Is It Not

Chapter 5

*12 days later*

It's quite obvious that I didn't despise him. I just couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. I know one day I'll regret it, but it's too late now. The pieces of our story may not always add up but that's because it's erratic, and I know it will be for however long it may last.

Agreeing to meet him twelve days later was an easy choice. We had an undeniable pull, and I feel like it will continue to be that way. We ended up agreeing to meet at the park.
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"Tell me about your life," he randomly states.

"That's pretty vague," I snort. He sends me a look raising an eyebrow. I give in.

"My mom died from a terminal illness," I state before glancing down at my hands. I can't stop from wringing them together.

He's staring at me pure curiousness in his eyes. I should finally tell someone everything. I want it to be him.

"Obviously as it was a terminal illness, she died soon after being diagnosed," I continue slowly.

Retelling all the details makes it so much more real. Sometimes I'm not sure if it was real or not.

"That left my dad and I to fend for ourselves," I gaze up at the swings reliving the moments I can still remember of my mom.

Alex asks me something but all I hear is a jumble of words.

"Hm?" I ask looking over at him. Only half of me is registering anything he says.

"You and your mom, did you guys come to the park often?" He asks.

I want to fiercely shake my head yes and stand up and shout to the world how unfair it is and that my mom should still be here with me, pushing me on the swings. Not in the ground at a cemetery where I can only visit her but no longer feel her comfort.

I realize I have yet to answer his question.

"Everyday," I inform him then pause debating whether to say more, "we would come everyday, and she would push me on the swing till my heart's desire."

I don't want to keep going, I want to stop talking now, but I know I must continue. I need to get it all out at least once.

"It became routine when my dad had started working more hours. We were short on money, I didn't understand." The next part slips out softly, I'm not quite sure if I say it out loud or not. "It's a home away from home."

He raises a hand slightly causing me not only to flinch but to blink a few times in fear.

He pushes a little piece of hair that always refuses to cooperate behind my ear.

It's a gentle touch, and I'm kind of confused by it but also warmed at the same time.

"My dad had a hard time coping, they were so in love, so naturally he turned to things to ease the pain."

He's quick to put his two cents on that.

"And then he took it out on you?" He says it more as if he is confirming his thoughts rather than asking.

I nod in confirmation, "then he took it out on me."

"I don't want to say I'm sorry because I'm sure you've heard enough of that, but you don't deserve to have to deal with this."

"No one deserves to have to deal with any of what they do," I retort.

"True," he nods agreeing.

We're both quiet for a while after, and I figure he's trying to process all I've just said.

I on the other hand just need to relax because it was the first time I've ever told anyone.

"Charlotte," he starts, and I swallow hard preparing myself for what he is about to say. He pauses something changing in his eyes. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and he turns my head to look directly at him and into his eyes.

"Let me take care of you," he states, "let me be the one who you come to talk to and who gets to hold and comfort you."

My heartbeat picks up as he looks at me with care. So I agree, and he smiles making my heart flutter. His hand rubs my cheek for a second before dropping down to grasp my hand.

Life is too short not to take risks and live your life Is It Not?