Through Adversity To The Stars

Chapter 11 - Once It Felt Like It Had Disappeared

It felt as though I hadn't spoken to Remy in months, since he told me that Alexander all together wasn't a good idea, that he wasn't worth my time. However, as much as I wanted to believe Remy and agree with him, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I denied it, but I knew I truly wanted to waste that time on him.
This time in France I wasn't listening to the complicated words said by the French in town. Even when I had taken Alexander into town, I was still focused on the foreign language instead of what he was saying in English or what he had tried to say in French that made me snigger. This time my mind was either on Alexander or the strawberries once again. Remy had presented the strawberries with droplets of water still covering them that made them all the more difficult to not eat.
Remy wore his striped top and hair styled, something that Remy hardly had done before. Usually you would see him with his normal floppy hair doing its own thing. There was something on his mind. He could only tell sometimes what I was thinking, however I could read him like a children's book.
The wind gushed past us, pushing our hair in other directions. "You've got a date," I broke the silence after watching him brush over the strawberries. I couldn't tell you how easy it was, to know him.

My head still faced them but my eyes met his. "Yeah," he sighed beforehand as if he felt sorry for me, as if he didn't want to bring the subject up, as if he knew I didn't have one. Yet I already knew all three of those he was thinking with the furrow of his eyebrows. "Look, we don't have to talk about it -,"

"No," I cut in before he would say aloud why he wouldn't want to share the details with me, "tell me about them." I said it even though I didn't want to hear it. Is that why people do it? Asking about others interests in plans? To seem to others that they care? Don't get me wrong, I cared, I just didn't want to be reminded of the fact that I was a typical teenage girl with no one who loves them and seems to pity herself because of that, I despised it. Only being more apparent since Alexander, before I hardly took any notice.

Remy sighs heavily, hesitating to admit, "she's kind, funny, beautiful, everything that a boy looks for basically." I don't meet his eyes this time, I keep them low and on the strawberries. Like if I were to look at him that I'd be admitting to taking an interest in something that I failed to have.

I fiddled with the tops of the strawberries, the ends tapped against my fingertips, the feeling of them staying. A little comfort, that's all I wanted. "Is that all a boy looks for?" A soft breeze made our hair shiver, moving slightly as so did my eyes to his hands that were inches away from mine. "In a girl, I mean?" The sun shone in my eye, squinting as I felt the need to look at him, hoping eye contact could cure the loneliness.

Again, clearing his throat, his eyes met mine, easing me, "and other stuff too," he confirmed. Nodding he said no more; no name, no proper description just the end of a conversation. Then again I could blame myself, I could of continued but mind was focused on what he meant, what boys look for and I had it.

It had been apparent to me that the weeks gone by, I had become at ease with how I was and how I spoke. The overthinking of every word was no longer because I only focused on what meant something or I had time to think about. I hadn't been like Mother or Father, I wasn't checking my posture for slouching, I was feeling free. Something I had dared to do and was willing to go back to how it all was. For I did not want to but it seemed easier, safer, perhaps even less stressful. My mind no longer pondered on the smaller stuff, the dewy grass, the hazy atmosphere, the shine of the sun, my mind circulated the meaningful but it became harder and harder to notice the meaningful once it felt like it had disappeared.

I wandered back up the garden, letting my toes brush the strands of grass that overgrew its welcome onto the stepping stone. Carrying my shoes in my hands, blisters covered the backs of my ankles, not baring to stand or think of any other thing that made my mind take its concentration away from the open sore.

I noticed Father sat at the piano, smoke flooding from his cigarette, memories of Alexander pouring back out to me. His back was turned but one could tell he was mangled up with work and Alexander himself.
Not a single word from him, not after that letter, that letter I kept in my room and read every night. I was never tired of it. Every time reading it was like reading it for the first time, butterflies in my chest was more suitable than the sickness in my stomach.
I pointed my toes towards the wooden flooring of the insides, tip toeing almost. However I wanted him to hear me, I wanted him to ask me what was wrong, I wanted him to pay attention to me other than the work of Alexander. Instead, his eyes glanced at me; that's it, nothing more, nothing less. My mouth dropped slightly, willing to let something come out and stop him from his studies but what would I of said? I shut my mouth after a second of thought, nothing coming to mind and I couldn't think which had been more embarrassing; saying something rather selfish or not saying anything at all.