Brisée (gmw) (slow updates)

2

DISGUST, COMPASSION, ENVY AND LUST,
they might seem unrelated to the un-scorched heart.

x   x   x   x

It was beginning to feel normal to have him roam around the house. He stayed quiet, helped around from time to time, he would watch space documentaries while drinking whiskey and cherry coke, smoke Winston Classics, and do crosswords while puffing on a joint.
It was exciting for me, I liked observing him. I wanted to hang onto him for as long as I could. My Mum's love life had a pattern; she would bring a man home, I'd see him around for a couple of days and then he'd leave.
He'd leave me to try and get Mum to calm down when she would lock herself in the bathroom threatening to kill herself.
I don't know which was worse; not being sure if Mum would live, or having this man treat her as if she was disposable.
I mostly didn't like the way that each time the front door closed, it sounded the same.

x   x   x   x

He was sitting on the old dark blue sofa rolling a joint. Without a word, I sat on the table in front of him and grabbed his crossword book. His body became tense and his dark eyebrows furrowed, I shrugged. His heavy gaze studying my every movement, each hair out of place, every other freckle, I couldn't focus. My hands were fidgeting, I could feel my heart beating in the back of my ear, the constant thump was making me cringe.
His sharp gaze went back to the paper filled with dried leaves, I couldn't help but admire the angle of his shoulders, the way his left eyebrow twitched when he was concentrating. He sighed loudly, his breath smelled of cigarettes, cherry coke and blackberries.
There was a small, interrupted sound coming from my lap. I had clumsily dropped my pen and had subconsciously started drawing. There wasn't a particular theme, or one main drawing ,it was a compilation of scribbles, writing.
It looked a mess. I started observing it from different angles, holding it closer then further from my face. A silent laugh drags me back to reality, to what was actually happening. I was sitting across the one, he would marry Mum. He'd already stayed longer than all of them, excluding my father. He would only have to stay two to three more years.

"Let's see it." He stated reaching for his book, I reluctantly handed it back. "This is quite good, Maya." He raised his eyebrows and pouts his lips slightly to acknowledge the scribbles and nonsense- my work.
He looked down at his joint and tucked in the roach, he then grabbed the end and pulled on the paper to tighten it and he started rolling.
He looked at me and moistened his thin lips along with some of his half-hazardly shaven facial hair. He then dragged his tongue slowly on the sticky side of the paper, as he was still eyeing me.
My throat felt like it was on fire, smoke was crawling its way up my teeth making it hard for me to keep coughs from escaping. My mouth was dry, my lips crumbling away.
He looked down at me, his joint between his thin lips before offering it to me. I accepted it and he placed it between my lips and he reached into his shirt pocket and took out a Zippo lighter that belonged to his uncle during the War in Vietnam. With a swift movement of his thumb a flame was made, my eyes widened in amazement and they stared at the joint being lit. A small laugh escaped his lips and he closed the lid on the flame with one brutal click.
I was trying to impress him; Mum wasn't there, it was my chance for him to see me as a person and not his girlfriend's badly combed daughter, so I took a very long drag of his almost pure joint and as much as I tried to prevent my dry coughs from erupting it was no use. Tears swelled and my left hand groped my chest, my mal-manicured nails digging into the soft untouched skin. My right hand was still holding the spliff, only with a little too much force. I was about to catch my breath again when I heard his low chuckle and large hand started to rub circles into my back while lightly petting it. He told me it was normal for a first timer and taught me how to smoke.
I spent most of my afternoons with him, Mum would work overtime at the diner and he worked very late at night and early morning. They'd only have about two hours per day together, while I had all of the afternoon until ten at night.

x x x x

He had now been living with us for about five months, the snow was starting to melt and he brought back a game of chess and asked me to teach him. I didn't know how to play, but I retreated to the bathroom and called in a favour with one of my classmates.
He helped me set up the game, he wanted the advantage of the white set, so I always played with the black set. He offered me a cigarette to help me concentrate, we never smoked weed when while playing chess. Winston Classics were all he smoked, he'd complain about the price and that he should switch to roll his cigarettes but he was addicted to the brand and not to tobacco- if that made any sense.
The day of our first chess match was the second time I'd smoked a cigarette, my first was the Gauloises Brunes Non Filter I had stolen from my father's pack a few days before he left. I had hidden it in a little wooden box with a small pack of matches in a small hole in the wall of my room, behind the old olive green chair. I smoked it a few years later, I was twelve and the cigarette was stale and could be snapped in two by the slightest effort. That night, I left my childish self behind. So I had thought, before my eyes met his.
I let Mum's boyfriend win the first match, our technique was sloppy and we didn't respect the rules a hundred percent but we had fun.

I mixed him a drink, Cherry Coke and Red Label whiskey, he caressed my cheek to thank me and grabbed his drink. I was known in school to act without thinking, I had always ripped my way through the forrest of life, 'Kill It before It kills you' had been my modo but ever since he'd come into my life I always played it safe. I was terrified of doing the wrong think and he'd leave me stranded. I would calculate almost every word, every touch; except this one. My porcelain hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweater and, with unknown force I jerked his face to mine.
It felt as if I had swallowed a bullet when our lips crashed into each other with grace, my hands squeezed his sweater tight, I was afraid I would float away, tears of regret started to shamefully sulk down my pink cheeks, for he wasn't returning my kiss.
I painfully started to pull away, my heavy eyelids were opening, when his big, warm, hand captured the back of my skull and sealed our lips together again. My blush intensified and my grip loosened.
I had kissed before but it had never made me feel as if I was dangling from a cliff, trying not to plummet to my end.

When we let go of each other, all he said was "Oh, sweet little girl." and he held my hand to his beating heart.

xxxx

As I scanned my subway card the next morning, I couldn't help but wonder why I wasted money on the subway everyday. I needed to save up for a bike.
My head was colliding with strangers' chests, head and legs. I wasn't able to control my body, it was Tuesday morning and I had found myself in Greenwich Village, all of the buildings looked familiar but I couldn't label one.
It wasn't until my porcelain fingers grabbed the white window and that I saw her bright smile that I understood why I was here.

I decided against the bike.

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Here is the second chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.

it truly meant a ot to me, the book is just starting so it must feel quite slow, i have so many ideas but i;ve got to build up the story for it all to work. okay have a good day.

also if you had already read my first version of "brisee" , and you liked the new chapters please unvote then vote again so that i know who's reading this book, i remember the voters because of the notifications.

also enjoy the new cover i'm so proud

update: "oh, sweet little girl" makes me CRINGE SOOO MUCH EEWWW