Fading Out

Chapter 8

After the story she told me, how can she expect me to stay silent? I realize I have been staring at her for some time when she snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. "You alive?" She asked me in a sarcastic voice and I hear the imaginary warning bells ringing. "What turned you into a human statue? The fact that I was murdered? Or the fact that I was going to marry someone other than my childhood love? Because the last time I checked, the both still happen very commonly. Which further implies you are an idiot and a fool for not accepting this face of your world. Be realistic."

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. After all, I have no idea how to respond this stuff. As a result of this, I respond in a way that was way off the idiocy scale. “I am sorry. Are you okay?” What does a person expect as a response when he asks someone whether the person is okay after they tell the story of their death? Someone commit me to idiot asylum.

Her eyes narrow in anger and the entire illusion of the rustic world around us fades. Somehow, she was also managing that while telling her story and I could almost believe that I was in the dawn of twentieth century myself. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. It was an idiotic thing. I swear I only said it because it was the first thing I could think of. I… Wait, I was awake an entire night. Why am I not tired at all?” I seriously need to filter what I speak. I ask while apologizing to her. I was actually going to use my tired mind as an excuse but the fact is that I don’t feel tired at all.

She fakes an over-exaggerated yawn and speaks, “So you finally figure it out. I was thinking you never will. I have ensured you don’t fall asleep while I tell you about my past. Because if you do…” I raise my hands in surrender. Message received. Loud and clear.

“Is it hard?” I ask and under her scrutinizing gaze, I barely resist the urge to break our eye contact. “Is it hard to look at me and remember him?” She is silent for a few moments and I finally give in to my desire to break eye contact. I stare at the room all around me. It seems that the magic that held the room somewhat true to its original glory is now dissipating. The light emitting from the bulbs is dying and the little things no longer look new but look as if they have been lying around for decades, which they have. In simple, the place was aging rapidly without Daisy’s influence. I wondered if she held the house together as well. But I don’t get to ask this because Daisy finally responds and I turn to see her looking at me but her eyes glazed as if she’s remembering.

“Seeing you doesn’t exactly hurt. It’s more like a sad reminder of something I had and lost without ever realizing its value. Your looks are so much like his that if I dressed you in his clothes, even his father wouldn’t have been able to identify you weren’t his son.” Then with a more focused look on my face, she adds dryly, “At least until you open your mouth.”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes at her way of saying that. This girl has a good sense of humour. “Amen to that. I would have to only speak a word for him to catch me. But thankfully we don’t have to worry about that. I can’t time-travel.”

“See what I meant? Of course you don’t. You open your mouth and even if someone would confuse you with Samuel, they would figure you out. Though you share certain other characteristics with him as well.” I open my mouth to ask what but she interrupts to add. “Don’t ask. I’m not going to compliment you. I have seen how boys like you are in these modern times. I am not helping that ego grow even a bit.”

“Wow.” I respond with a smile. “That’s a lot of words you have mastered over the years. Spent a lot of time people watching?” Her smile momentarily falters and I curse myself internally. Stupid. Why did I remind her of her long afterlife on here just when we were getting along?