Completed on 24/09/2018
Tell me who hurt you?" It was a command. I could have been afraid and probably told the whole of my traumatic childhood but I shook my head. There was no way I was telling him my darkest secrets.
"I will find out..I always...
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If we knew each other's secrets, what comforts we should find.
~John Churton Collins~
Raphael
After the New Year celebrations, we were all back home except Rom who was still in Kenya. Sophie seemed comfortable and in peace with her parents past though I caught her staring at the space few times, her eyes lost almost sad and vacant.
She had not told me what she felt about any of it. I asked but every time I did she said she was okay. It drove me crazy, angry and so much insecure which I didn't want to examine closely. I wanted her to tell me everything she felt. I wanted her to tell me her secrets, her fear, her insecurities and her dream.
I wondered what exactly she felt about her mother. Was she afraid she would turn to be like her? Because I could have turned that shit down immediately. Watching her struggle through her miscarriage was painful and if she was that affected by it, there was no way she would ever be like her selfish, spineless mother.
Leaning on the kitchen door watching her mix flour in a glass bowl, a smidgen of flour on the tip of her nose, humming softly under her breath, her attention fully engrossed on whatever she was doing, she was breathtaking.
I stood there for few minutes just watching her, my eyes drinking her in, marveling in the fact that she was mine.
"Cara, please tell me what is bothering you" I said without preamble. Her face lifting abruptly, startled by the sound of my voice.
"I thought I was alone, how long have you been standing there?" She asked, wiping her hands with the hand towel that sat on her shoulders.
"A few minutes" I smiled at the frown on her face, her eyes full of irritation. I did not know whether it was because I had watched her without her knowledge like a creep or because I asked a question which she was not ready to answer.
"What makes you think anything is bothering me" Her smile felt forced, the corners of her mouth stretching seemed painful.
"Don't do that. I know when something is bothering you" I could see her brain working perhaps wondering what she could tell me and what she would leave out.
"I would really like you to tell me everything that is bothering you" My voice bordered on a plea and frustrations. I wanted her to trust me with all she was.
"Why do you want me to tell you everything about me when you tell me nothing about yourself?"
"I remember telling you a lot about me"
"Yes you did, but you also said that wasn't even a quarter of who or what you are"
"Cara, hearing about your parents obviously bother you, I feel you tossing and turning at night; unable to sleep. I catch you lost in thoughts, your eyes vacant and I hate it. I don't give a fuck about my father, I don't lose sleep over him but you lose yours over your father. I just want to understand why"
