Draft 1 of Lyras odyssey/worlds apart/lost V2/IDFK

Chapter 4 (Lyras POV)

Last night seemed to stretch on for days. I don't think I fell asleep until around one am local time which would mean around five am Calgary time. I feel a little groggy but I had a really good sleep. I look at my green analogue watch. The time reads 11:32. Oh my god I can't believe I slept that long. I thought I would be expected to attend school today? I guess I don't really know anything about the school I'm going to. The house is eerily silent. I wonder if I'm the only one here.
Well I may as well get up. I cautiously slip out of bed. I feel anxious to make even a tiny sound. I walk over to the door and gently push it open. There's no way anyone could be asleep. I peek down the hallway and the warm glow of the sun casts onto the floor. The silence is serene yet eerie. Not a single sign of the house's inhabitants. I decide to go downstairs. I walk down the stairs extremely carefully. I feel like an intruder. These people agreed to allow me to stay here and I've done nothing wrong. Why do I feel like an intruder? The living room is still immaculately clean. It looks like not a single thing has changed since yesterday. I creep over to a large doorway next to the living room. It's a kitchen decorated with white countertops. The cabinets are painted a cheerful shade of pastel yellow. To my relief I see Vivian sitting at the counter with a laptop. She notices me standing in the doorway. She flashes me a bright closed mouth smile.
"Am I going to go to school?" I ask.
"No, not today. Mom figured you'd still be pretty jet lagged and she needs to get your uniform still since the school is very very slow with registrations and getting everything set up and blah blah blah. And I was waiting for you to wake up so I can show you around a little bit if you were up for it." She says with soft excitement.
Uniform? That's odd. I've never had to wear a uniform before. I'm happy about it though. I always thought uniforms made so much more sense than just regular clothes. I find judging people solely based on their appearances is superficial and fake.
"You're going to take me someplace?"
"Yeah dude. I need to show you all the cool spots around here."
I haven't had a day out in months. Everything in my life is so busy and after my moms passing, the seemingly never ending parade of people who showed up only for the funeral then left without a trace, the hospital stays and waiting for my dad to finally get better so I could go back home at least what was left of it or the endless hours spent in doctor's offices. I was so tangled in my own grief that I barely remember anything. The months that followed were a blur of sadness and denial and utter disbelief that something like this could happen. To me. News headlines talk about it all the time but it always seems like it only happens to distant characters in some alternate universe. As cruel as it sounds, the people in the tragic stories in the news almost seem inhuman. Until it happens to you that is. Then you see the gravity of these situations clearly for what it really is. Everything was so faced paced yet time seemed to stand still. The most exciting thing in my life was being able to afford a two-dollar slice of pepperoni pizza once in a while when I got lucky and found some forgotten change in the coin return of a vending machine or a parking metre. I desperately wish I could talk to someone about this. I wish I could just blindly trust the first person I see. Unfortunately very few people in the world know how I feel. That number feels like zero right now. Why am I sad right now? I'm supposed to feel happy that someone is offering to take me out and explore the city. Someone I barely know is being kind to me. Why am I sad about it? I'm so frustrated with myself but I force a happy grin.
"A day out sounds like a lot of fun. Thank you, Vivian." I say trying to hide my frustration with myself.
"How about we leave in forty-five minutes then you can get dressed and whatnot." She smiles. It seems like I succeeded. I nod in agreement and walk back upstairs to my room. The golden sunlight bounces off the yellow orchard. I pickup my little suitcase and toss it onto the bed and unzip it. I rummage around for a while until I find a pair of loose fitting cornflower coloured jeans and a mustard yellow and hunter green striped silky t-shirt. I don't have many pairs of shorts so hopefully I'm not cooking in my jeans. I put on the clothes and wander back out into the hall. My hair is probably such a mess right now. It's usually quite frizzy and unmanageable even when I style it. It's probably ten times worse than usual since I spent a large portion of last night tossing and turning.  My hair has always been like that. Impossibly fluffy no matter what I do to it. Lately I've started to care less. I just haphazardly put half of it up into two space buns. Not caring what the part I left down looks like. I walk back out into the hallway. I wonder if there's a bathroom. All of the doors are closed. I stand out in the middle of the hallway contemplating what to do. I mean a normal person would just call out to Vivian and ask where the bathroom is. But I'm far too riddled with anxiety to even consider that. I would rather jump off a cliff than do that. I decide to slowly peek into each room in hopes to find a bathroom so I can style my hair and brush my teeth. Shit! I forgot a toothbrush. I can't brush my teeth. I open the door across from my room. I cautiously peep through a part of the door that I've opened. Inside is a bathroom! Awesome. No accidentally walking into a borderline stranger's room. I open the door fully and walk in. The bathroom has mint green walls and white tiled floors. The tile feels cold on my feet. I walk over to the sink and look in the mirror. My hair is in complete disarray. I am now realising I forgot my hairbrush as well. I prepared for this trip for weeks but I am seriously just now realising that I never packed a hairbrush or a toothbrush. I glance around the bathroom hoping for some kind of miracle. No such miracle presents itself. I sigh in frustration. I frustratedly finger comb my messy ginger hair. It still looks awful but slightly less messy right? I don't know. I robotically put half of my hair into space buns. I've been wearing my hair like this everyday since I was eleven so I barely have to think while I perform this task. I hear a faint knock on the door.
"Uhh I'm in here." I frantically call out. It's too late the door creaks open. Revealing my dishevelled appearance to vivian. I frantically continue to finger comb my hair.
"Did you forget your hairbrush or something?" She says curiously.
I sigh "yep and my toothbrush."
She smiles "we've all been there. You can borrow my hairbrush and as for the toothbrush I don't have a spare one but I can get mom to stop and get you one on her way home." She says empathetically. I smile appreciatively. She steps into the bathroom and opens a drawer and pulls out a hairbrush and hands it to me. "Thank you so much Vivian."
"Yeah, anytime." She exits the bathroom.
"I'll be done soon if you need to use the bathroom."
"Okay, take your time." She says.
I brush my hair and redo the space buns, this time making them a considerable amount neater. I feel so much more out together now. I'm relieved. I walk back out into the hall and down the stairs. Vivian greets me there. Still typing away on her computer. She pauses and looks at me.
"Are you okay with leaving a little earlier than initially planned?" She asks.
"Sure I'm fine with that." I say.
She closes her laptop.
"Your chariot awaits." She says, doing a very poor impression of a transatlantic accent.
I chuckle and follow her out to the street. She presses a button on her keys that causes a small silver car to click and beep.
The cat door opens with a soft creak and I slide into the passenger seat next to her. It feels very strange to be sitting on the left side of the car when I'm not driving. I knew New Zealanders drove on the left side of the road but I had no idea the driver seat in the cars were on the right. I think I was too tired to realise that yesterday. I quietly giggle at my utter incompetence. Vivian starts the car and we drive through the unfamiliar streets. We drive for a little bit. Vivian occasionally points out significant historical places and places that are significant to her. This place feels a little more personal to me now. Instead of some foreign alien landscape. A while goes by and we are now in the densely populated heart of the city. So much is going on all at once. You can see a thousand storefronts all in a single glance. Buildings that appear as if they are kilometres high. People walk everywhere along the streets.  Vivian parks her car on the side of the road. She cuts the motor. Even with the layer laminated glass that surrounds me I can still hear how loud and busy it is outside. Vivian turns her body in my direction. She casually rests her elbow on the centre console.
"What do you want to do?" She says very casually.
I feel like a deer in headlights. I don't even know what there is to do. My stomach makes a loud gurgling sound. I grab it in embarrassment and put my arms and awkwardly stare out the window behind Vivian. I'm completely paralyzed, unsure of what to say.
"Got it. Food." She says.
"Yeah, food would be nice, thank you." I say hesitantly.
"I'm realising now, I don't know much about you." She says.
Again I feel completely caught off guard by this statement. I mean I met her last night. It makes sense we barely know each other but I guess if we'll be spending the year together it would help to know a bit about her right?
"Well what do you want to know?" I say.
"Hmmm.." Vivian thinks for a moment.
"What's your favourite colour?" She says curiously. I look at her. Her eyes glimmer with optimism.
"Ahh the deep stuff first." I chuckle.
She laughs back at me then says "but seriously what is it?"
"Yellow. What about you?"
"Orange." She smiles.
We're still both awkwardly sitting in the parked car and my stomach grumbles again.
"Right! We need to get you food!" She says determinedly.
"What kinds of food do you like?" She asks.
"Uhh.. I really like baked goods and like more american style food like uhh.. bagels and .. waffles and maybe eggs."
Ugh that came out awful. Why do I have so much trouble even speaking? I can't say a single sentence without making a fool out of myself.
"Alright bagels and waffles and maybe eggs it is. I think I know a place you'll like." She says optimistically. She opens the car door and I do too. My ears are greeted by the chaos of the bustling streets of downtown Auckland. I take a second to fully absorb the lively atmosphere. The air is warm and smells like a mix of gasoline and old cigarette ash with a hint of grass. Vivian confidently strides through the crowded street corners. It's like she knows this place like it's the back of her hand. She never stops and hesitates. She just keeps going. Eventually we made it to a small, but charming little bakery. There are fancy cakes and elaborate looking cookies displayed in the large display window. The outside is a rustic grey brick with white grout. We step in and immediately the smell of fresh warm bread and chocolate hits my nose.  It's so strong and inviting. I inhale deeply. There's a faint sound of some old pop music from the fifties playing in the background. I look through the glass at the array of pastries. It's mesmerising. I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement. I let out a faint smile. Vivian notices my excitement and we exchange glances. She smiles. A friendly woman dressed in a black flour dusted apron greets us.
"Grab whatever catches your eye." Vivian enchorages.
I scan my options. My eyes fixate on a perfectly baked golden brown croissant. I awkwardly point to the croissant behind the glass without speaking. The woman opens the glass display case and pulls out a croissant and puts it into a paper bag with the bakery's logo on it.
"And could I grab a medium plain black coffee as well?" Vivian asks. The woman walks to the counter with a fancy industrial sized coffee machine and picks up the pot. She carefully pours the coffee into a cardboard cup and puts a plastic lid on top.
The woman slides the plastic cup across the counter. Vivian politely smiles and places some foreign bills on the counter one a goldish beige the other a pale blue; a little reminiscent of a Canadian five dollar bill. The woman in the flour dusted apron opens the cash register and scrounges for some coins and passes some coins across the counter.
"Thanks" she says.
Vivian takes the small paper bag with the croissant in it and hands it to me then takes the coffee. It seems as though this short interaction is over but Vivian never gave the woman a tip. The woman didn't seem to take offence to this though. It's strange because not giving a tip back home is considered super rude. I mean I never understood tipping but maybe it's not customary here. Strange. I follow Vivian to the table. Her chestnut coloured hair glistens in the sun as she walks. Vivian sits at a small honey coloured table that's pushed against the wall. There's chairs made from a similar colour wood on either side of the table. Vivian sips her coffee and I take a bite of my croissant. The flavour is an immaculate mix of butter and soft fluffy bread. Probably the most delicious thing I've had in a while. A small smile forms across my face. Vivian looks at me and notices the look on my face.
"Enjoying that thing aren't you?" She says lightheartedly.
"Um.. Yes... Yes. It's really good" I say.
"Good." She smiles.
"Enjoying your time here so far?" She asks.
Honestly I miss my dad and I'm not sure if i enjoy this place quite yet. I mean it's been lovely knowing when I'll get my next meal and living amongst a family that hasn't been completely ripped apart by grief. I wonder if my dads okay. I really hope he is."Yes you guys are very hospitable. Thanks for that."
"Yeah of course." She smiles.
"Should we get going? I still have some other things I want to show you." She says.
"Sure." I say.
We get up and I throw the paper wrapper in the garbage and we walk out of the small cafe bakery place thingy. Vivian continues to take the occasional sip from her coffee. She walks confidently down the ash coloured sidewalk. I follow her. The streets are incredibly clean. I mean Calgary is quite clean but never this clean. There's hardly any trash scattered about the street. We walk for a bit in a sort of comfortable silence. The streets are a bit loud but it's reminiscent of my old commute to school. Except most of the side conversations have an accent. If I'm being completely honest I really like the accent even if it is difficult to understand at times. The warm sun embraces me and casts a golden glow between the buildings. I feel a little sweaty. I can't tell if it's from the heat or anxiety. Vivian seems to have a positive and friendly ambience to her. I mean it's a good thing for now but I have no way of knowing for sure if this is a facade. Maybe this is just how she acts towards new people. I'm not ready to fully trust her yet but I guess it's better than being rude and negative towards me. This place is nice so far because as long as I don't speak then I can easily be mistaken for a local. I remember an Egypt trip we took with my mom as a family. I think we went to Cairo. Anyways the locals were harassing us constantly for money. I mean some of them were quite charming but everyone knew we were tourists because we were the colour of sand and me and my mom had super ginger hair. I mean after a few days I more resembled the colour of a freshly cooked lobster. Anyways according to them tourists have money so they kept trying to sell us stuff. It was cool but my dad wanted to spend the money on fancy food instead of trinkets. He's always been a big foodie. I remember how much he loved hawawshi. I think he ate like four of them in one day. They had a street vendor who made it right across from the hotel we were staying at. I liked the aish baladi more since I couldn't eat the hawawshi because it wasn't vegetarian. I miss that trip. It was probably one of my favourite trips. I think it was the only trip out of the country we ever went on. We had saved up for years. We collected coins in a big 20 litre water container. The good old days. Such a shame all of the evidence of that trip is forever lost. Now it's nothing more than charred plastic and ash.
We spend the rest of the day exploring the city. It's strange to think this is all Vivian's ever known but to me it seems like another planet. I bet back home would feel strange and foreign to her. Vivian makes an effort to show me some of the more touristy areas as well as some hidden gems that aren't on all of those tacky travel websites. Something only someone who's lived there for decades would take the time to uncover. There's some interesting shops; some are a little strange but interesting nonetheless. Each moment seems to stretch on for a long time but not in a bad way. It almost feels like a fever dream. A surreal fantasy. Every that hour passes I feel my feeling of distrust fade a little. The complex cityscape becomes a backdrop for new pleasant memories. As the day winds down and pink and orange hues fill the sky. Vivian suggests we head home. I oblige and home wraps me in a familiar embrace.
Reflecting on the day I feel a shift in myself. Despite the challenges and pain of my past I got a glimpse of a different reality. Completely new and unfamiliar but positive in a way. A reality filled with genuine connections and new opportunities.