Falling

9

I still remember that whole day...I was five. We both were. It was a less-than-beautiful day outside, and dark clouds covered the sky (as expected, because London had already experienced its annual three days of good weather). It was almost certainly going to rain, but my mum had taken the risk of getting soaked at the park just to write a smile across my little mischievous face. She had also decided to take me to the park because I was making such a huge fuss about wanting to get out of the house. We made our way to the park by car but along the way, for whatever reason, our old BMW convertible (the 'transformer', I called it) broke down. It just stopped, and we held up the traffic for about half-an-hour. Soon after, with no help at all, the car just started working again. So we kept going to the park. When we got there, I heard an ice-cream van. I turned my head, and there it was: the mighty ice-cream truck, serving man's most delicious creation. After about ten straight minutes of begging my mother for ice-cream, she finally agreed. When we got to the truck, there was another mother with her daughter in front of me. The mother had just handed her daughter the vanilla ice-cream cone, which was topped with a chocolate bar. As they were about to walk away, my diminutive younger self stepped forward and ordered my ice-cream. I didn't get the treat though. With an apologetic smile, the vendor spoke to me. "Sorry, kid. That's the last of 'em. Come back tomorrow!" Still wearing a smile, he drove off. As the mother and her daughter were about to walk away, the daughter turned her head and saw my near-tearful sadness at not getting that ice-cream. My sadness seemed to turn into unwarranted guilt in her eyes, and she handed me her ice-cream. Nobody had ever done something as nice to me before. As my mother and I thanked the daughter, our mothers struck up a conversation about schools and other stuff. This bored both me and the girl, so we headed off to nearby swing where we had a talk of our own. Turns out we were a mutual source of perfect company to each other.

I was sitting at the park bench and had been waiting for over two hours. Normally, I would've left after about half-an-hour of waiting but this time it was different. I needed to talk to her. To clear the air. I hated the idea of us being apart, and yet had somehow come to terms with it over the past week. However, accepting my situation was the only method I had to cope with the pain. When someone's hurt, their judgement is clouded. All their actions are focused on getting rid of their pain, which means that they may do something they won't normally have done. Humans are selfish like that (most of them anyway). Pain is like the world's biggest attention whore, in that it constantly demands acknowledgement.

After another half-an-hour of waiting, she finally showed. Lacey Huntington, with her gleaming eyes and glowing skin, her luscious blonde hair and natural beauty. When she saw me though, she didn't smile. Instead, she just took her place beside me. "So...how long were you here for?" she asked. I was tempted to scream "TWO FUCKING HOURS!" at her, but I resisted the urge. "Not, uh, not long." I said. "So...how have you been?" I was nervous, but eager to get the conversation going. "I've been, uh, good. Did you see Mr. Tanner's new ear piercing?" she laughed, but I could sense her uncertainty. She, like me, was still considering whether this meeting was a really good or really, really bad idea. "Yeah, god. Worst. Thing. Ever." This small talk wasn't getting us anywhere, and she and I both knew that neither of us gave a fuck about his ear piercing. It was just to kill time, to keep the rusty truck that was our conversation rattling on for a couple more miles. "Listen, Lace. I just wanted to talk to you, um, about, um--" There it was again, my pesky awkwardness revealing itself. "About?" she asked, a smile written across her face. "About...us. You know, we haven't talked to each other in a while, and I wanted to make sure we were okay. "You tried to kiss me, Ethan. Can you even imagine how shocked I was by that? Nobody does those things out of nowhere, and I didn't know how to react...so I just needed some space." I was slightly relieved, purely at the fact that she was willing to answer my questions and not just push them away. "Yeah, I know. Lace, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for confusing you, for hurting you, and for hurting our friendship. I know I shouldn't have done that, but I can't help how I feel. About you. About us. I like you, Lace. I really do. You're beautiful, you have the best personality, and I just love everything about you." Lacey's straight face softened. She knew how it felt to love someone and not have those feelings returned, so she understood how I felt. That was another reason why I loved her...she was so understanding. Her capacity for empathy was greater than anyone else, and she was so willing to put herself in my position. "Listen, Ethan. I--" I cut her off because I already knew what she was going to say. "I know, Lace. You don't feel the same way." She didn't say anything. Instead, she bit her lip and sorrowfully stared down at the dirt, which was how I knew that I was right. After a lengthy pause, she broke the silence. "You know what? Why are we still here? We're older now. Let's go to a bar or something, okay?" So we did. She and I trudged along in silence towards MallX, a nearby joint. Usually, I would have been ranting to her about various things, from Gus' insistence that I should wear dungarees to my mother's overprotectiveness. However, at this point, I understandably didn't feel like talking. I mean, I knew that she didn't feel the same way about me since the kiss, but I still felt like I'd been shot.