Listen, Obey

14. Fourteenth Lesson

“Ethan, you look like Olaf.” Tilia giggled, but she seemed to be tired because there was no additional dancing.

“Olaf?”

“The snowman, silly.”

How could I forget? I’d just seen the movie, I should remember his name, but perhaps I’d been more distracted by Matthews beside me than I wanted to admit.

I was glad Tilia had erased the possibility of an awkward silence with her Olaf-comment because I was better off without one. If I could forget how Matthews affected me, things would be much easier.

I brushed some snow off of my shoulders, but it was pretty useless. I was covered in snow from head to toe.

 “Are you soaked all the way through?” Matthews asked. It was easy to tell that Matthews didn’t feel the same way as I did about what transpired between us: he was far too causal about everything that had happened. Probably, these tense situations were common for him, so he didn’t react in the same way. I, on the other hand, battled with chaos.

“Ethan?”

Oh, right, he’d asked me a question.

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, I can tell. I’ll give you a change of clothes when we get inside.” With that, Matthews placed a hand on Tilia’s back and helped her inside. It wasn’t that she couldn’t walk on her own, but her feet dragged. Just moments ago she had been playing on full speed, and now it seemed she’d burned her fuel entirely.

I followed them inside and stood like a fool in the hallway, not knowing how to help Matthews with his daughter even if this would be my job later on. He removed her clothes, placed the wet gear on the tiled floor and hefted her up in his arms.

“I’ll come with some clothes for you soon. I just have to get her a blanket first.” He disappeared into the living room and I tried my best to get out of the outer layer of wet clothes. Matthews were right, I was soaked all the way through and it wasn’t pleasant.

Matthews came back, carrying a pair of sweats and a warm jumper. “Here, you can change in the room down the hall. It’s a guestroom, so if you want to take a shower there should be a fresh towel hanging on the rack.”

A shower sounded fabulous, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough to stand naked in Matthews’ house. However, I wasn’t going to tell him that, so I took the clothes, said thank you, and trudged off.

I did peek into the bathroom, and the shower stall seemed to sing like a siren—calling me in—but I didn’t give in to the temptation. I did use the towel to dry me off once I had peeled the wet clothes off of my shivering skin.

It looked almost blue under the harsh light, but I’d been colder than this in my life. This was nothing in comparison, so there was no use complaining. The clothes were far too big on my skinny frame, but they were warm.

My image fleeted past in the mirror, and I realized that I needed to do something with my hair. My long dark tresses were not only wet, but also tangled. I searched the drawers for a comb, pulling out one after the other. Each one was filled with some kind of beauty-kit or another, but no comb.

I had almost given up when I pulled out a small drawer that was almost hidden amongst the others. There was no comb, but something else. The lacquered box was similar to boxes I’d raided in my previous life.

I paused; I had to think.

If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be anything in that box worth fencing. If I was unlucky, I would have a dilemma. If I didn’t open the box at all, I wouldn’t know what was in there, but I would be safe—for now at least.

Closing the drawer took some effort, but I did it. When it was shut, I met my eyes in the mirror. I could almost see the rising panic swirling my brown irises. I blinked and looked away. There was no use tormenting myself further. My hair could be a mess, no one would care anyway. The most important thing was to get out of there.

Entering the living room, I saw a knocked-out Tilia sleeping on the sofa tucked beneath a warm blanket. Matthews was sitting in an armchair, reading some papers. He put them down as soon as I came in and placed a magazine on top of them.

This was the moment for the awkward silence. Tilia’s snowman comment had only postponed it seemed. Matthews cleared his throat and waved for me to sit down. I shifted my weight back and forth on my feet. Most of all I wanted to go home again, because I felt like I had outstayed my welcome already.

“Perhaps I should be going home…”

“Ah, about that.” Matthews looked apologetic. I didn’t understand why until he switched on the TV and the news came on.

Several accidents have occurred since noon and onwards because of the harsh weather. Plough cars are yet to catch up with the situation and drivers are advised to wait until roads are cleared. However, weather casts are predicting increasing amounts of snow throughout the evening.

The news-anchor continued with another story, but I got the point. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“If they haven’t cleared the roads before tonight, you’re welcome to stay in the guestroom.”

I knew the proper response to that would be ‘thank you’, but when I said it, I could hear how false it rang. I was in trouble. Big trouble. On so many different levels. 

A/N I've been writing a lot these past few days, but now I think it might slow down again, just so you don't expect an update every day :) Hopefully I'll manage to update once a week. xox