I have been laughing and grinning at Qaileen for as long as over an hour. It's damn near 9pm, I should be ready to head home, but Qaileen has beyond made me comfortable enough to even contemplate heading home late... or maybe only head home tomorrow, in the early hours of the morning before the birds announce their wake with chirps in the new air accompanying the beginning of a new day.
"But, I am not an only child. I do have siblings. I'm also not the oldest, I have an older brother though he stays down south. Preference, apparently." She murmurs with a shrug. Her small plastic spoon penetrates the flavored cream in her cup. "Do I miss him? Yes, of course I do. But that can't change the fact that he won't come back until he is ready to."
"Ready to?" I pout. "Does he not want to?"
Qaileen shakes her head, sighing softly as she leans back against her seat.
We're currently parked in the parking lot of an ice cream parlor. She argued they had the best variations of flavours, and the cream itself, if I can attest to it myself, is soft and delicate, melts easily on my tongue in a lovely way. I wouldn't consider myself a fan of sweet treats such as this, though I also could not decline the polite offer of it being paid for.
Qaileen is a sweet somebody. Easy on the eyes; I saw this when we entered the parlor. The attention of many, predominantly males, shifted towards her just to steal even a glance of her appearance. She walks with confidence, hardly fearful of any negative perseption about her likeness from anyone, almost like she owns the world. Even the way she talks is delicate. Easy words to the ears, though her tone carries just that much more authority in a way that doesn't make one quiver.
Unless of course, if they quiver in glee.
"He doesn't like home, if that's an easy way to put it." She tucks away long brown strands behind her round ears. "Also... my parents aren't really fond of him. He's, well... some might consider him an abomination, him and his desires."
I'll take it as he has an attraction for what they'd not consider, natural. I hum, scooping a small amount of the cream and then slip it between my lips. I watch as she chuckles, shaking her head before glancing out her windscreen, perhaps deep in thought; memories of something only her witnesses have seen must be playing within the confinement of her mind. She licks her lips, nibbles at the side and then shrugs with little to no hope.
"Well, maybe not exactly relatable, but I once had a sister." I mutter. "Older."
"Yeah?" She turns her honey eyes to observe me. "What happened to her?"
"She died. Car accident. Along with my mother. It's just me and my dad now, so... maybe be cheerful that your brother is out there. Safe. Loved. When the time is right, and when he is ready, he will turn up." I smile, reaching over to place my hand gently on the warm skin on her forearm.
There, a spark within her orbs comes to life. As an outward expression, I believe, she smiles and nods, patting the back of my hand and then giggling. "I am sure your sister is proud of you. I don't know you all too well but I am beyond sure you have reached a lot and beyond what she could have imagined."
Maybe so. I can't say nor can I assume. Lerato was in her own world and we sometimes played the role of supporting characters, if not unimportant ones. I never minded though; my love for her was beyond the judgment I could pass over, so whether from afar or upclose and in the space of her bedroom, I admired her. I loved how she carried herself. I couldn't exactly do half of what she did, speak as well as she did, nor could I draw in as much attention as she did.
Maybe I was never meant to. Maybe I am not meant to. I am my own person; the last few months have taught me that, and that's okay. Being separate from my father taught me that as well, and showed me how much, to an extent, he had some desires of me following in my dead sister's footsteps, and I failed. Boy, I failed. I failed to be what she achieved and dreamt to be, but did I fail myself?
