Sinister [Jason McCann]

Fourty

Jason’s POV --

 

I said her name with a ghostly tune. My face must have lost all it’s color and my eyes would begin losing the redness once obtained by the intoxication of marijuana. A silence took place after my simple statement; or question if anyone were to interpret it in that manner. The silence wasn’t so much as awkward as it was perplexicating. The smile on her face spread from one cheek to the other and I couldn’t come to comprehend how beautiful her cheekbones appeared with a smiled carved around it.

 

“Miss me?” She barely laughed, it was more of a giggle and as she narrowed her eyes to stare at my chest, I find her taking in a deep breath. From what I could understand, we both must be having a hard time allowing our eyes to shed the truth.

 

I swallow down and feel the joint wasting away in the tips of my fingers. Taking a light step aside, Bryn crosses the threshold and our eye contact is more divine than nature. We had so many questions but a fear unrecognizable held our tongues in space. I had so much to say but no way of forming it all into an English we’d both be able to understand. The words were compiling over one another and I disliked the idea of choking on my words in front of someone as important as Bryn. The minute our eye contact is broken, I felt a rush of air enter my lungs and breathing came easier. She leads herself beyond the entrance and past the dining room; along with the kitchen. Blinking, I take the final drag of my joint until it dies out and the remains are tossed out onto the front porch. As I’m exhaling, I shut the door and begin following after, what I’m still trying to persuade myself to believe is, a ghost.

 

“You always had a fancy taste in houses.” She speaks abruptly and looks over her shoulder to meet my eyes. “You adore your space.”

 

This would have been the perfect opportunity to laugh and engage in further, interesting, conversation but my wind pipes closed in dangerously. Perhaps, I merely imagined that speaking was inevitable because my state wasn’t as sober as others would expect it to be. In the living room, Bryn’s all-seeing eyes led her towards the mantle on the far right. All--with an exception of one--of my bongs were gone and their places on the mantle left stationary marks. Bryn traced her finger over the mantle and then twisted her body to face me, a smile still decorating her face.

 

“Five months.” She let out a tired sigh with a hint of victory. “I didn’t think so much would change in that time.”

 

“You’d be surprised.” I looked over at anything opposite of the direction Bryn stood in. Speaking gave me a sense of the reality my high wouldn’t permit to settle for.

 

“I am, actually.” She steps away from the mantle, eyes either fixed on me or anything else intriguing. Unlike Lea, she wouldn’t find much fascination in here though, she wasn’t a fan of seeing beyond the known. “I mean, look at you!”

 

I heard her boots tapping against the ground before noticing her voice as she closed the space between us. Her hands grab my shoulders and in an attempt to shake me out of my state of shock, she laughs in pure disbelief. My eyes travel from the walls to the floor, ultimately rising and catching Bryn’s eyes on the tattoos covering a great mass of my body. From my shoulders, she lingers her soft hands down my arms and grasps my wrist when she reaches that point.