I didn’t really know what to say. What were you supposed to say when someone catches you making a mess in their front lawn, tears running down your face? Nothing, I guess. That’s what I did.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
He stepped out onto the porch, slowly tiptoeing in my direction, “Hello? Can you hear me?”
I quickly nodded and got my act together, stuttering, “Y-y-yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” I pushed my sweater sleeves back and bent down to pick up the remnants of the disaster. My hands were shaking a bit from the cold.
A voice spoke from above me, “Don’t worry about it.”
I straightened up again and found my eyes directly across from another.
“Do you want to come inside, for some tea maybe? Is that okay?”
“I’d like that,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He started back towards the house, me in tow. His house was warm and smelled like home made soup. In the front foyer alone, there was an abundance of family photos and scented candles. It looked like a nice home.
Slipping off our shoes, I followed him into the kitchen where he put on the kettle. I looked around while he was fiddling with the mugs and sugar. There was one picture that hung next to the pantry and it caught my attention.
“Is this your band?” I asked, pointing to the picture of him behind a drum kit with three other guys.
He turned on his heel and glanced at the framed photo, “Yeah, that’s us at a ‘Battle of the Bands’ contest last year,” he pivoted back around, “not that I would call it my band.”
Not that I would know how to respond to that, so I shrugged and found a seat at the island in the kitchen. Once the tea was poured, he took the seat next to me.
“So, let’s start with names,” he cleared his throat, “I’m Ashton.”
“I’m Cleo.”
“Well, Cleo, I’m not going to ask you about the flowers-”
“Thank you,” I spit out, in pure relief.
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re welcome.”
We sat in the silence until our mugs were dry and minds were empty and I felt like an explanation was due.
“I-I broke up with my boyfriend tonight, that’s why the flowers were in your lawn, I couldn’t take them home.”
“You don’t have to-”
“No, it’s okay,” I sighed, “it’s over now anyways. Turns out he never actually felt the same way as I did. Kind of the biggest waste of time, ever.” I laughed, trying to make him not feel so bad for me.
I didn’t think it worked. Ashton’s forehead was all crinkled as he stared a hole into the counter.
“Are you okay now?” he asked, quietly.
I nodded once more as I pushed my mug away from me.
“I better go then, I don’t want to take up any more of your time,” I said and got out of my chair.
“No, you don’t have to go,” he followed me as I walked down the hallway to the door.
“Really, I’m okay. Thanks for everything, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“You won’t be, it’s fine,” he pleaded.
I wasn’t in the mood for pleading.
“I’m sorry, but I need some time to think.” He sighed and took a step back, giving up his protest.
Back through the door I went, the bitter cold biting at my cheeks and licking my chest. I had to be careful I didn’t slip down the front steps as it had frozen over from the melted snow. Gosh, I hated Canadian Novembers.
I figured I had a lot of explaining to do to my mum, seeing as I was home early. Pretty much the opposite problem of any teenage ever, except me. I was expected to be home late after asking for permission like I always was. Coming up with the excuse is the hard part.
Just as I was pondering the idea of my ex getting a raging nosebleed and him throwing me out to preserve my innocence, I heard Ashton call out again.
“Cleo! CLEO!”
By this point I was only at the end of driveway, so I turned and saw Ashton standing in the doorframe.
“What do you need?” I shouted back.
“Can I at least get your number? To, you know, check up on you.”
He looked desperate, like he wasn’t ready to let me go. And to be honest, I didn’t want to let him go either. It was actually more like I wanted to cling to him like he was the end of a rope that was suspending me over a cliff because he was the only person in months to truly care about me and I needed that so badly. Badly enough I was willing to let some strange boy be the only saving grace in my life, because he was the only thing I was holding onto, otherwise it was down into the black abyss I go. And what else was I to do than to cling to the rope.
Without a word, I trudged back to where he was standing.
“Do you have a pen?”
“Right here,” he shoved a Sharpie in front of my face. Where he got it from? I have no idea.
I grabbed his hand and wrote, very neatly, the digits of my phone number.
“I’ll call you in the morning, then.”
I smiled, “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
And that’s all I heard of Ashton until, well of course, the next morning.
