Needle and Thread

Chapter 3

She looks familiar.

It has been years since I saw those cerulean blue eyes. I refuse to believe that they are staring up at me right now, shocked and watery. This is just a coincidence. They aren't hers.

Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and immediately opened them, realizing my mistake. Every time I let my lids down I see her. Gaping, shaking, and scared. Just as I had left that little child years ago. Gaping at the thought of me getting adopted, shaking because of her "mixed feelings", and scared... scared of losing, and being forgotten. It was a mutual feeling.

I thought we weren't going to be separated back then. It never crossed my mind that I'd leave her - them. She was frail, lonesome, and dependent. How will she survive without anyone to protect her? Those vultures of kids won't let her through a day without crying.

That morning. I was adopted, taken as we were playing outside by the sand box. It was sunny but the wind breeze danced on our skins like the air from the fridge. We were wearing matching shirts, mainly because the twins older than us gave her those red shirts. For luck, they said in unison. The ones wearing those wouldn't be separated.

I believed it. But now... now...

I refuse to believe this.

"You're the girl right?" I asked her with a steady voice.

She answered, looking as though she saw a living dead, "N-Noah?"

This is not her.

"How do you know my name?" I raised an eyebrow at her. She just continued looking at me so I didn't wait for her reply. "Come on, you missed dinner already. No one would want to tell that orphanage that a filth like you starved to death upon arriving," I spat.

"Excuse me?"

She would have cowered if this was her.

"Not excused," I replied nonchalantly, "Move."

Leading the way back to the house, I kept my face straight. There was a nagging feeling at the bottom of my stomach, and I wonder why is that. I ate already so hunger is out of the question. Maybe I forgot something. Or missed something.

My after dinner snack, maybe?

As I see the light from the back garden, I hurried my pace. I feel indifferent out here. I always have been. When we finally got inside the house, I hustled around to find Sylvia leaning on the kitchen counter.

"Hey, Sylvia," I greeted her with a thankful tone. "She was out in the woods."

The woman in her late fifties nodded at me, her forehead creases softening. Looking around, I spotted a green pail filled to the brim. She must have carried it from the bathroom near the kitchen. She is still strong despite her age. Strong and able, as she always said.

Sylvia has been Austin's nanny since he was a baby. Knowing the whole house like the back of her hand, one can never hide from her so just imagine the stress she was in when she found out that the foster girl put in her care was missing.

We would be forced to make 'Missing' flyers with her face pasted on it. Sylvia using force in any way in any circumstances is not good. Ever.

"You-" Sylvia started, raising her voice that caused the girl to look at her in alarm, she continued breathing once deeply, "disobedient... child. You mustn't go wandering around without anyone's permission and without knowing where you are. Come with me."

While the wonderful woman placed her hand on the girl's slumped shoulder gently, leading her to who knows where, I went straight to the lounge room and waited for Austin. I'd called him when we entered the house.

In the meantime, I pondered on my memory of that girl.

Black hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfect bowed lips, olive skin. She had those. Undefined cheekbones, too. She always had bruise on them. Small and huge ones. Not because of the other kids but because she liked to go on 'adventures' - adventures in her own world.

She never read my letters - never got the chance to, I guess for my letters were all returned.

I stopped writing a couple of years ago. She moved to another address, the checked box in the envelope said. She wasn't there anymore. Even my brother. Neither of them. They had already moved on with their lives and deliberately forgotten about me.

A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts, "Hey, man."

I looked up from the floor that I had been staring at, "Oh, hey, Austin."

"You look worried," he sat next to me, "Girl problems?"

I chuckled, skimming the gap between my molars with my tongue, "No, man. There aren't any girls to worry about."

"Ah," he nodded with a sly smile, "I take it you finally got over that girl."

I gave him a closed-lip smile. No, I wanted to say, but he won't understand. This isn't about romance or fantasies. This is about my childhood best friend.