FEEL

11. Insoucism

Insoucism ~ the inability to determine how much sympathy your situation really deserves.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

His eyes grin towards me, blue as the calmest stream on a sunny afternoon. Beaconing, in the sweetest manner, yet domineering in a way that exudes humble confidence. In presenting himself, he somehow brings me relief, without even knowing it.

He greets me warmly, “Good afternoon, Aquila. It seems we have very common places of interest.” Mr Pierce gestures towards the bookshop he's about to enter.

Then, his gaze returns to me, frowning at my silence. He scans me up and down, studiously, like one would stare at a challenging math equation.

“All right?”

I nod. “I was just peeking in. I should head home.”

“I can drive you. It's quite a walk.”

“No, thanks.”

I leave, but he stops me. Takes my arm, so I freeze. It's not that he'd grasped me harshly, but at how gentle the touch was that seized my actions. For an intention meant to be brusque, he'd softened it in my honor, which naturally caught me off guard enough to halt dead in my tracks.

I glance at his large hand grasped around my upper arm. Even through the marroon school jersey, my skin felt hot beneath his touch. He released me when I do, so my eyes turn up to meet his.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes for something I'd like him to repeat a million times over. “You look stressed and it concerned me. It's nearly 4PM, I can't let you walk all that way. Let me drive you.”

I shake my head defiantly. I can't let him drive me home because I don't want to go home. “I need to run an errand for my mother first.”

“I'll take you.”

“No, I have to...I should...” I breathe, but no air comes in. By now, the feeling is familiar. I know what comes next. And it can't happen, not in front of him.

“Breathe, please.” He seems to notice.

I try not to cry. My brain tosses and turns in search for a good lie to tell him. The sharp pain in my chest returns. It hadn't quite left, just dulled. Now, it returned to its full capacity. In all effort, I manage not to wince.

Don't cry

“I have to go to...uhm...” Think, think, think...

“Take a breath, Aquila.”

I hear him, but not really. I can't go home. I won't. At least not now, probably not ever. My chest, it hurts. And no air. Why does this keep happening? I didn't do my Spanish homework. There's a math quiz tomorrow and I haven't studied. I think I left my camera in my locker.

Mr Pierce calls for me, and I remember the lie. I have to think of a lie. A lie or else he'll take me home. It's you. It's all because of you. You're the devil in this house. So loud. It's in my head, but it's ringing, booming, so loud that I can't hear where I am. Or feel where I am. Or who I am. My body is gone. I can't feel my body.

“Mr Pierce...” it's a whimper, but it's like the last of my breath was used to say just that, before I'm heaving once again.

A hand touches my chin. Gentle, soft. He's telling me to open my eyes. “Aquila, please open your eyes,” but I don't remember closing them. When I rip my lids apart, he's in front of me. His voice, so composed and relaxed, but his eyes convey so many strong emotions that I can't quite decipher which is dominant.