tongue of the serpent ➵ a.b.

Chapter 16: Talking to Walls

"How about this?" Andy asks, holding up a Crown The Empire shirt.

I shake my head and continue looking at the band tees on the wall. Hot Topic was the holy grail of bands. I spy a Pierce The Veil shirt and I reach for it, but Andy interrupts me by flashing a Sleeping With Sirens shirt in front of my eyes. "This?" he asks.

I turn away, "No." I turn to the glass cases of body jewelry. I could use some more 00 gauges. I pull down my fedora disguising my identity.

"Could always use more gauges," Andy smiles, tugging at my ears.

I jump, "Ouch!" I feel my ears. "Do they have any tunnels? More specifically, double-flared?"

Andy inches close to the cases and examines them. He looks closely and kneels down, his eyebrow arching. "I see one."

I crouch and he points to it, tapping the glass. They're a metal-type.

"They even have some 00 plugs that have anchors on them," he adds, sounding proud.

I ask an associate to open the case and we check out. I end up leaving Hot Topic with two pairs of gauges and three band tees. Iron Maiden; We Came As Romans; The Used.

"Thanks Andy," I say, smiling.

He says no words. He looks at me and shrugs. He seems happy to help me out.

I heard my stomach grumble loudly, walking to the car in dead silence. I could really go for just about anything.

"Hungry?" Andy asks, stepping into the car and laughing at my whale of a stomach.

"Starving!" I simply yell, setting down my two bags.

Andy begins to shift the car into reverse and backs out slowly. "What you in the mood for?"

I shrug, "I can honestly go for anything." I look at Andy right when he's about to turn the wheel to turn out the lot. I grab his hand on the wheel, causing him to go in the wrong direction; too short of a turn.

"What the fuck?" he semi-yells and looks at me, with disbelief.

All I wanted was to tell him thank you to the face. All I wanted was to make him feel better. All I wanted, wasn't the shirts and gauges, but his heart.

"Sorry," I say. I take off my sandals and curl up my legs to my bust. I put my head in between my knees. I keep quiet and tuck away my feelings.

"Why'd you do that?" he asks, slowly. I look at him and he watches me look away. "I'm not mad."

"Whatever," I spit out, making my insides churn. I feel like I swallowed something I can't digest. "Can we just go eat?"

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We pull up to a little Chinese restaurant. "We're here," Andy announces.

I don't move. I'm not in the mood to eat anymore. I lay my head on the window and I hear Andy step out the car and slam the door: anger.

Andy comes around to the other side and kneels down next to me. Through the mirror I see his worried expression. "You coming or what?" The glass barrier between us muffles his voice.

I nod slowly. I pick up my head and Andy opens the door. I walk out the car and take his hand in my own. He doesn't smile, he ignores it. He acts like he's nervous.

We walk in the little shop and a Chinese woman is at the register. She brings us to a table for two and says, "The waiter will be with you shortly."

Did I forget to mention this was a buffet? They had noodles, fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, pepper steak, and everything you could imagine.

I looked at Andy and sucked in my feelings. I widened my eyes and sighed, silence. There were many other people in the restaurant, and I just assumed their chats would shoo the silence away from our table. But the engulfing power of the oblivion stood, not moving until it got what it wanted: revenge.

"So," Andy speaks, "you like Chinese?"

I smile to lighten the mood. The silence was itching on me. I could feel his breath upon my neck and his hands tickling my thigh. "Yeah," is all I say.

Andy gets a iced tea and I get a Coke. The waiter comes with them.

The sound of silence drowned out the surrounding areas. I grabbed onto the table, knowing if I didn't grab onto anything, I'd be a goner.

Silence engulfs my very being and I step into another world. Andy's blue eyes become a brown, much like my own. His hands become stubbier and his voice grows louder and lighter in pitch. His face goes from neutral to a snarl and his hair grows onward. He now possesses the smell of liquor and 5 o'clock shadow.

I am now standing before my father. He barges in the door my mother came into before. He destroyed my pink room.

"What the fuck?" he asks, seeing me talk to a wall. But the figure wasn't just a wall...to me

"Sorry," I say, turning to him and clinching my fists in an effort to not speak my mind.

"Why'd you do that?" He softens his expression. The beer in his hand gives off ice-cold radiation. "I'm not mad."

"Whatever," I spit out. The conversation drags me back. When I stopped Andy from turning and almost made him crash. When my father came in. All were the same dialogue. The same feeling of dread came upon me.

He leaves, crashing the door into the frame on his way out.

A chef slams the kitchen door and I find myself hearing noises. I then create the restaurant in my mind again.

I look down towards my hand and my fingernails are digging into the wood. I release my grasp and Andy gains form across the table.

"You okay?" Andy reaches across the table and feels my head with the back of his hand.

I smile, seeing him made me feel better. "Yeah, I just had a caffeine crash."

A whisk of light speeds past the isle to my right. A woman. With blonde hair and a familiar complexion. I was seeing things. I was seeing her.

"Andy, we have to leave."

"Why?" he calmly takes a sip of his tea.

I look to my right and the whisk becomes a body. It transforms into the name engraved on Andy's body. Juliet. He doesn't seem to notice when she sits on his lap. She is only in my mind.

I stand and rush out the restaurant and get into the car, passenger side.

I see the whisk float away from Andy as he jogs to me. As he opens the door, I slip away from him. "Get away from me!" He was a drug.

"What's wrong, Lethia?" he gathers himself in the car and turns the key, sending the car into a jolt.

I turn away from him. "You wouldn't understand." This was a half-lie. He really wouldn't. But yet he would understand why I saw the whisk. He would understand the reoccurring themes throughout the dialogue of my day. He would understand why I talk to walls.

He is the wall.

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