Weeks conceded hastily, resembling the natural blinks of somnolent eyes, and the protracted nights flowered into optimistic days.
There was no trepidation that a definite friendship had bloomed amid Willa and Chester – at least it was friendship that Willa willed herself to repute it as regardless of the hammerings within her chest, the heat that would audaciously scuttle up her neck, the trifling smiles and the glimmers in her once dismal eyes that would jolt to life with every conversation the pair shared.
Willa did everything in her being to keep her grandmother out of her bedroom so the destruction wouldn’t be viewed by the aging woman’s eyes. Willa would come up with excuses - claiming that she didn’t want her inside, and that it was far too of a mess for her to see.
Willa kept this scheme up for quite some time – that is, until Angela had barged in unpredictably with thundering steps much to Willa’s surprise. The grandmother’s silver eyes had amplified with shock, and an callous squeak had slithered out from between Willa’s chapped lips, for she had been fiddling with her chest of paper hearts, waiting for Chester to join her on the contrasting side and start up a chat, just as they had done every day since the faithful day of their improbable meeting.
The air allayed and all was tense as Willa scrutinized her grandmother progressively breathe in and out, and the light imitated in her irises flickered from the distinctive hole in the wall to the shrinking fledgling girl.
“Willa,” Angela began, her abrasive voice precariously calm. “Be an absolute dear and fetch the landline and my phone book for me, would you? I’ll be giving Mister Samuels, the carpenter, to come over and give this mess a fix.”
Willa’s mouth plummeted open and she gawked at her grandmother with eclectic eyes. The elder woman lingered unfazed, for irritation and incredulity surged through her veins without a second thought. Willa endeavored to filament derisory words together in hopes of reasoning with her grandmother, but the seriousness displayed in Angela’s eyes barred her from meritoriously doing so.
Hours later, Willa watched with inclusive, apprehensive eyes as her grandmother prattled off abhorrent directions to the middle-aged carpenter before swallowing perceptibly and twitching from nervousness as dust and debris powdered the atmosphere of her solemn bedroom in violent seas. She twiddled with her nimble fingers, thoughts of Chester and what his reaction would be saturating her cluttered mind.
She imagined his disenchanted expression when he would come across the newly formulated barrier, and she couldn’t help but feel vile at the sight of her only friend being so utterly disappointed in her due to a mere mistake – one that she could have certainly prevented.
Suddenly, Willa craved her mind functioned accurately – she detested the fact that her mind was incompetent of thinking quickly, and the fact that it was her mind that was behind the source of her troubles. If she had the capability to think effectively, she would have easily prevented the situation, but the madness coursing through her brain in waves disastrously preoccupied her thoughts.
In what seemed like a few minutes, Willa discovered a luminous partition standing proudly in place of the wrecked barrier moments prior. Her grandmother commended the sweaty carpenter before ushering him back outside and to his truck, waving daintily with her handkerchief. Following his departure, Angela reimbursed inside the antiquated manor and stood before her uneasy granddaughter with unmistakable authority.
“I don’t want you ever speaking to that boy again,” Angela demanded. “Because I am aware that you do – you’re here to recover, for goodness’ sake, not to dilly dally around with boys with problems of their own. Nor do I want you to create another mess; this would not have happened if you had remained more careful. From now on, you are to help me with chores inside the house and are to be let out with permission only, is that clear?”
