CORNELIA

LilAc

Cicadas welcomed the summer breeze which teased her honey-brown hair, tickling her cheeks, and often got stuck on her lipgloss. Cornelia tucks a loose strand behind her ear as she hums along with the indie song blasting from her speakers. There she laid; sprawled on green dewy grass propped up on her elbows, nose deep in a book. Her lilac halter top was dotted with white lilies, similar to the lilies she had tucked into the pockets of her high waisted brown shorts. Her bare feet moved in tune with the beat as she nodded in agreement with the author underlining words that struck her attention. I wonder why she chose those particular words or sentences, maybe she wanted to look it up later or maybe she liked the quote or maybe she wanted to write something with that feathery pen she has been twirling for so long. I notice her gaze shift and hide behind the curtain as she whips her head behind, fixing her gaze on the spot I had occupied moments ago. Her pastel nails, adjust the round wired glasses as she springs to her feet, her eyes still fixed on the spot. She swayed as she threw on her flip-flops which had huge daisies by the toe; gradually she made her way to the garden table, laden with a pitcher of orange juice, scanning her surroundings she takes a swig from the jar, spilling it on the front of her dress; giggling to herself while she attempted to wipe the stains, she makes her way to the wooden gate waving at the house while disappearing into the narrow alley. I wonder if she noticed me, well, if she did, it's not like I'm doing anything wrong; she was in my lawn, helping herself to the leftover orange juice! I wonder why she decided that it was a good idea to trespass on a stranger's lawn. 

Still thinking about her multi-colored pastel nails, I plop down on the bed, the day seemed too happy to be wasted and the soft summer sun demanded me to get out into the town. Lazily I pack my bag with my assignments and head out to the nearest café on my bicycle. This town is quaint with antique buildings, strange book shops, and cafes which seem right out of a 50s movie. Dad's idea of a peaceful summer was spending it in our family's villa while finding inspiration for his book, mum, on the other hand, is out and about learning about the history of this place. This is the first time all our schedules aligned to take a trip here. I wanted to explore a city but my folks wanted a break from the concrete jungle.

 I struggle to find the café I visited with my parents on my first day here. I've been here for a week and this is the first time I'm stepping out on my own. I wish there were a mall or two for me to go shop at. I keep mulling over these thoughts and find myself in front of a stationery store. I pull out my phone, to look up the nearest cafes while leaning against the cycle. I feel a tickle on my neck, I look up into a pair of brown eyes with cat winged eyeliner. An eyebrow lifts up, blushing. I quickly turn away. "Are you searching for cafes?" the voice asks and I meekly look up at the browed eyed girl with a button nose and brown lipstick. "You uh you drank my orange juice," I say hotly. "It was yummy!" she beams at me. Confused I peer into her oval face framed with bangs and glasses perched on top of her head. "Are you from here? can you guide me to the nearest café?" I blurt out and watch her grin widen. "I'm Cornelia at your service senorita" she grabs hold of the handlebar and motions me to follow her. We walk around cobbled streets decorated with bougainvilleas and wild roses. "can you take a picture of me against these beautiful flowers?" she asked me while positioning herself against the flowers. I click a few pictures on my phone and after the 45874th picture she beams a satisfied smile and pushes my backpack leading me forward. With my heart racing faster than my feet I struggle to move while holding the cycle. We reach the café, a different one, and make our way indoors. She skips towards the waitress while I plop down in the booth and throw my bag into place. I watch her making her way towards me, carrying a large tray filled with steaming mugs and a cake. I look up at her quizzically, annoyed that she had ordered for me. "Hi. These are famous here and thought you might want to try them out. Don't worry if you hate them. I'll eat the entire thing." she settles herself into the seat opposite to mine. "thanks" I say under my breath and poke at the yellowcake which looked like it went through a sugar storm. She picks up the cake and takes a huge bite, decorating her face with sugar crystals. With a full mouth, she asked "what ifs your nahame"

"Azula"

"hi, Azula. I'm Cornilia"

"you said that already"

"I love your hat! I didn't say that, did I ?"

"no. uh, thanks."

She motions me to eat the cake and I hesitantly poke it with the fork. I hate cakes and here I am struggling to voice my opinion. She takes my hesitation for politeness, grabs the fork from my hand, and proceeds to feed me a piece. " aaa" she says animatedly and I like the good girl that I am open wide and eat the lemony sugary cake. "Do you love it?" she asked with sparkly eyes "no. I don't like cakes, sorry. But thank you" I reply, "good for me then! I don't have to share!" she says with a devilish smile and continues eating the cake. I sigh and take a sip of the coffee, the mocha awakens my spirit. I close my eyes and relish the coffee. We sit there wordlessly while I drank the second coffee and she dug into her cake. Our eyes keep meeting and I instantly look away or look down into the coffee. "Do you have a pen?" she asks. I look up at her hands filled with pens of all colors and types. she was scribbling on the tissue but the pens stopped writing after she drew a line. She tucked back the pens into her pockets one by one testing each for ink. "Here you go" I offer her my pen. With a childlike smile, she grabs my pens and begins to doodle on the tissue. I stare at her curiously wondering why she was sitting beside me, why she carried empty pens, why she decided to order for me. Halfway through my assignments, I watch her asking the waitress for another pen. I raise an eyebrow at her and she merely shrugs. We continue to work in silence, me on my assignment, and she on her art. "This is for you" she extends 7 tissues of doodles, I take them without really looking at them and tuck them between the pages of my book. "thank you," I say with surprise 

"you eat lunch?"

"uh yes."

"do you want to have lunch with me?"

"oh? I'm sorry, I have to be at home... why don't you join me ?"

"no thank you," she said as she got up, dusted her shorts, patted my shoulders, and walked out of the café. I gawked after her and followed her with my eyes as she made her way past the narrow alley away. I continued with my work while my thoughts were swirling around Cornelia. I pull out the tissues and admire the art. One had a picture of a girl wearing a shirt and a hat, it looked like her pens ran out of color while she colored the shirt, was this me? oh my god! She was drawing me!! I blush and pull the next tissue, it had a basket of flowers, the next one had the cake we just had, the one after that had the coffee, one a bicycle, another had chunky sneakers like the one I was wearing, one had a lawn with a swing and the final one said CORNELIA in flowery cursive. I smiled to myself, mentally making a note to tell her that her work is amazing. I gather my things and make way to the counter still flattered by the art. I pull out some cash while the lady at the counter informs me that my bill was already paid for. Annoyed at Cornelia for not asking me before paying up, I stomp out of the café and get on my cycle. I cycle around the city, lost in her thoughts, and make my way home.

* That is the bougainvillea.