Follow The Rain

Twenty Two

"I'll take you home," said Matthew, sitting down next to me on the patio step.

"It's okay, I'll just call my mom. Besides, you can't drive, remember?"

"Sure I can," he scoffed, putting an arm around me and pulling me closer for warmth. "I see you've taken to wearing other people's clothes without permission."

"I have permission," I protested, feigning innocence.

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"I'm your best friend."

"Can't argue with that," Matthew laughed. It was a bright laugh, floating through the air like mist and falling over us. I liked it. I liked it when Matthew was happy. In fact I loved it, it comforted me.

"Is your mom still talking to India?" I asked, remembering the reason I had been waiting outside for half an hour.

Matthew sighed and squeezed my hand. "My mom decided to send her to therapy. But can we please talk about something else?"

I nodded and looked down at my hands, imagining one gripping my sleeve for warmth, the other entwined with Matthew's. Maybe if I squeezed my eyes shut for a minute and opened them, I could see it. For real. But still nothing. It was something I did every day, hoping that maybe this was just some horrible dream that I could wake up from.

"Hey," Matthew whispered, lifting my chin to face him. "Don't think about it."

I nodded again, swallowing stiffly. If only I could still see his hazel eyes staring back at me. If only I could still see his smile with the dimples that he hated. The smile that used to light up my day without me even realising. That smile. A mop of light brown hair. The birth mark on his cheek that made him self-conscious. His freckles. The bump on his nose. All of it. All of it was right in front of me; the image was before my eyes but somehow only in my head. It made me want to reach out and trace every feature, every crease of his face just to make sure that I remembered it right.

"I can't," I replied.

"Yes you can."

"No."

"Kayla."

"Yes?"

"I'm not blind. I don't know how you feel. Talk me through it."

I said nothing but slowly shook my head. "It can't be explained."

"Okay," was all he said after a moment. Such a simple word that held so much depth. Okay. Was it okay? Was I okay? Yes. Was I perfect? No. Was I absolutely depressed? No. Then I guess okay works.

"Tell me about you," I said suddenly.

"You know me," he replied, obviously confused.

"Tell me about school, or sport. I just want a normal conversation for once."

Matthew understood and I let him talk, about anything and everything that came to mind. He told me his soccer team had won a tournament a few weeks ago. He told me that there was a new student teacher at the school that all the guys were chasing after. He beat Jordan at table tennis last week and his mom taught him how to make cookies - which he burnt (the answer to my question of why I didn't get any).

He taught India how to play chess and she ended up smashing him (I shouted "girl power" to that). He got a new job as a coffee barrister in De Ja Vû to help save up for university. A little girl at the beach told him he was cute and I had to laugh at that. It was the sweetest thing I'd heard in a long time.