memento vivere

chapter three

After staring at those seven little words for what felt like an eternity, I finally pick my jaw up from the floor and shove the notebook back into my bag, zipping it up this time for safe keeping. Safe keeping for it or from it, I don't know. I don't know what to think. What to make of it. I try and go back to the moment he could've saw me and I'm sure there were a few of them actually. There's one in particular that replays in my mind, the one where I stood there gawking like a fucking freak after the towel dropped. Hopefully it was before that.. But then that'd make the towel drop intentional, right? He knew I was there and did it anyway..

Now I find myself blushing and staring down at the bag like it's housing a wild creature and I don't know what to do with it.

I think Mother has been calling me off and on for the last hour.. Or maybe it's Jesus calling me towards the light. Then again I'm not too sure. I'm not too sure of anything, like if I'm even alive right now. The only logical answer is that I must've finally fell off the roof earlier because of the lattice and hit my head on the way down because there is no way those words are real. I almost wanna get the notebook back out and read it again, like I have to prove to myself that what's written in black bold capital letters on that next to last page, nine rows down is really there.

I grab for it and start to unzip the top when Mother calls again and I decide it's probably for the best that I don't ignore her this time. Or at least that's the excuse I'm going with. I rezip quickly and head out of my room and before I can even get to the bottom of the stairs, she's already meeting me there with that same fucking smile on her face and I know what's coming.

"That was mighty kind of your friend to bring your notebook back. Is he a friend from college? You've never told us about him."

If I could roll my eyes physically, I would.. There's so much she doesn't know or understand about me.. But that would lead to argument between me and her, leading to another argument between her and Dad.. So I settle for rolling them on the inside instead.

"No, he's not my friend. I don't even know who he is. He just moved in down the street.. I think, I don't know. I didn't even realize my notebook was gone.. So..." My words trail off as I step down off the last step. I can feel my face burning under her stare and the fake wood grain of the banister seems real interesting right about now.

Luckily for me, the oven dings out from the kitchen and like the domestic housewife robot she is, it triggers something in her and she heads back into her domain. Unluckily for me, she returns a few moments later with a packed Tupperware dish and holds it out for me to grab.

Try and guess what expression is still plastered across her face..

"Well, it's a good thing he found it then. I'm sure he'll enjoy this as a thank you, don't you think?"

Looking at the dish, I'm not sure if anyone in their right mind would enjoy it, but even before that, I can't believe she's really asking me to do this. I really must be dead.

Matter of fact, I'd rather be dead.

"No, there's no need. I already told him thank you.. And he said he had other plans tonight so he's probably not even home.."

Suddenly, I hear the wrong answer buzzer from Wheel of Fortune go off but I'm confused because it's not time for that to be on and I don't even hear the tv. Mother pushes the glass dish against my chest and removes her hands so I have no choice but to grab it before it falls. Then she turns her focus to pushing me by the shoulders towards the front door before she opens it and lightly shoves me outside. "Isn't Tupperware so handy? You can just pop it in the fridge and save it for later.." She smiles but this time it's weird, sadistic and passive aggressive almost and now, I'm thankful that she forced me to leave.