"There's one last thing I'll have to do here, today, and then I'm done with this place, again."
Matilda had finished washing her face in the lake. Put her black band shirt back on. I saw the fine patterns, neatly arranged and sewn onto the tops of her, yet again black, bra.
Even though I tried not to.
She smiled. And her dimples called me a pervert in all languages.
"Aren't you gonna...?"
She tilted her head towards the water. Glistening in double standards.
I wasn't necessarily self-conscious. It was more like I never really cared.
But on that day, walking towards the lake, I felt horrified.
My shirt felt like a heavy boulder. I couldn't get it off, no matter how.
So I kept walking.
Until my soles started to give up and let floods onto my toes.
I started heaving my shirt upwards. And looked down towards the water.
A helpful angle.
It didn't show how incredibly thin and unmuscular I was.
Why did that matter now?
It had never mattered before.
It still helped.
Soon after, my chest smelled like the sea and we were in the Fiat Panda, racing towards it.
-
Next to the sandy beach was a hill, trampled over, elevated patches of green.
Somewhere on its middle was a tree.
Matilda sat herself underneath.
And started watching the waves roll in.
I sent my mom the phone number of Matilda's mom and pictures our surroundings. The bright water. The high up sun. A lonely, red ship. Kids splashing water in each other's faces. The paper-thin leaves. Shadows cast in all directions.
Because it didn't seem like Matilda would start a conversation any time soon, I joined her with the first of twelve mythology books in my hand.
After a while, she asked what I read about.
Told me it seemed like I was still on the same pages as yesterday.
And I was.
"I'm reading about Athene again. Did you know she gave the blood of Medusa to Asclepius?"
"Asclepius?"
"Yeah..., he was one of the many children of Apollo. The neon signs above apothecaries, like the staff with the snake, was his."
"Oh yeah, that..., what's so interesting about him?"
"That a godly being was..., infested by..., sort of filthy blood. And profited off it. He was able to give life because of it. He didn't suffer from there being something bad within him. Life sprouted because he turned his evil parts into good."
"Mythology does have its contradictory events."
"I guess so. I don't know why I'm so fascinated by this one."
That was a lie. The aftertaste of the words I used reeked of poison.
"Oh!", said Matilda, lifted herself up, sat on her legs, facing me now.
She put her hair behind her ears.
I could finally identify the shape of her eyes.
They were the ones of an owl.
YOU ARE READING
What do the stars feel when they look at Us?
Teen FictionBen starts to care. About you. About people. About his girlfriend. About feelings and being a person. Growing up. But it's difficult. Seemingly, especially, for him. And he's failing. Miserably. So he's starting to look for answers in the stars. Mos...
