[This one's dedicated to Janelybean for all the awesome comments and votes on this book. Thanks so much, babe. ]
David was hurting my feelings, without knowing it, he was just always doing that thing with his eyes and with his smile and my heart would just go on overdrive and it's like I can't breathe anymore but I can and I couldn't explain any of it. Just thinking about it made me go mad.
He was officially with Laura for three weeks now, and they were here, visiting with me, and always holding hands and looking at each other with those eyes. His emerald green eyes looking at her grey ones and I would just think back and wonder, was it me and him like that? Did we ever look at each other like that? Or was all I thinking about ever is if I tell him the truth would it hurt him?
My heart felt like it was held in his hands, and he was very slowly and gently squeezing into it until eventually, everything I've ever felt was drained out and nothing but emptiness was left and all I could think about right now was how much it had hurt. How much that gut-wrenching, heart squeezing, damned moment hurt. How he very slowly made it out of my life and still looked at me like I meant something to him and smiled at me like I was his best friend and treated me like everything we've had for all this time, for those little weeks was nothing.
(1st of November 2011, Tuesday)
I was getting used to all the white walls and corridors and the lining up of all the annoyingly uncomfortable chair of an ugly beige color that streaked most of the walls.
My dad has been undergoing treatment for days now, the doctors believe that they have cut out all the necessary parts of the cancer, which was the liver's bile duct. He was currently undergoing chemotherapy which he had to visit quite a good couple of times a week, but I've requested for him to stay in the hospital for his own good.
He was worried about being able to pay the bills, that was the least of my worries right now. I had quite the savings that I could put in and if it wasn't enough. I'd find a job or something.
I was glad that he was getting better, the constant school skipping and catching up with my work was wearing me down. He looked so much better, like he used to before the accident.
"Hey, dad." I slowly whisper after opening his door. I smiled slightly to which he returned.
"Hey, Al." he replied, his smile still, crooked and wide.
"I got you some cookies. I know the doctors order me around to get you more fruits and all that stuff. But we both know that's overrated and a little bit of cookies won't harm anyone. I mean, come on, look at them. They're figuratively innocent if you just eat them in peace." I said, unwrapping the cellophane from the plate and placing it on the table next to his bed.
"You're dodging something." My dad said, looking at me with a warm smile. I turned around, my back facing him and pulled out a chair from the back of the room, placing it right next to his bed and sitting down.
"I'm just tired, need to catch up with a lot of school work and it's been quite sometime since you've been home, so I kinda feel alone." I explained, lying to him. Always lying.
"I've seen David a couple of times around with that English girl. They're always holding hands and pecking each other. Are you okay with that? I thought you guys were a thing or some stuff like that. I'm barely catching up with your drama these days, Alaska," his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he continued to look at me, as if trying to see through everything I felt and thought.
My heart started beating slightly faster as my brain twiddled around to find some excuse for me to spit out, but nothing came out.
"They've been dating for some time now." I finally managed to croak out.
"Are you upset about it?" My dad asked, looking at me with that darn look again.
"I guess that I am. Hell, I am. I'm kind of hurt. I wasn't quiet sure what me and him were and then there was this freaking bet slash agreement and I didn't know what was happening half of the time and not until Laura actually got him somehow that I realized how I actually felt about David. It's got my head all spinning and crazy for days now." I complained, throwing my hands up for the effect of it.
Most of the times I was trying to keep my dad out of my dramatic and yet not so much dramatic kind of a life, but then he always got in right when he was needed the most and I was pretty appreciative about it and of everything that he ever does.
Every time I lie to him, I put myself in his shoes and think of how it would feel like, going to sleep every night, knowing that your daughter is never happy and so I tell him. I tell him how I feel about this and what it makes me think and do and how it drives me nuts and how I really want to do something about this I rant until I can't breathe and hours pass and he's still listening to me. He's always listening to me.
"I still don't understand why you agreed to the bet in the first place." He sighed and then continued, "I'm not judging you or anything and you know that, but it's just, I don't understand what exactly were you thinking? And you told me you'd speak to him." He shook my head at me and I just frowned, more disappointed than he was probably. I didn't know what to say or reply back so I just kept quiet, waiting for him to say something more.
"Is he happy with that English girl?" He asked, rubbing his forehead.
"Do you need some water?" I asked, concerned at the furrowing of his eyebrows and formed wrinkles that took place everything he pinched his skin in between his rough fingers.
"Please," he nodded.
I stood up and poured him a glass of water, passing it over to him. "Yes," I said. "He's happy with her. I'm glad that he is. But it's hurting me, you know?"
"I know, Al. I know."
I sat back on the plastic chair next to his bed and watched him fall asleep. Somehow, this couple of weeks made it look like he's aged in a way, whilst it's only been a couple of weeks. A couple of crazy weeks.
A knock on the door pushed me out of my trance. "Can I come in?"
"I don't know, Phil. Can you?" I asked, smirking as I turned the chair to the side slowly, trying not to make a sound.
"Sorry. May I?" he corrected himself, stepping inside before I could say anything else and closed the white wooden door behind him.
"How is he?" he asked, his eyes set on my father's sleeping figure.
"He's doing a lot better. I spoke to the doctors earlier if we could continue the treatment at home, and just pay off for all the machines to be installed at our place that way we wouldn't have to pay for the nights spent here. I'm running out of all the money I could earn." I give out a slight laugh at the end, rubbing the palm of my hands against my black jeans.
"That sounds like a plan. You know, if you just need help or anything-"
"It's fine, Phil. I think I got it." I reassured him, smiling a little.
"You should get to school soon. When are you planning on doing that?" he pushed another chair from the corner of the room and placed it right next to mind quietly.
"Monday, definitely."
"You said the same thing last week." he complained, looking me down with disapproval in his eyes. "Your dad is here, in the hospital," he continued, "no one's going to come and grab him. You could always come after school."
"Yeah, I could've done that. Too late now, isn't it?" I smirked and then let out a long sigh, "but seriously," I looked him in the eye, "I'll be there on Monday." I declared.
He looked back at me not believing what I just said. Rolling my eyes, I spat out, "I promise. I'll be there. If it makes you feel any better you can just pick me up from there."
"Deal. I'll be doing just that." he smiled, his dimple on the left showing.
He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and let out a loud, exhausting sigh. Just then I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and raised a brow, silently forming questions. I think he picked up on it and just shook his head, indicating that it was nothing.
"The real question is, how're you doing?" Phil asked me, his hand on my shoulder now. I was trying not laugh, he wasn't the smartest person walking on this planet, but I keep telling him that he had doctor-ly instincts. Like the 'placing my hand on someone else's shoulder' thing that he always did, that was something they would teach you at med camp for practice and he had that 'instinct'.
"What now?" he rolled his eyes at me, taking his hand off my shoulder. I placed my head on his, smiling slightly and then looking up at him.
"I swear, you have to think about med school. I know you're not that smart, but you're not stupid either and plus, you're still not sure about what you should try out, so why not this? I mean, if you don't like it you can always switch back to whatever else you think you want to do." I explained, trying to imagine him being anything else but a doctor and no image was fitting in my head.
"I guess you're right, but I'm not going to jump into the conclusion. And plus, I don't have any biology classes to get into med school or something." I glared at him and then said, "you dumb nut, you take your bio courses in college along with the lab work before you join med school."
"At least," I continued, "that's what I'd be doing."
"You're planning to go to med school?" he looked shocked, his none existent double chin from my view looked shocked too.
"I was thinking about it, not like I actually know what I want to do. It's the safest choice. It's easier to switch to other courses later on, supposedly business. If you go to med school and after graduating you decide you want to do business, you can go ahead and do that directly. But switching from business or whatever you call the commerce field is much more difficult to the medical one. Which is why you need to think things through." I explained, remembering everything the school counsellor told me a couple of months ago when we were filling out our achievements and goals form for our graduation the coming months.
I remembered her calling me to her office with a disappointed look in her face to pull out my sheet that was mostly blank, I had barely any achievements or goals that I wanted to pursue. She explained to me the common and asked me to think about it. I thought that that talk would never end, who thought it would be useful today?
"David told me you've changed." Phil interrupts my trail of thought and I again look up at him, coming to face his chin. It was difficult to see anything but his disturbingly very straight nose from where my head lied on his shoulder.
I didn't know what he meant by that or why he had brought it up, but I hadn't considered the subject to be continued. "People don't change, Phil. They just become more of who they really are."
"You're all smarty pants one second and the other you're just so damn poetic, it hits me right here," he pointed to his heart.
"Can you take me home? I don't feel like driving." I replied, honestly. It was how most of my conversations with Phil would end or start. Just stop in the middle of nowhere and start from the other middle of god knows where.
"Not a problem at all."
I gathered my things and put the chairs back in their places just in case my dad decides to go to the bathroom and trips over instead. I take out a small notebook from my bag pack and tear out a small page, scribbling a note to my father and placing it on the hospital's nightstand.
"Ready to go?" He asked and I nodded, taking his hand in mine and quietly leaving the hospital room.
On our way out I spoke to my father's nurse and finalized some details on when he would be ready to leave and be put under house arrest, not literally of course, but medically. I was going to officially put him on bed rest for probably the rest of the year f he continued to rebel like that.
"So, what're you going to be doing for the rest of the day? It's like only three in the afternoon right now." Phil asked, looking down at this watch before placing his hand back on the steering wheel and his eyes focused starlight ahead on the road.
"I've some school work to do but I won't be working on that for now, not until later at least. What about you?" I turned to look back at him.
"Not much, I'd just drop you over and maybe grab some junk food and head over back home. We didn't have much homework at school today so I'm still not sure what I'd be doing."
"Would you like to come over?" I asked nervously, fumbling with my fingers on my lap.
"Like, right now?" He asked, turning to look at me.
"Yeah, we can order in." I shrugged.
"Eh, yeah. Sounds like a plan." He agreed, his hands tightening on the steering while, knuckles turning white.
I remained silent, looking out the window as we passed the highway with he speed probably way above an 80, all the other cars driving around beeping furiously. I could see two cars in front of racing, one in a mini jeep and the other some sort of sports car.
Couldn't they think of the possibilities? That there were other people driving and they had kids in their cars that could get hurt because of their reckless driving. Freaking idiots.
Those were the same snotty rich people that paid up the press to avoid such stories to be put out to the people like us; who were labeled as the bad rather than the victims.
"What's wrong?" Phil asked, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as he sighed. Moving his hands slightly to the side, to take the right turn down the road to our street.
"Nothing," I angrily let out, folding my arms across, "It's just that drivers like that," pointing my hand behind us to indicate the two idiots driving earlier, "make me so mad. Like what do they think they're doing?"
"I wish we could do something about it," Phil said, "but those people either never get caught or pay their way out of it so I'm not quite sure we actually can unless we contact the government straight out. Which I'm sure we won't be doing anytime soon."
The way Phil thought, amazed me. I've always had a hard time functioning around people who're not quite on the catching up side. I always expected them to know things they're not supposed to know, but that I do. I didn't know why, but I just did.
I loved it when people talked big and smart, when you could just randomly talk about the lazy atoms in a human body or the pituitary gland in your brain from how the mitosis regenerates and the satellites Jupiter has. Big talk fascinated and intrigued me more than anything ever could and i'd be damned if Phil ever said anything like that. Besides his alien obsession of course, God forbid.
I just nodded at his response and waited for him to pull up into my driveway.
"What are we going to order?" I asked him, closing the door of his car as he did the same, locking it behind him.
"Chinese?" He asked, grinning like a little child, his brown eyes glistening.
My face scrunched up slightly and I shook my head, "this is way too cliché."
"What isn't? If we order pizza it'll be the same." He announced.
I played around with the key chain before opening the door to my house and stepping in, locking it behind him and leaving the key in the door.
"Quite the right fact you've stated there, my friend."
"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" He placed his hands together and flattered his eyelashes looking up, pretending to be some sort of dumb arse angel or something.
"Fine." I huffed. "I want chicken noodles with veggies. Don't judge." I put my finger up to silence him. He just smiled and pretended to zip his mouth. What a child.
"I'm going to go upstairs and change whilst you order, all right?" I told Phil, already taking two steps at a time and running to my room to grab a pair of gray sweats and my dad's old black tee shirt.
An hour later we were spread on the couch next to each other with my smart tv connected to the wifi and we've put on the vampire diaries series, after so much convincing from Phil here, to watch supernatural. I must admit, it's not that bad, just too much high school drama.
"If women were okay with how they looked the lots of companies would shut down and lots of people would be bankrupt and out of jobs." Phil randomly blurted out, "I was at the mall the other day and the mannequins do not look human. Like how do you fit an average female into a dress that would fit only a twig." He complained, slightly struggling with his sticks. "I don't want to take of a girls push up bra and have to declare that it's a boy or a ten year old." He complied.
I started choking on my very good noodles, poor noodles. Poor noodles.
"Oh god." I laughed. "I know what you mean. I don't even know the right use of a push up bra. Like there's either nothing to push up or no need to push up. Why'd you even invent this shit. What for?" I groaned, my eyes closing at the heavenly noodles. Noodles is life. Noodles is everything. I love you China.
"There's this girl in our grade that wears one, like its so damn obvious." Phil complained.
I tried not to laugh at his complexion, he was such a gossip girl.
And then I remembered something that I hesitated to share but decided to tell him anyway, "there was this one time Daniel called me flat," I started but Phil interrupted me, "he's freaking blind."
I just continued ignoring the comment, "and well I was telling my friend about it on the next day. And she was all shocked she just screamed 'What? You're like the mother of boobs!' And everyone was just looking at me weirdly ever since. God, Mia. She's quite something." I laughed, reminiscing at the memory.
"Well, I haven't heard of that one. Quite the friend you have. She's the one with the short hair cut, right? Always spilling drinks and dropping food around, short and cute." He elaborated, his eyebrow raised. He placed his empty food box back on the table and crossed his legs under him as he turned to face me.
"Yeah, she's the one."
"How come you don't hang out with that group anymore?" He asked me, crossing his arms and laying his head on the pillow as he raised his legs to place them on my lap. I raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything about it.
"There was a little argument about something." I said.
"Doesn't seem so little to me."
Damn Phil. Damn you. Why aren't you smart when you ought to be?