Through Her Eyes [ editing ]

Chapter 2

Edward lives on the richer side of the neighbourhood in a big house with brown bricks. I know he's not at home, though. He's in the forest, or at the lake. My guess is the latter. He's always there, not necessarily because he doesn't like being at home, but rather because the lake is like his hideout. It's calm, pretty. It's a place just for us. It's our lake. No one ever goes there. It's tucked in the middle of the woods. It's perfect. Edward likes everything involving nature. He loves the fauna and the flora. He loves the wild, the adventure.

I find him sitting on the dock at the edge of the water, feeding bits of bread to the mallard ducks. I watch him for a few seconds, watch him smile to himself and speak to the animals. It's sweet, I think, how caring he is. I take a step backward to leave, thinking maybe it isn't such a good idea to talk to him after all. I don't want to bother him. Instead, I land on a thin twig which makes a cracking noise underfoot. I flinch. He flinches, too. He twists around, his eyes meeting mine.

"Jesus, Margo," he breathes, "you scared me."

"Sorry. Who'd you think it was?"

"I dunno, a bear?"

"I'm glad I sound like a bear to you."

"What? No... No, no, no! I didn't mean it at that way!"

"I know," I nudge him jokingly, my bruised shoulder hitting his. I wince, turning my face the other way to mask the pain. I can feel Edward staring at me, though, and my cheeks grow hot.

"Wanna go for ice cream?" he asks.

"It's a bit cold."

"It's never too cold for ice cream."

"Maybe it is,"

"Dang it, Margo! Why are you so boring?" he chuckles.

I want to laugh, too, but I can't. The pain in my shoulder is throbbing. "Ice cream sounds good. I'm full, though," I lie, "maybe in an hour or so we can go."

"Ah, fine. You know what they say... Happy wife, happy life!" There's a pause. "Not that you're my wife... Or anything, for that matter..."

I manage to breathe out a laugh and glance at one of the ducks: the largest one of the bunch, coated in bushy feathers that look like they've been worn out with age. "That duck looks like it's been through a lot," I say. I feel the need to distract him from my injuries even though he can't necessarily see them - I'm wearing a long sleeve. Still, I feel exposed. Vulnerable, in a way.

"Yeah, he comes here everyday and waits for me to feed him. I named him Dennis. Dennis the duck."

"That's cool," I offer him a smile, extending my legs and laying down, feeling the motion of the water rock beneath me through the wood.

Edward positions himself next to me. "What do you wanna do when you're older, Margo?"

I turn my head to face his, our eyes meeting once again. His are a deep, rich brown. He's handsome, in a way, but I don't think I like him. He's been my best friend for far too long. We've lived near each other for ages. "I don't know," I say. "Maybe... Maybe get a teaching degree, like Grandma. What about you?"

"I dunno, raise of flock of ducks?"

"Ah, have Dennis' legacy live on."

"Exactly! You know what? You should join me. We could own a farm together."

"That's an idea."

"You know what? We could get a piglet. Pigs are cool. Highly intelligent, too." He smiles at me, reaches into his bag, pulls out more bread and rips a chunk from the loaf. "Want some?" he asks.