The Turn of Truth

• days sixteen to twenty two •

day twenty (monday)

I don't hear from Alex for three days, but I keep my mouth shut. The weekend passes with me comforting Ray and Ray comforting me. He's better now, but still not good. If they do get a divorce, Ray says, he wants to live with his father. But his mother will be heartbroken. But...

It's Monday when I start seeing things. Like, not imagining things but start noticing them.

For example, when Alex is sitting next to me but not saying a word, I find it incredibly hard not to stare at him. But it'd be straight up weird if I stare at his face when he's a feet from me, so instead, I stare at my hands, and indirectly, at his. I notice the way he plays with his fingers and I notice some black ink there. Is that a tattoo? I can't see clearly because that part of his hand is hidden but it sure looks like a tattoo. Unless he wrote on his hand when he was studying physics and getting bored or something.

Also, I notice just how large his hands are. His fingers are long and sexy and he's wearing a thick-strapped black watch which just adds to it. On his right hand, his ring finger has a ring on it (apparently he liked it. So... you know... he put a ring on it... okay sorry this was funny) and he's wearing thick David Guetta and Eminem wristbands.

His hands are attractive on a heavenly level. It's really hard to keep my head straight when it's concerning him.

But more than all of this, I notice Ray. I notice how annoyed he gets by Alex. When we get off the bus, Ray tells me that I'm whipped and I shouldn't be because I've known him for less than a month and that he's a dick and I should get over it. I just nod weakly. 

"How's things with your parents?" I ask when we're sitting in lunch. It's only the two is us. For some reason, we've lost complete contact with Shane or Irina, and neither of them seem to care. Actually, come to think of it, the only people I'm still in contact with are Ray and... well, Alex. Him not so much either.

"Quite the same," he says tiredly. He suddenly looks a whole lot older. It's obvious he hasn't slept well in ages, and I'm sure he could do with some coffee.

"You can come over whenever you want, Ray. My mother won't mind at all. In fact, if you want to get away from it all, my guest room is free. Mum won't say anything."

"It's not about that, Cass, it's just... I want my own room back. I want my sanity back. I don't even care about the divorce anymore. But they're not signing it. They've got the papers home but neither of them are ready to sign them, they're not ready for that kind of a commitment yet. Mum packed her bags and drove off to some hotel yesterday, and my father was in a bad mood, and I went to him and asked him to sign my school stuff, and he slapped me. He slapped me, Cass. The little old guy with the lilting accent and the family man's stomach slapped me. He apologised later, of course, he apologised profusely. And it didn't even hurt or anything. It was just a light slap on my back. But just... my father. He's being driven crazy enough to hit his own son. It's not fair to him, he's a good man. It's so unfair, so, terribly unfair."

"Why don't you talk to your mother?"

"Are you kidding? My mother is this hag bitch from hell who doesn't give a flying fuck about her husband or her son, all she wants is money and power, you don't understand Cass she's an A-class cu-"

"She's still your mother, Ray. Mind your language."

He shrugs. "I'm only saying what she deserves."

"What you think she deserves," I correct him. "There's a difference and you should be mindful of it."

"You're wrong, but I don't have enough energy to argue right now. Your parents broke up, too, Cass. How did you deal with it?"