YELLOW WINTER

!

5
It's odd to think I believe love can heal me. Never thought that, never hoped that, never believed that love might be the answer.
It's cliche, it's a weak argument I have with myself.
I mean, I make fun of all the other kids for investing so much in relationships doomed to fail, puppy love and isn't real but all that changed because of her. Surprisingly the person who taught me what hate feels like, what pain tastes like taught my careless mind just what love can do.

He arrived on our porch as a new house mate. He was to take the old dusty room we never used, extra income and I thought perhaps someone new would make her not yell out insults anymore. I'm sure the neighbors could hear her yelling out just how much I've ruined her life. It's not like I care, no. The way the look at me make me want to die. Her words make me visible...they see me, and I hate that.
The worried pitiful expression filled with equal doses of curiosity unleashes my anxiety and I can't help that. My fingers suffer the most with 10s of cigarettes burning it's tips in an effort to not dig into my skin as anxiety eats deeper.
His presence did almost heal her.
From the way he said his name I knew he had a way with hearts and sadly he set his heart on Marie.
A struggling actor being nice to a sick woman...I'll get that he did it out of pity but soon his rent stopped coming in, the bills went up but somehow Marie smiled!
She smiled? It was foreign, she looked almost happy.
She didn't call out to me with "hey you" "bastard" "retard" "ungrateful brat"
She called me my name.
The only place I ever heard my name was during attendance in school.
"Yazmin".... My heart almost stopped racing. It sounded different coming from her.. it reminded me of some many things.
Yazmin...Yazmin...or Jazmin?
Well Yazmin. That's what's on my birth certificate.
Carol used to say she actually misheard Maria and wrote down Yazmin instead of Jazmin.
But I know better than to believe that.
Marie would never have thought of a name for me talk more of Jazmin.
I wasn't a gift from God..my existence was a curse upon her.
Carol said it was from a show they used to watch, The boondocks.
I know Carol named me after Jazmin Dobios from the show but knew Marie would hate it so replaced J with a Y. Sounds like the most likely explanation.
I'm not like Jazmin from the show though.
I'm not innocent, smart maybe? But not navie, innocent or honest.
It's funny to put honest and me in the same sentence.
I don't lie because I don't talk. Perhaps I looked innocent and pitiful on oxygen for the first two months of my life?
I should have died then. But then I and my persistence hung on. Even when oxygen was taken off with the thought that I'll not make it my lungs opened up drawing air for the first time on it's own.

Funny right? Funny that I fought to survive?
Why'd they give me up then?
Well no one wants a child who's survival chance was pretty slim.
No one's ever wanted me...but somehow I've survived on oxygen,hate and instincts.

Soon Marie became paranoid. She knew why he came back late.
The hugs stopped. His room was always locked and then he brought someone else home.
Oh Maria... how she begged him to leave...both kneels on the floor.
My heart felt heavy watching him pack his stuff at 1am. He didn't even look regretful.
She'd caught them... leaning on her cane as she opened his door.

I could hear her sob the whole night. I'd imagined the questions running through her mind.
I know she knew every single answer.
She knows more than anyone else that "men don't love poor things" she was just a pity case. And even though he leeched off her, what was she expecting?
That he loved her?
That was funny to me too.

But that night I knew. I knew just what love could do. Unrequited love...I would have that but with the constant consciousness that I didn't deserve love and so shouldn't hope.
That's worked...expect nothing, get nothing.

Today went by like the wind untill I was called upon?
Miss Carter?
My office please.

That was five minutes ago in class. Now I found myself in a small office with so little lightening I could barely make out the names of the hundreds of books on shelves behind this wooden table and chair.

*Sorry for keeping you waiting.

*No answer.
I never answered. She knows..every teacher knows.
Why was I here avoiding eye contact with this woman who even in her 50s looks like those movie depiction of professors.
Elegant, well spoken and strict.
I didn't like her.
I found her classes boring and her prejudice against banned books cowardly.

Your paper, I haven't gotten it.

*Questioning look"

Oh I mean, I have but it doesn't sound like you?

What does this lady mean it doesn't sound like me? She'd always give me a B+ or C+ for the ones that sounded like me. So I did what I'm most good at, pretending.
Pretending to be someone else. Someone who believes in all the things she says, all the authors she believes are nothing short of genius, the works she quotes...I gave her everything she likes to read so why the summon?

You have an A+ in this paper but I didn't feel you.
It was an easy A, an easy and enjoyable read.
I love the way you put ur words, ur unwavering beliefs and opinions about authors I idolize.
Makes me look at things from a different perspective. Gives each book a new perspective to my preconceived ideas.
Remember Romeo and Juliet? I like how you discredited their feelings for nothing more than rash puppy love and how Shakespeare was mocking love in a way.
Every other paper talked about having a love like that, of dreaming a love like that but you rather they never met. That was really hard to swallow but it made me reread the story with a different light.
And The gods are not to be blamed?
I liked your paper on it. The gods are to be blamed, everyone was at fault and the guard for not executing the baby but then the gods had to maintain their pride and allow him to survive.
What's the prophecy without it coming to fruition?
Wouldn't that make the gods liars?
In essence they had to allow humans play their games.
"The gods are always right" you had said should be the actual massage right?

*Nod"

That's what I mean miss Carter. You bring out parts of stories, although sadistic but raw that I don't see.

Keep your voice miss Carter.
If you would, write two papers for each assessment. One in your voice and the other curriculum standard.
You may return to class.

With that I was walking out with all sorts of thoughts. Write in my voice?
My voice...
No one should hear or have to read anything in my voice.
I didn't even like writing...papers were just a way to vent how I truly feel about things.
All fancy words for "I think humans are stupid"
That is the underlying tone for everything I write. Nothing special.

I catch his eyes. One second and their gone.. he disappears into the classroom.
I was the only one in the hallway so it wasn't weird that he looked at me...but still? My heart feels like it wants to explode.
Today he's reading a new book. "The boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse"
See, cheesy?!