comfort ➳ hayes grier

sei

it's currently saturday morning, and i'm going to tell you all about the (un)eventful weekends here at st. therese's.

trust me, it's a blast-

if you're catholic.

which, i am not, so i just go around and observe our giant, vacant campus.

usually there's weekend prayer groups, mass services for the youngins, and maybe a religious festival or something.

during my first week at st. therese's, my parents were extremely involved so they made me attend my first and last mass service, after that they let me off into the world.

they were probably hoping that i would become a little church girl.

i just hope they're really proud.

-

hayes and i escaped to the huge garden in the middle of campus, it was extremely secluded for being in the middle of campus and all.

i always sit out here with my sketchbook and camera in hopes of gaining some creative inspiration, and i do for the most part. usually i just paint flowers and take pictures of the scenery, but today my only inspiration-creative inspiration- is hayes.

no matter where i put down my pencil, i'm forced to outline his face, whenever i pull out my camera, i'm tempted to capture a picture of his smiling face.

he scares me out of my thoughts, "have you ever thought about what's next after this? this is the home you've known all along."

i smile, "yeah, well, i'll probably end up with a janitorial job here, i can never escape."

he stares at me with a straight face, "don't you have aspirations? haven't you thought about anything other than this place?"

"i really don't expect you to understand. this, this horrendous place is my safe haven. this is all i know, i don't know what out there in the real world," i yell, "i'm trapped up here, i have been for the past nine years! nine! i don't know what comes after this because i have nobody."

i wipe away a tear that managed to escape with my thumb, "nobody but myself, anyways."

"you have all these people around you but you always manage to feel alone, why is that! you're completely oblivious to those who care about you! for example, claudette. how she puts up with you i'm not sure, but you have to give her props," he huffed.

all inspiration is gone, i found myself ripping the page of my notebook which held a drawing of his face, his beautifully flawed face, and threw it at him.

"now you know why i distract myself," i scream, "i need to get away from myself!"

i run back to my dorm, legs burning, but i don't stop. not for anyone, not for anything.

-

after about six hours, i got fed up of being cooped up in my room, so i decide to head to the dean's office.

this school doesn't allow us to leave campus, but we can request a weekend to spend with our family.

yep, there's my problem. i haven't contacted my family in quite some time.

i let the receptionist know that i would like to speak to the dean, and she kindly asked me to take a seat as he finished up a meeting.

i plan on asking him about my parents, and why they hadn't contacted me in so long.

after about twenty minutes, the dean's door opened and he asked me to enter.

i took a seat on the stiff, hunter green chair and waited for him to join me.

he soon takes a seat in front of me, and flashed me a smile, "so what do you need today, claire?"

"it's about my parents," i trailed off, "where are they? why have they stopped contacting me?"

he read through a file, mine i guessed, and adjusted his glasses.

"your parents are very good at paying on time, but there is very little contact. obviously, parent-to-child contact but also parent-to-faculty contact," he kept reading through, "i have their number here, if you'd like me to call them?"

i twiddled my thumbs on my lap, "if it's not too much to ask? it's bothering my conscience a lot, actually."

"alright," he punched some numbers on the office phone, "speaker?"

"please," i whimpered.

it took about three rings until someone finally picked up, and i bit nervously at my fingernails.

"hello, alessio lombardi speaking, how may i help you?" a deep voice with an accent spoke.

"hello, mr. lombardi! this is william pearson, the dean at st. therese's, do you have a moment to speak?"

the line hesitated for a while, "yes, of course. is there a problem? claire's raising hell over there?" he chuckled.

"something like that," mr. pearson hesitated, "claire came in today to ask me about you and her mother, said that you two cutting off communication is hurting her conscience."

my father let out a deep sigh, "i guess it's been a while hasn't it? is she there?"

"yes, mr. lombardi. would you like to speak to her?" he asked.

"that would be fine, yes." alessio replied.

"hi dad," i mumbled weakly.

*"il mio incantevole fiore," he cried, "i am so sorry. for everything."

"it's okay.. i think. i've been taking italian for a few years to remind me of you guys, it hurts less everyday, but sometimes it hits me hard," i said, quickly wiping away a tear.

"we haven't forgotten about you, *mi bambina," he whispered, "it's not easy keeping you locked away, you have to understand that. your mother and i don't think we can be there for you- emotionally, anyways. none of this is your fault."

"that's fine," i trembled, "i just want to see you guys."

"i promise you will, we will take the first flight to you, *mio cielo. i promise." he said.

"okay, *papà, ti amo. i'll see you soon." i said, feeling a hundred times better.

mr. pearson hung up the phone for me and shot me a sympathetic look, "how was that?"

"refreshing," i laughed while wiping away a stray tear, "i thought he would be different."

"stern?" he questioned, "because he is. you're his daughter, after all."

"um, mr. pearson, if they do come out this week, do you think i could take the week off of school?" i asked sweetly.

"how are your grades doing, ms. lombardi?" he smirked.

*il mio incantevole fiore - my lovely flower
*mi bambina - my child or my girl
*mio cielo - my heaven or my sky
*papá - father or daddy