Looking For You

Chapter 9 - Thoughts

Chapter 9 - Thoughts

After an hour of laughing, smiling, talking and staring, Christian and I decided to leave since he had somewhere to go. I didn’t ask where he had to go because I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy, but also because I kind of had a feeling of where he was headed to — Mrs. Bloomsfield’s office. We walked down the halls together, stopping at my dorm where we parted ways, me going inside my dorm, and him heading to the right of my dorm. That’s the way to Mrs. Bloomsfield’s office, I remind myself. 

When I close the door quietly, silence fills the space. Tibby isn’t home and I sigh, feeling lonely now. I guess I do like the silence every now and again, but when I’m constantly around it, I sometimes get bored of it, and long for a close friend to have girly chats and hyena-sounding laughs with. I miss those days.

I head over to my desk, where Christian’s letter is tucked underneath my laptop. I take it out from under and open it again, reading over bits and pieces of the letter that confuse me. If Christian is going to Mrs. Bloomsfield’s office now, then maybe he might come out with another letter. A new one. A letter that would hold recent information about his mom. But, am I that cruel to snoop through other people’s stuff and not tell Christian about it?

I would have to find out anyway, I guess.

Shoving the paper back under my laptop, I grab my keys and head out the door, locking it behind me as silently as I can. The halls are quiet at this time of day, but they would be getting noisier since it’s a Friday night and people would be heading out to frat parties. I’ve never actually considered a frat party, but they sound fun. But stories come back around and the things I’ve heard aren’t that great. Maybe I should think twice next time…

Tip-toeing through the deserted hallways, I drag my fingertips along the walls, breathing quietly as I near the principal’s office. The door comes into my view and I press my shoulder against the lockers where I slide past them, dropping down to my hands and knees a couple of metres before the door.

I hear voices from the inside, sounding deep and stressed out. My ear presses against the cold door, making chills go down my spine.

“No, mom, I will never forget you. I just don’t think I’m ready to see you.”

Christian’s voice echoes through the door, creating a vibrating effect from my perspective. No voices reply back, obviously Christian talking to his mom on the phone. His responses are negative, making me feel sorry for his mom, being sick in hospital and not being able to see her son. Why won’t Christian see her? Wouldn’t every child see their dying mother in hospital?

“Because mom, I just don’t want to…” His voice becomes muffled, almost sounding like cries being choked up. My heart melts as I hear the small whimpers escape his lips, drowning in my own guilt for even eavesdropping for the second time.

“I’m just scared… scared that you’ll say something,” his voice has changed, become softer and quieter, sounding defeated from the pain that puts him down, “something that you’ve wanted to tell me for a while now.”

I gasp, getting new information just by listening to a phone call. My eyes widen at the news; his mom has something to tell Christian that she hasn’t said for a while. If it could scare him, then something is well and truly behind those eyes that look like they’re living a happy and free life. It’s like he’s trapped from being who he truly is, because his past is chasing him everywhere he runs. It’s actually scaring me right now.