Red Velvet Cake

burlesque.

~ chapter two :: “ burlesque . . . ”

“…It was because of April Fools Day, right?”

My entire form froze at the words as they were spoken, a strikingly familiar burning sensation beginning to make itself known in the back of my throat. My jaw had opened slightly, lips parting into a barely visible ‘O’, only for me to realize that I had no intentions of saying anything even slightly coherent, at least not anytime soon. Rather, I immediately clenched my teeth together again, shutting my eyes tight. I suppose it was safe to say that I was under the impression that if I purposely chose to not look at the speaker that sat beside me, the conversation would drop…or better yet, she’d walk off and leave me be.

A reluctant nudge was felt along my arm. “April Fools Day,” she repeated, this time more slowly. Clearly, she was assuming I hadn’t heard her remark the first time around. “It makes sense…so tell me; that was why you said that thing yesterday, right?”

That thing. I inhaled deeply and sharply, the cold air causing me to shiver for a brief second as it rushed into my lungs, thus breaking me out of my earlier zombie-like trance. “Uh…” it was definitely a start; at least I had said something, “I…” Just as I was making ‘progress’, she jabbed my arm again, this time a tad more roughly as if to forewarn me of the fact that she was about to interrupt me.

“I mean, you couldn’t possibly have been serious.” I reopened my eyes just in time to watch her roll her own, a hint of pure disbelief and exasperation flickering through them in a flash. The obvious annoyance radiating off of her had me on the verge of cowering like some sort of terrified animal wanting nothing more than to flinch away from her touch. “Honestly, Dylann.”

And what could I say at this point? There was nothing to say, it seemed. Or at least, nothing that could make her think otherwise and disregard any assumptions that I was truly lying about what I had confessed to her just yesterday. I had been desperate enough to force myself into believing that she would somehow have the answer to the abnormal problem that has been plaguing me for nearly three years.

I had thought that was one of the main purposes of having a best friend: they were able to console you with almost everything wrong that went on in your life, even if they couldn’t relate to it themselves no matter how hard they tried. I thought that they always felt obligated to attempt walking a mile in your shoes, because they know you’d do the same for them without question. It was an implied giving and receiving; a rule of thumb.

Or, had I been taught wrong?

The long span of silence that followed had her getting quite impatient, I could tell by the way she squirmed around and began poking at a slumped-over dandelion that protruded by the grass near her foot. “Stuff like that…doesn’t happen in reality…it’s impossible…you were joking…I can tell—”

“Of course I was, Kat. Happy late April Fools,” I muttered quickly while plastering a fake grin onto my face, further stressing the lie that had appeared on the tip of my tongue. I no longer had the strength to fight my case any longer. Perhaps I was joking, maybe I am just the impossible one. What’s happened to me for three consecutive years has never happened to any sane person.

Or, maybe the joke’s on everyone else – for once.