Eigengrau

I think I'm beginning to fall

Chapter 10:

Dear Charlie,

The last letter I got from you is dated February 9th 2010. It's been five years since we last wrote each other. Looking back, I miss it. To be honest, texting and skype have nothing on letters. We'd already discussed this when we were still corresponding, but I thought I'd use it as an excuse to write to you again.

Five years is a long time to write down, so I'll just tell you about the events that made me think of writing to you again, my confidant.

About a week and a half ago, all the families that come to Eastham for the summer started arriving. I tend to enjoy the better part of it, because I get to see some of my friends who don't live here. But if there's an arrival that I was definitely not looking forward to was the Duncans'. Do you remember Casey? The girl next door who's the laughing stock of the whole town? Well, they came back this year.

As you probably deduced already, there's a "but" to my story.

But this summer, they've brought with them Clara Duncan, Brett's new wife, and Mia Martin, Clara's daughter.

They are both from Argentina, down there where it's cold (or so Mia's told me). Even though their main language is Spanish, they speak an amazing English. Clara's a translator for Brett's company, Mia just lived with her mom and picked it up, at the same time she attended classes at school. Not that it matters much, she'd still be amazing, even if she spoke Russian.

You were expecting that, weren't you? Yes, your friend who rarely ever shows any interest in anyone, is finally doing so. She doesn't seem to notice, though. Since she got here, last week on Monday, I've tried to approach her, to get to know her a bit better. I can't complain, because I actually got my opportunity to do so pretty early on, the first night of her staying here.

It was late at night and neither she nor I could sleep. By chance, we met in our backyards and started talking. She was sweet, and funny. And Io, my cat, didn't hate her, which is always a good sign, given that she hates everyone. We stayed up chatting until five in the morning, as the first rays of sunshine appeared on the horizon. Charlie, you're the only person I'd ever admit this to, but that was the best night I've had in years (and I've had some pretty good ones).

Even so, I dreaded the feelings -at the moment they were more like sensations- that she'd awakened in me. I thought they were wrong, that I must have misinterpreted that rush of energy that ran through my body each time she looked at me. I also repressed those feelings, or made them seem unimportant because I thought my friends would disapprove. Can you believe how stupid I was?

Before I had any say in the matter, though, my dad and Mia's mom teamed up and forced us -Mia and I- to go and meet my friends. I could see on our way there that she wasn't fond of the idea, maybe even less than I was. I think she didn't know I noticed how her legs trembled as we walked through the beach. I thought it was cute.

When we met them, she appeared to know exactly what to do. She stood her ground when they fired at her with all their might and power. She smiled at the right time, and in the right way. She didn't push matters that she knew didn't concern her. It was as if we'd rehearsed it. And even if we would have done so, the result wouldn't have been as good. My friends liked her, all of them but one. He'll come around eventually.

After that, I only saw her a couple of times before the weekend came around. I caught her before she went for her morning run -which is a daily thing, by the way-, I met her one afternoon swimming in the ocean, I crossed paths with her in town, while she was wondering alone. Now that I come to think about it, she was always alone in those situations, and for whatever reason, she always rejected my company. Not in a bad way, of course not! She's always sweet and polite, with her "I'm fine, thank you-s" and her "Don't worry, I'm used to be on my own-s". I can't blame her, though, being so far from home must be a challange. And she's not complained once about it.

But, as I've told you, the weekend came around, and we had a bonfire on the beach. You know how much we Americans love bonfires.

The gang was there, and I'd asked them if I could invite Mia, given that since our parents had forced us to meet them, my friends hadn't seen her. I thought a relaxing environment such as a party would help convince Walt (the one friend who didn't like Mia) that she isn't a bad person -and to basically tell him to shove his judgmental thoughts up his ass.

She showed up just in time, said she liked being punctual, and that she hated it when people showed up late. She was wearing a skirt and a short-sleeved shirt with a clever joke that I've now forgotten. The most beautiful thing she was wearing that night was her smile. I know it sounds clichéd and fake, Charlie, there will be no need of pointing that out in your reply, but if you would have just seen her! Her eyes had a glow in them that nobody else at that party had. The light of the moon seemed to be solely pointed at her, as if she were under the spotlight in a theatre. She was shy and modest, keeping away from the large groups of people and instead making conversation with my friends, and with the people she was introduced to.

Charlie, I think I'm beginning to fall.

Please tell me your thoughts on what I should do. After the bonfire I've only talked to her once or twice, and since that it's been a week. I might just be going crazy.

Also, I'm so sorry this letter's been all about me. I should have led with questions about you and your family, shouldn't I? How's everything going in rainy, gloomy England? Please, include any significant thing that's happened to you since we stopped corresponding, I'd love to hear from you, my friend.

All my best,

Riley Allen.