A Change of Heart {h.s.}

6

 

"Yeah...no."

"What? Why not?"

Marley looks at me with confusion. I look at her like she's got three heads.

"Several reasons."

"I've got all day."

My stare goes from crazy to annoyed.

"One," I count on my fingers. "You're dead."

This doesn't amuse her.

"Two, I'm housebound for at least two more weeks, possibly longer. Three, I will still have loads of restrictions once I'm not housebound. Four...would you like me to continue?"

Marley nods as she smirks and lifts her eyebrows, as if all of these reasons aren't roadblocks to living a full and exciting life.

"Four, nothing you say or do to help me will change people's minds that I'm a freak. And five, because I'm not sure you've let it sink in yet...you're dead."

Silence surrounds us like a blanket as yet another stare-down takes place.

"Are you done?" she asks eventually, sitting at the foot of my bed with her legs crossed under her.

"I'm sure I could think of more reasons if you wanted me to."

"You see that?" She points to me. "That's your problem."

"What's my problem?"

"You've got an excuse for everything."

Thanks, dead girl. I'm aware.

"Yeah, well, my entire life has set me up for that, incase you forgot."

This conversation is going nowhere. Suddenly feeling exhausted beyond belief, I slide further under the covers and throw my comforter over my head. The almost-instant warmth of my breathing filling my little enclosure feels nice and I think about staying under here forever, but as soon as the thought passes through my mind, Marley rips the blanket off my bed, exposing me to the cold and making me feel naked, despite being fully clothed.

"What the hell?"

"You are unbelievable," Marley shouts, jumping off my bed. "Here I am, willing to teach you how to enjoy your life a little bit and what do you do? You throw it back in my fucking face and refuse to believe that someone might actually have the answer to your problems."

I watch her as she scowls at me, furiously pointing in my direction whenever she thinks of a really good addition to her argument. I swear her feet would have definitely created a divot in the floor where she's been continuously pacing if she were real. It's pretty entertaining, and although I may not have any experience with people of the opposite gender, I know an angry girl when I see one, and this one is pissed.

Above all of this, though, the most amazing thing is that for once I don't have a response; not necessarily because I think she's right or wrong, but because as she's yelling at me, throwing her arms here, there and everywhere, I realize something.

This is the first time I've ever had a girl in my room.

I don't count yesterday because it was--and still is--too much to process. And although she's entirely transparent and doesn't have a single ounce of appreciation for my specific type of charm, she's a girl, and she's here.

"Are you even listening to me?" she yells and I snap into focus, a chuckle escaping my lips without permission.

A girl is finally in my bedroom and she's already yelling at me.