Cevic

Chapter 8

“Most of the time, the stuff that we do are the stuff that we think others will like us doing. That’s pure shit, because they don’t live your life for you.”

 

 

 

 

Expectations

 

Musing over the wash of memory I had in the library like a dream, I sat in the car with the borrowed books on my laps as Rezia started the ignition. The car shuddered, groaned and belched.

“You have to at least pretend that you care. You can’t dress in the same clothes that you were dressed in when you met her in school today,” said Rezia, giving me another look as she drove off. “And you can’t be late. Boys who are late on dates are very undesirable.”

 “Humans expect the oddest of things,” I mumbled, leaning my head against the seat.

Rezia gave me a slight sideway glance. “You know, you can draw there.”

 “Huh?” I was still in a daze from the flood of too-vivid flashbacks in my dreams.

 “Try drawing with your finger on the window.” Her voice sounded tight, like she had sensed my melancholy thoughts and depression, and she wanted to pull me out of it.

  Just to appease her, I straightened from the leaning position, and pressed my finger against the numbing cold windscreen. When I lifted my finger, there was a dot the size of my finger on the window.

  “Whoa, that’s cool.” I let out a small, tired but excited laugh. “How does that work?” I asked eagerly, filling the small window with doodles with my finger.

  “It happens because of the temperature difference between the inside of the car and the outside,” explained Rezia, her voice softening. “We’ve turned on the heater, and outside is freezing. So the frost formed on the inside of the window.”

  Vandôf Decus King Decus

  Illiôs Isha Princess Isha

“W-wait,” said Rezia sharply, glancing at my doodles. “Did you write Cevica on the window?”

 “Why not? People think I can speak Icelandic anyways,” I said with a shrug.

 “Erase it!” hissed Rezia. “Are you going to display our language on the window like that?”

 “Fine,” I exhaled, slowly getting tired of all the secrecy and lying. “How do I erase it?”

 “Rub it, dummy!”

One moment I was mi iës, the next moment silly, and then dummy. Great.

 Rezia sighed, the sound piercing through my heart. She missed her family and friends as much as I did. It wasn’t fair for me to keep being selfishly focusing on only my feelings.

  To change the subject, I said, “You said we’re going to experiment with human food. What’s the first?”

 “The simplest of all.” Rezia dug out something from her half-unzipped handbag and handed it over to me, her eyes still glued to the road. “Granola bar. This smells less like synthetic food materials or chemical. It’s ninety-five percent natural.”

 “The other five percent?”

Rezia shrugged. “Stuff.”

  Without bothering to conceal my doubt, I ripped open the crackling plastic package, to reveal literally a rectangular bar, all packed with many types of food. I didn’t recognize them visually, so I inhaled the scent, picking the ingredients up. I couldn’t name them- I was still unfamiliar with human food except sandwich and apple, which were respectively always staples of Patricia and Rezia’s lunch- but I knew there were some nature-grown stuff crammed inside.