A Year of Fragile Hearts

Chapter 2 | Save me, O' feared knight!

"Wrong, Porch. Just, wrong." I say after recovering from my short trance of thoughts. "I actually believe it is the best thing for him to do. Setting up some attachments will undoubtedly develop the immensely necessary sense of responsibilty in this dork's bones." Molly comments, and although her words are funnily sarcastic, I'm still disappointed in the fact that she's not helping me in my case of refusing the whole scenario of Porch working at the same place I am.

Porch mutters something under his breath about him not being a dork, though I barely pay attention to it as I look over at Ward, who looks occupied in his own thoughts. He catches my eyes and almost immediately understands my unspoken request. "We should get going." he says as he stands up from his place, me following his steps a bit too hurriedly to be polite. "It was nice having you here. Be sure to come by again!" she says as she walks us to the door. We shake her outstreched hand when we're out the door then go ahead home.

Twelve minutes later we're going up the stairs of the porch to my house, serenity thickening the air comfortably between us. I turn the door knob, seeing as the lights of our living room are on, meaning my family is in there. Just as I am about to say bye to Ward, who lives a few blocks away from me, he asks me a question.

"Why are you so mad about having Porch working at the same area as ours?"

A breeze, cold and chilly, rushes towards us, tangling my hair in the process. There's a look of curiosity in Ward's eyes as he looks down at me and his blonde hair looks darker under the dim light of the little flower-pots-filled porch of ours. He has a distinct sort of beauty to his face. It isn't something I've seen on other boys, and his kindness and never-ending sincerity add a touch of heaven to the boy standing before me.

"He gets on my nerves."

"Do you believe he's going to change the norms there?"

I don't reply at first, but Ward knows me all too well to not know why. "You do," he says. "And you're afraid of that change."

I still don't reply, finding the way he reads me so precisely mesmerisingly friendly of him.

"Change isn't always danger, Mabelle. It's okay to be afraid of it, but not at all wise to try and prevent it. Better things await out of our comfort zones."

He gives me a tiny salute, turns around and walks away into the darkness of the next block, and I can't help but repeat his words in my mind as I watch his figure fade away into the far distance of houses lit by a few streetlights.

✾✾✾

The smell of pancakes fills my nose, and I roll in bed with a glad sigh. I lay there, half of my body covered with a lightweight summer bedspread in a light shade of peach. A sight of painted angels in light fern cloths, adorened with flowers and roses and leaves meets my eyes, and it sends faith down my spine and calmness in my heart and mind.

I scramble out of the bed after a few minutes of complete silence and head to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later I get out, dressed in jeans shorts and a sea green t-shirt. My hair smells of lavender and so does my body. I decide to let my hair dry on its own and settle with shaking it a bit so it could curl.

At the kitchen table, a plate of pancakes awaits for me to savour it as well as maple and chocolate syrups and a tall glass of milk. But before I sit down to have my breakfast, I walk towards the counter in the living room that is just across the kitchen, where a picture frame stands still, holding a smile I yearn to see again in real life.

"Morning." I whisper softly, tracing my index finger along the glass of it. Not hearing a reply still hurts even after two years, but the hope within me that keeps flaming up like a burning raging fire to hear that voice never ceases to escape me. I bring the picture frame to my lips and place a soft kiss upon it, then I put it back down where it was and head to the kitchen for my breakfast feast.