We Who Are Jaded

Chapter Twenty Six

Bollocks. 

Kieran's arms loosened around me, his face darkening and walls building. This was not good. 

"I should be going. Nice seeing you Mrs Evans," Kieran said flatly. I gripped his arm, pleading he didn't leave without explanation, without assurance. 

"Kieran it means nothing," I pleaded. His face didn't change to show anything of the understanding I had presumptuously hoped for.  

"I'll see you later," he muttered before turning and fleeing down the stairs. My accusing glare turned on Mum.

"Perhaps he had an appointment or something?" Mum shrugged, ignorant to the trouble she had caused. I stomped into the flat, banged the door shut and snatched my letter from her hand. "So who's it from anyway?" 

As thought it was her business. 

"It's from Tom," I grunted. I turned around just in time to see the realisation cross her face, the connection that would have been just peachy moments ago. 

"Yeah, exactly." I slammed my bedroom door leaving Mum looking like she was catching flies.

If Kieran wasn't going to go waltzing into Anya's arms before, he was now. 

Can you blame him, Evans?

I threw my bag into the floor and kicked off my trainers. I flung myself on my bed, the letter gripped in my hand. I wanted to crush it until it turned to dust, as though it had never existed. Agitated, I spun the envelope in my fingers, threading it in and out. 

How were his letters arriving so quickly? His letter had only just arrived and yet here was another encased in my hands. Surely he wasn't flying them over himself, it just wasn't feasible. What's more, I hadn't replied to the previous one yet – had I even intended to?

"Tom, Tom, Tom," I muttered. I drummed my fingers on top of my address and decided there was nothing for it. I'd have to open it sometime. I peeled back the envelope and unfolded the papers inside.

Dear Chris,

I'm sitting on the same park bench I was when I wrote you the first letter and still nothing has changed. In fact there is a teenage girl reading a book (one I'm sure I've seen you reading before). Her hair is golden and her eyes are a startling green – your startling green. You'd think it was you from a distance but the nose and the curve of her lip is all wrong. 

I sound obsessive...gross even. 

Callie forced me to go and start studying in the college library when I'm not in the law summer class she finally convinced me to to go to. It's OK and the campus is awesome but I feel out of place. The boys are friendly enough, inviting me to eat lunch with them and play American football. The banter is great for taking your mind off of things but apart from that I'm left with bruises and semi-cracked ribs. 

As for the girls, they're nothing special. They drool over my accent and get me to say stupid things just so they can giggle and drool some more. 

The summer classes are OK. The homework piles up faster than you'd think possible and the teachers are more prehistoric than dinosaurs. I feel like I'm filling out a prison sentence and not preparing for my future.

I know there could be a possibility my last letter could have gotten lost in the mail but why didn't you reply to my last letter if you did receive it? I guess I'm not sure, now I think about it, how long these messages take to cross the see but even a phone call, hearing your voice would maybe not make this so hard.