The wings attached. (Book one)

Now we are getting somewhere, however, in completely different department.

     When I was finished with my morning preparations, I found Jason and Andrew casually talking in the living room. They were waiting for me to start the meal as if nothing happened, as if nobody had any kind of discussions and as if they’ve just returned from a soccer game. What the heck? I advanced to the table and wordlessly placed myself on the chair. The conversation continued, again, as if I wasn’t there. My what the heck, slowly transitioned into what the f…!

     I was full after one piece of toast with butter. All my appetite went on speculations about the climate between two friends and of course, my plans for a day.

     Sadly, I discovered that except hanging out with Jason, I had no other entertainment. The mess that had stayed after me in my apartment wasn’t a very attractive perspective. It went on a “to do” list for the next day.

     I looked around the room and it seemed that the boys were not in a rush to go anywhere. As if it was a super bowl weekend, they sat of the sofa in front of the TV. Well, all right. I spied my books on the bookcase by the wall and went to examine my lost treasures. I grabbed the tragedies of Shakespeare and ran with my fingers by the pages. It used to be my favorite book. Used to be…not anymore.

     My eyes were busy with reading, but my brains were occupied with inner debates. I was not in my place here. I had lots of stuff to do, and to take a day off from my life was only prolonging the suspense.

     “I should get going, probably.” Softly, I addressed to Jason.

      “Why? Stay here. You don’t need to go,” he murmured lazily. “Let’s go for a walk later on, besides Andrew is leaving for his family event.”

     Assuming that the party was related to the wedding, I questionably glanced at Jason. As a best man he should be there. Andrew caught my stare. “It’s related to a photographer. Jason’s presence isn’t required,” he pronounced without a hint of hostility. Got it! But, but, but…

     Without giving me a chance to find another reason to leave, Jason got up and darted to the bathroom. I hugged the book and went to sit in the armchair purposely avoiding to look anywhere but the TV screen.

     “What did your mother look like?” Andrew turned the TV off. Asshole.

     “Can you quit it? Seriously.” I muttered getting really annoyed by his sudden interest in my family.

     “Just answer the question,” he threw back at me.

     “I don’t know,” I groaned.

     He considered my response for a second and asked the same question from a different angle. “How do you remember her?”

     It puzzled me and cooled my irritation. As if trying to find my weak spot he hit ten out of ten. I froze staring at his calm face. “She was beautiful, wild...”

     “Was she like you when you were getting intoxicated?”

     “Close.” I assumed he meant the untamed part where I was more spontaneous than an extreme lover.

     “When she was getting drunk by herself?”

     “No,” I looked away and duck my head. “She was turning into somebody I hated.”

     “You think it was your fault?”

     I smiled. “And what do you think?”

     “Does it matter?” He made a face.