Cheers

Part Three

The next day, I got up early, around seven. I messaged Raven and asked when her dad would go to work. She replied roughly an hour and a half later, at 8:34. She told me that her dad went to work every day at eight and that she slept until 8:30 so he'd leave before she got up.

She sent me the address and I made my way over there. It was a small house, and it looked like it belonged in the country. It was - or appeared to be - a wooden house, with a squeaky screen door and a very rustic country-like vibe to it, that opened up to a dirt road. But it matched every other house on the street, so it didn't look out of place.

I walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell. Raven answered and led me into a house that smelled strongly of cigarettes. She had the same white rose, pinning her hair back and resting on her ear. I remember the first thing she noticed was the brace on my hand. She said she was glad that I went to get it checked out, and she didn't expect me to go. I told her that it was just a fracture, and nothing to be worried about. She said that she'd take my word for it, and asked if I wanted breakfast or a snack or something. I lied to her, saying that I already ate.

That's another thing nobody knows about me. Aside from my dad's terrible temper, I got one more thing from him - his terrible mental health. I have an eating disorder, according to a psychiatrist that only saw me twice. I don't remember the name of it, but something about I have a hard time eating because of the pressure that I put on myself and my self-image and how other people see me? Something like that. I say it's bullshit. She even tried to prescribe medication for it. Some kind of pills. I didn't take a single one of them

I don't think I have an eating disorder. I just don't want to get out of shape by eating too much. I didn't give a damn about what people thought of me, I just value my physique. And I never made myself throw up or anything, I just have a light appetite. I always have so I don't see the problem.

Anyway, we spent the whole day talking. We talked about Meghan and Alex's divorce, about the car accident that Alex blames Meghan for, about how her studies prioritize over everything. She emphasized how strongly she resented her father's smoking habits, and at that very second, I made the decision to stop smoking, feeling immensely guilty about the pack of cigarettes in my pocket. Then we got to talking about my life. I told her about how my dad doesn't deserve the title of father, about our fights, and how I learned that I was illegitimate the day before. More than any normal person would share with a nine year old they just met.

Before we knew it, it was six pm and her dad would be getting home in a half-hour. I went back to the apartment just to be safe, with the promise to be back tomorrow at nine.

The rest of the week passed slowly, and I learned lots of things about her. I learned that she wore contacts to cover up heterochromia of one brown and one blue eye. I learned that she was ambidextrous, and could produce identical writing with both hands simultaneously. I learned that she had no friends at school because of her broken family and the fact that she was confined to a wheelchair, and while her teachers idolized her intelligence, they also looked down on her broken life.

She learned lots about me too. She learned that I could vibrate my eyes, and that I'd had a constant job since I was fourteen to pay for a dad that spent his days on the couch, and she learned that I classified my favorite food as whipped cream. I also told her that I didn't have school friends because of my general hatred for people.

She asked if I wanted to be her friend since we were both outcasts in different ways. At that moment, I saw for the first time the part of her that was desperate to be a kid. I don't think she even realized the look in her eyes when she asked me that. She almost looked ready to cry. As if she had gotten 'no' as an answer to that question one too many times.