Her Eyes Gave Her Away

Chapter 4

I awoke that Saturday morning to sun shining in my eyes and the sound of birds outside the window. The three of us were lined up in sleeping bags on Olivia’s floor, and the comforter from Olivia’s bed was covering all of us. Pillows were strewn everywhere.

I stretched, starting with my toes, creeping up my legs, all the way to my arms, something I did every morning to keep me flexible and from cramping during the day. Yawning, I sat up, and noticed Lucy was up, typing on her phone (we were both early birds). Liv was still sleeping, a small snore slipping once and a while from her agape mouth. I laughed quietly and pointed it out to Lucy, and she giggled too. We waited for Olivia to wake up, and I grabbed my MacBook and opened my story. I typed away, adding page after page to my baby. Writing really helped me, I guess. It was a way of escaping this world and joining a new one. I liked the idea of being different people, inventing my way through different lives.

Around 7 in the morning Lucy and I decided to wake up a still-sleeping Olivia. We giggled as we each grabbed one side of the blanket she was laying on and lifted her up in the air, swinging her back and forth. She was still sleeping, causing us to erupt into more laughter. That finally woke her up.

“Jesus, guys! A simple, ‘wake up, Liv’ would have worked too.” She complained, putting her hair into a ponytail.

“I don’t know; the way you were sawing logs, we thought you never would have heard us!” Lucy said, and we fell into fits of giggles again.

“I don’t snore!” Liv pouted, crossing her arms proudly. I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever you say.” I shrugged, letting out a long snoring sound, and everyone – even Olivia – laughed at that one. We made our way downstairs for breakfast.

We opened cabinets, drawers and the fridge, searching for breakfast. We managed to find ingredients for pancakes, and soon we were flinging batter into the pan. The three of us ended up making twenty-two small pancakes, some burnt, others not cooked enough to taste good. There were about six good ones, and I laughed at our pathetic breakfast. Our creation also included a huge mess all over the kitchen, consisting of batter dripped and smeared everywhere. On the counter, burnt in the pan and on the burners, and even in Lucy’s hair. We dropped our dirty pots, pans, bowls and spoons into the kitchen sink, and sat down in the living room to eat. One: because it was comfy, and two: in hopes of seeing Jack in action. Ever since we saw him singing the day before I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“Why do you think he stopped singing?” Lucy asked softly, as if she was reading my thoughts. Of course, we all knew who the he was she was talking about.

“I don’t know.” I said truthfully. Olivia shrugged and took a bite of her mapley, soggy-ish pancake. I did the same, and they weren’t half bad.

“It was great singing, Luce. I hope he sings again so you can hear him.” I said.

“I bet he will. I don’t think someone can stop singing for years, and then sing once for no reason and stop again. I bet it’s something bigger than that. I bet he’s singing for a reason.” Olivia said matter-of-factly. I shrugged again and continued staring out the window. I noticed my cat prowling around in my yard, and when my eyes moved back to Jack’s porch. He was suddenly there, holding his old guitar in his lap, and I saw his lips moving.

“Guys!” I whisper yelled, afraid anything louder would reach him and he’d stop. When my friends’ heads turned to look where mine was staring, Olivia smiled and Lucy let out a small gasp. “What do we do? We can’t hear him from inside!” I whispered again, setting down my plate.

“Follow me.” Olivia whispered again, setting hers down too. Lucy put her breakfast on the coffee table alongside ours and we followed Olivia up to her bathroom, the one with the small window facing the front of the Thompsons’ house. She opened it just a crack, enough so, if we were quiet, we could plainly hear Jack’s voice. I recognized the song he was singing this time as a much different tune than Ed Sheeran.

“No, I don’t want good and I don’t want good enough, I want can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love.” It was “I Want Crazy” by Hunter Hayes. Hm,  I thought. I didn’t take him as a country guy. We listened as he sang the rest of the words, barely catching them sometimes.

“Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense, to anybody else. Who cares if you’re all I think about, I’ve searched the world and I know now it ain’t right, if you ain’t lost your mind. Yeah I don’t want easy, I want crazy. Are you with me, baby? Let’s be crazy.” I mouthed along to the song, and swayed back and forth. Lucy closed her eyes and a small smile formed on her lips, along with Olivia’s and mine. When he finished his song we scrambled on to our feet, the three of us standing in the bathtub. We were just able to see his back retreating into his front door. I sighed.

“God.” Was all I could say.