The Wings Of A Caged Bird | First Draft

chapter 45: the midnight cinema hall

I see a hand moving in front of my face and snap out of my thoughts.

I blink at July, who is walking alongside me. He checks the little piece of paper with the map to the motel as he says, "Sweetheart, it's really not good to walk on the road while being spaced out. I know you have a lot to think about, but first, let's find this motel and settle do . . ."

But I have already stopped walking. He stops a bit ahead of me, then turns around, giving me a questioning look.

"Cedar?"

"July, I-" I desperately search for the right words to express just how I am feeling right now. But it's complicated, and in the end, the only thing I manage is, "I can't seem to accept this."

July crosses his arms and takes a step towards me. "Cedar, aunt Sayra wasn't in her right state of mind, you know that right? You know people are not themselves in times like this."

I shake my head. "Even if she was in her right state of mind . . . she still would have doubted me, wouldn't she? That's what I can't accept. I'm sure the thought has passed her head several times. After all, no matter how much love she showed me, at the end of the day, I'm not family. I'm an outsider." My heart sinks as I say this.

"Cedar, why are you thinking like this? They have treated you like their own son. Did you forget everything? She even doubted her own son before she doubted you."

"That's not the same. Aris is a kid. She thought he did it to help grandpa. But she thought I did it 'cause I'm a- a thief." I press my lips together, my ears again starting to burn.

July takes my hand. "Cedar . . ."

"I just- this is effecting me more than I thought. July, if it was my own mother she would never think I would steal something from her."

"Of course. That's because she's your mother, she knows you. Aunt Sayra is not . . . your mother."

"Exactly," I whisper, looking at the ground.

"Cedar?" He frowns, clearly unable to figure out what exactly I'm talking about. "Exactly what were you expecting?"

I let out a deep exhale and rub my temples. "I don't know, maybe I just . . . unknowingly created some kind of illusion in my head of this- like, this perfect family. A family I'm part of as well. A family that is full of love and laughter and happiness, where my heart feels at ease. Where . . . I'm loved."

Without a doubt, I have received more love and warmth from this family in a few days than I did from my own family in my whole life. And there was no fakeness, no ulterior motives, no forced politeness within that love—this really is just how they are. Especially aunt Sayra. The soft, affectionate voice she talked to me with, the way she ruffled my hair, the way she praised every little thing I did, cooked my favourite foods. All of that, perhaps, contributed to me subconsciously perceiving her as a mother figure to me. Because my own mother never managed to express her love to me in such obvious, open ways.

I also think that, this same thing might have happened to me way before, except with Dawn's family. I did spend a lot of time with them, and they too made me feel like their other son. Maybe the reason why I didn't feel this way back then, was because Dawn was there to somehow singlehandedly fill in every single gap in my life. How can I ever blame myself for growing an excessive dependency on him?

I glance at July, who finally seems to understand what I've been trying to say. Shaking my head again, I continue, "I don't know why I thought that way, because no family is perfect. I didn't even realize that I was naturally starting to include myself in the picture of their family, even though I don't belong there. I never will. That's just how it works. I . . . I just didn't realize it this way before."