FEEL

8. Flichtish

Flichtish ~ nervously aware how much of your self-image is based on untested assumptions about yourself.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

Perhaps it was some devastating coincidence or merely my fowl luck, that by all the odds, the one person Mr Pierce told me to stay away from is standing outside the door of my apartment right now.

The thought of him prevails in my head as I pass Andre without a greeting. Unlock the door to my house just as he starts to speak. “Hey, listen, about last night...” he starts, but I'm already inside and before the sentence could find other words, I slam the door shut and lock it.

Then, I wait.

My back is pressed against the door and it's like I can still feel his presence behind it. He's silent. Better than pestering me, but also building a burdening suspense. Just as I'm about to leave, he knocks on it hard, startling me almost off my shoes.

Andre hollers from behind the door, “What the fuck, Aquila?”

“Go away, Andre,” I call back.

“No. I'm not leaving until we talk. You owe me that much.”

I growl, “I don't owe you anything!” Maybe the barrier of the wooden door between us has given me some sort of bravery. Or his actions last night took more of a toll on me than I figured.

He bangs on the door again. “Just let me explain.”

“I don't want your explanation. Please just leave.”

“That isn't fucking fair, Aquila, and you know it!” His palm slaps the door. “Open the door!”

“Go home!”

“If you don't open this damn door, I'm going to break it.”

It was times like this that I desperately wish that I had a manual. An entire two hundred page handbook on how Aquila's brain works, containing chapters focusing on her emotions, hormonal contribution and complex thought processes. I wish that there were instructions on what to do when confronted with a series of emotions, and why.

Because it didn't make sense, even to me, that I came forward, turned the lock and swung the door open. With a glare, I confronted him. “What do you want?”

He pushed passed me and enters the apartment as if aware that I might close the door again anytime. I follow after him after closing the door behind him. Dre turns around and looks at me, his expression a fog of rage. “So what, you were just going to ignore me?”

My arms cross over my chest. “I don't want to see you.”

“I just want to explain, myself, Aquila. People make mistakes, you know? Or am I not allowed to be human?”

"Some mistakes can't be forgiven."

He sneers, “Who are you to determine what mistakes should and should not be forgiven? Are you God, Aquila?”

“No,” I shake my head. “But I'm a person. I decide what I want to tolerate from people, Andre. You can't decide that for me. You don't know me—”

“You don't know fuck all about me either! You judge me because of one drunken mistake. Has little miss perfect never done something wrong? Is that it?”

My lips part to speak, but the words stop dead in my throat. His words leave a mark. Says a lot about his perception of me. Like I'm some condescended hypocrite who thinks she can do no wrong. It made me wonder, briefly, who I thought I was to think of myself as a good person.