As Told By Nerdy

Chapter 9 - Leon's Confessions

We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack. 

--Marie E. Eschenbach

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Chapter 9 – Leon’s Confessions

It’s Sunday, late in the afternoon and Mom urged me to go out or do something when she noticed that I was fully intent on spending the rest of the day staring defiantly at the ceiling and brooding about internal issues that wouldn’t reach her knowing.

I grunted in an enervated manner at her sudden demonstration of concern.

“I’m not going out, mother,” I yelled as she poked around, passing by every now and then. I sighed, exhaustion claiming me for no apparent reason.

Perhaps it was owing to the fact that I had not been able to get a decent sleep last night. Leon’s bedazzling face kept appearing on the darkness behind my lids. It troubled me how untrue Leon could get; how fictitious it was that he might, in some unknown universe like me.

Yes. I must be having delusions the whole time. That assumption was much easier to accept than that of last night’s.

I rolled over listlessly and reached for the apple on my table. It felt very real to my fingers, smelled quite real too. But somehow the contemplation of me and Leon... his hand pulling me to him... I couldn’t stand thinking of it much longer. My stomach fluttered and the thumping on my chest grew louder.

It was driving me mental!

I focused on the apple, so red and sweet smelling; somehow bringing me to an assumption. If the apple was real, thus, there was at least a ninety percent chance that Leon and that entire blunder last night were true. The ten percent was to the benefit of the doubt and I didn’t quite trust myself when it comes to matters such as these.

Shambling my way down the stairs, I surveyed the perimeter for any presence of Mom, still clutching the apple between my hands, grabbed a sticky note beside the fridge and wrote a on it.

Off limits.

The note attached snugly to the apple and after convincing myself with another thorough check, I stuffed it into the very rear of the fridge, unbelievably pleased with myself. I stood there after a minute or so admiring my work, when Mom entered the kitchen. Alarmed, I hastily threw the refrigerator door shut.

“I see you finally got up.” Mom eyed behind me. I slid to the nearest seat beside the counter.

“Mom... H-how long can an apple last? I mean if it’s in the refrigerator?” I asked inconspicuously.

Mom gazed at me with studying eyes and sat across the table as she scribbled something on the small piece of paper. When she finally raised her gaze, she pushed the paper to me with some cash. It looked like a shopping list.

“Two, maybe three weeks tops,” she replied unswervingly. Nevertheless, there was a suspicious guise about her face.

I nodded silently staring at the little piece of paper on my hand.

“Go and pick those up before dinner.” She stood, replaced the chair carefully on its alignment then headed to the garden.

I stalked her stomping my way as I did. “For the nth time, I am not going out today, mother.” I knew it was her pathetic excuse to get me out of the house because she didn’t fancy the thought of being around with a moping adolescent. Knowing Mom, she would always try to shun things that she could not deal with.