of her that quieter, and less awake.
At first, whole days would elapse until we would see her again. Though, as time went on, the real Vanessa would peek through more frequently. Her vibrance and lust for life were irrepressible, so as she worked through all of those big feelings, she eventually learned how to overcome the doubt.
It was a progression that felt as natural as time itself. So natural in fact, that she seldomly took notice.
Perhaps that was because the intensity of the troughs had yet to lessen. Regardless, I couldn't help but be grateful that every time she fell, it took her less time to either get back up, or to ask for the help we were so eager to give her.
