Ocean full of Secrets

Part I_12

27th of February 2014

The raindrops are hammering against my window, asking me to let them in, but I won't. I won't let anyone in anymore ever again. It's a mistake. You can't trust anyone. Friends betray you, family ignores you and everyone withholds information from you without which you might easily go mad, if I am not already. Last night I dreamt of my cousin Kevin, the one I saw for the first time at my grandma's funeral. I can't quite remember what I dreamed. All I do remember is that terrified look on his face. Something, though I don't know what, terrible must've happened since I've never seen him emotional like that. Not in real life anyways. He was close to tears.

The second thing I remember is my aunt Alex screaming "My Baby, my Baby!" over and over again while tears were streaming down her face. The tears were getting more and more and slowly started to form a river, drowning everything she ever held dear, from their house, which was only a few minutes walkway from ours, to Kevin's future, his rugby career and his college scholarship. Everything was gone.

The only thing left was an ocean created out of her tears. No past, no present, no future. Everything was drowned in saltwater.
However this was only a very small part of my dream and chances are I forgot the most crucial parts of it. As you might've noticed, my memory is not to be counted on these days.

Anyways, the reason I am telling you this is, what if it was me? What if I'm the reason that his future is ruined? Maybe this dream was trying to tell me what happened that night? Maybe it wanted to tell me what I did, but of course the part of what I actually did slipped my mind, again. All I saw were the consequences of my doings.

Now, since this is literally the first thing that I remembered, be it true or not, I wrote it on a post-it the moment I got out of bed. I now have a single yellow piece of paper on a wall that once used to be covered in old Polaroid photos, drawings and quotes. And even though it was my own choice to get rid of the old decorations, it doesn't seem like a very fair exchange to me. It looks lonely and depressing, the way it stares at me, judgingly, blaming me for not trying hard enough to find some friends for it. And I hope I can, soon, for both of our sakes.

Still, I can't help but wonder about Kevin and about what is going on with him. But can't just call him. Not only because I don't have his number, but also because we practically never talk. Even though they live pretty close to us ever since they moved back from Ireland, we rarely have contact at all. Before my mother died Alex used to invite us to dinner occasionally, but even then Kevin always got along better with Oliver. The only time I was ever alone with him was when I had to help him study for his Advanced Highers. His strength doesn't really lie in his brain but more in running with an oddly shaped ball and push other people to the ground, or whatever playing Rugby involves. But now that he's at university I guess his studying problems are over, at least he hasn't asked me to help him any more.

Anyways, I don't think just calling and asking if I happened to ruin his future and make his mother cry like a baby recently is the best approach. I could, however, ask Neil if we could invite them over to dinner this weekend or sometime and then I could see for myself. Hang on. I'll call him quickly. Luckily he doesn't have a clue when I'm supposed to be in school longer and when not.

That's odd. Or not, considering it doesn't differ a lot from the scenario I made up in my mind. So I called Neil and told him about my idea and first there was no response, only silence. For so long I started to think the connection was lost. But then he cleared his throat and said,

"I don't think that's a very good idea. They're pretty ... busy, lately. I don't think we should bother them with short-term dinner invitations."

Since this explanation obviously wasn't very satisfying I kept inquiring more deeply. But it didn't get better.

"Haven't you heard? They're renovating ... their living room. Plus Scott (Kevin's stepfather) has a lot going on at work so Alex has to handle it all on her own. And Kevin isn't being very helpful either. I mean, his time is divided between playing Rugby and being unable to cope with his studies. You know how school has always been his weak spot, right?"

"Well, I could help him study then, couldn't I? I mean I did it before and it helped."

After that there was another really suspicious silence an then he said,

"Well, don't you think that would seem a bit patronising? If he doesn't even ask you for help and you just expect him to need it, I mean."

"But that's not how I meant it at all. I just wanted to help. Plus, you implied the exact same thing."

"I know, I'm sorry. I know you meant well. It's just ... I don't think this is the right time, okay? Maybe some other weekend. In spring sometime, then we could have a Barbeque in the garden. How does that sound?"

Then he continued to tell me about some new garden furniture he was thinking about buying, but I already wasn't listening anymore. Everything he said only confirmed all of my suspicions. Now I just have to find out more details. I could go and visit Liz again, that would practically lead me past aunt Alex's house.
The rain got heavier now so I might not go running anymore after all. Don't get me wrong, I love rain.

I love the smell of the air before rain, I love the sensation of rain on my skin, I love the sight of rain washing away all the pain of yesterday and leaving the whole world pure and clean, I love the sound of raindrops hammering against my window, just as they are doing right now, and I love the their taste when I catch them on my tongue. I love rain. In every possible sense.

Still, I think today I'll settle for its sound, a hot cup of tea and a good book. "Maya's notebook" to be exact. I really love Isabel Allende's writing. It's so simple and sophisticated at the same time. It makes me feel as if I was right there, in those magical and fascinating worlds that are so different from ours but still make me feel the exact same emotions, only in a more colourful, decorative and wonderful kind of way.

But I've noticed that I'm always a lot more interested in Maya's past than in the present events. And I guess I am like that in real life too. I love hearing about people's past and about what happened to make them the people they are now. I know I shouldn't judge people by who they used to be and what they used to be like. And I'm trying not to. I really am. Because, as a great author once said,

"We can't chose where we come from, but we can chose where we go from there".

And I like to think that I'm only interested in their past for psychological purposes but that I still see them as the people they are today and not as a mess of past mistakes and screw-ups. However, I have to agree with Freud in this case as well. Despite trying not to judge people by past events, I still support the opinion that these events have a great impact on their later life and the person that is standing in front of me now. (Especially if they happened to take place in the person's childhood.) But I'm always open to other opinions.

I got off topic again. All I wanted to say was that I will devote myself to my books now and therefore have to stop. Good-Bye.

Yours,
Cassie