I'm Fine

Chapter 16

I wake up Sunday morning feeling happy and dizzy. I remember going out with Harly till late night, doing who knows what.

I'm still in the same clothes I was in yesterday and stick my tongue out. I shower and change, then head down for food.

"How you doin?" asks Annette, smiling softly.

"Good," I reply, sitting down at the table. Annette serves me scrambled eggs and I eat them up.

"We going somewhere today?"

"Don't think so."

I check my phone for messages but there don't seem to be any. I'm about to get up to go back to my room, but the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" cries Annette, rushing over to me, still smiling.

I nod and wait for her to answer the door. She answers with a meek, "Hello."

Then she clears her throat and smiles sheepishly. "Can I help you?" It doesn't sound sincere.

"Is Imogen home?" asks a familiar voice. I shrink in my seat, and cover my face with my hands.

"Yes..." replies Annette, looking back at me. "No, sorry, I mean." She's not a good liar.

"C'mon Annette, I just want to talk to her," he says, almost begging.

She looks behind at me and I give her a small nod. What could go wrong?

"Fine." She grunts. "Come in Damian." He spy's me instantly and I sit up again.

"How are you?" he asks, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I squirm and push myself up and out of the chair.

"Fine. No thanks to you though," I say menacingly. He sighs and hangs his head, his hair flopping down in front of him.

"I took a risk giving you that bracelet, and the note. I'm sorry, but I thought you'd be ready." He looks up at me again, eyes wide and pleading for forgiveness.

I exhale a shaky breath. I'm gonna regret this.
"Apology accepted."

"Really?" he asks, looking a little bit more confident.

"Yeah," I say. "It's not your fault. Not really." Lies.

"Thank you, Imogen. I'm not an easy person to deal with, am I?" He chuckles to himself. He then starts walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask, but I say it too quickly, so it comes out frantic and desperate. What am I doing?

"Home. I came here to talk to you. Besides, I expect you don't really want to see me at the moment."

My heart feels torn. I hate him so much. He brought up everything that was neatly packed away in the corners of my mind, but suddenly, everything I wanted to forget has come back under the light. And I have a feeling that it won't be going away anytime soon.

But the truth is, Damian is not a bad person.

"Stay."

"What?" He raises a brow at me.

"Stay. I want to talk to you, I want to catch up. I want to...get to know you again." I walk closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you sure...?" he asks, eyes worried and uneasy.

"No. But I'll give it a shot if it makes you happy." Did I just say that!? Did I just say 'if it makes you happy?' I don't care about his happiness! ...Or do I?

"Okay," he says, nodding. Annette glances at me and frowns. I shake my head and the corner of her mouth twitches into a half smile.

"Your room?" he asks.

"I've got someplace better." No, no! What am I doing?! I can't take him there, it's my place. He can't...no...I.

"Show me," he replies, eyes bright and shiny, just like when we were kids.

Okay.

So I take him out the back door of the house to the backyard where the old oak tree is.

There was already a treehouse here when we had moved in, and Dad had renovated it for me and Lee to play in. I guess it isn't very secretive, but only when the leaves have dropped for the season.

I climb up the ladder and Damian follows me. I sit down on a little plastic chair and grab him a cushion.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Anything. Tell me about you. I'm listening."

I take a deep breath and smile.

"When we first moved, I was basically alone. Until I met Hurricane Harly..."

So after small silly stories about me and Harly when I first moved and stupid things that I did, he started talking and I started listening.

I felt a wave of emotion roll over me as he mention all our childhood friends, especially our goofball friend Oliver. He apparently got a part time job as a clown to get money.

It was almost four by the time we realized that we had spilled four years of lost time into the cold air.

"I guess we grew up."

I paused and smiled at him in the glossing light. My eyes shifted down to the wooden floors.

"Yeah. We did."