P h o t o #40 - Twinkling Lightly
I stared down at my dark brown knock-off Ugg boots, ones that I had gotten at a thrift shop a year back, disturbingly conscious of the slight street salt stains they had accumulated over the past year adorning it.
My hand still enveloped in Elliot's, practically sweating in the mitten covering it, I was glad there was no skin on skin contact due to the clamminess of said hand. Even though I had boldly stated that keeping our hands intertwined was for the better of us both, what with me slipping on every single piece of ice coating the ground and Elliot's lack of gloves, I was feeling incredibly shy as we rounded the corner and finally made our way down the homey street my house sat on.
'This is too strange,' I thought, almost feeling a cold sweat coming on, 'I'm...holding hands with a guy, and I don't exactly...hate it.' I couldn't believe myself. Though my nerves were basically shot after this experience, I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for it to end as my little green house came into view.
'Just a few months ago Elliot didn't even know I existed,' I resumed, my eyes locking on our hands once again, 'Why did I even say we should hold hands. Though it has helped me the few times I've lost my footing since we left the school parking lot, my reasoning was practically illogical.' I paused, contemplating some more, 'Plus...he has two perfectly fine pants pockets. He even has his other hand in one!' My eyes popped as they peaked at his left hand currently resting in its corresponding pocket, then a small flutter in my chest took the reigns, 'Why...did he listen to my stupid request...'
Just as I was taking the time to reason my way through our predicament, Elliot stopped in his tracks. My delayed reaction caused me to yank on his arm, stopping a few steps in front of him.
I turned back, my mental dilemma forgotten, "What's wrong?"
The smallest part of my brain, the corner I had driven all of the negativity within me into, whispered, 'He's finally realized that we're being seen in public like this, of course he'd be horrified.'
I surprised the urge by shaking my head, already shoving those thoughts back deeper, where they couldn't be heard.
I refused to degrade myself anymore. Though I had had this passing longing many times, it was during that moment of silence that it became a firm rule I would try my hardest to live by. There was no getting better if I didn't try loving myself.
Back to reality.
A long pause, and then he answered simply, almost causing me to throw myself onto the pavement for worrying at all, "Actually, there was a reason why I walked you home today."
I tilted my head to the side, wondering just what kind of reason it was to make Elliot unable to meet my eyes. A gust of wind blew against my back, pushing Elliot's hair out of his gaze. He continued to stare down at his shiny shoes.
"I, uh, wanted to tell you that...my dad and I started actually talking to each other again...instead of fighting." He spoke just above a whisper, his low voice fighting against the whipping of the winter air for my hearing capacity, "It's not much, but it's an effort."
A wave of utter relief spread through my body, even my toes were dancing within their fuzzy socks. I squeezed his hand, the one I still had quite the firm grip on, "That's wonderful!" I stepped foreword, wanting Elliot to understand how happy I was for him. I could almost feel my dull brown eyes sparkling.
Elliot took a half step back, looking overwhelmed by my sudden outburst, but he quickly straightened himself up and gave me a smile so sincere it sent a wave of heat to my cheeks.
He gripped my hand tight, bringing back the diffident feeling I was being controlled by before. It seemed that when it came to Elliot I could sure dish it, but was inevitably weak against taking it back.
"Yes, it is." His smile still as honest as before, his eyes showing just how much he meant what he said. "Thank you."
With the next gust of freezing wind hit our bundled bodies, it was as if it had swept up every ounce of confidence Elliot held as he stared down at me. His hazel eyes went downcast, and he shifted his weight from one leg to another.
"That's why..." He mumbled, his left hand squirming in his pocket before pulling out what he was looking for, "I have these...if you're up for it."
I looked down at two tickets, both equally a shade of neon purple. The same silly looking bowling pin mascot next to two words spelled in white block letters, Lindenheights Lanes.
My silence was taken negatively by Elliot, "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to...my dad actually gave those to me anyways, saying that I should, uh, use them if I wanted to. We actually used to go there together when I was younger, though I'd usually have to beg to go-"
"Elliot," I finally said, stopping his babbling, "it's okay, I want to go. Though I may not look like it, I do enjoy a friendly competition." I smiled, my thin arm reaching out and handing him one of the two laminated pieces of paper.
His eyes widened, "So, you'll go?"
I nodded, and he almost looked as if he had to surprise a grin as the corners of his lips eagerly twitched, "Okay," he responded, his voice trying to contradict his face, "it's a bit sudden, but those tickets are actually for tonight." He scratched the back of his head a fiddled with his bangs a bit, "It isn't much, but this place sort of holds a lot of memories for me. So I really don't wanna waste the tickets."
"That's okay," I exclaimed, "I don't really enjoy over the top places all that much anyways. Also I have no qualms about going tonight."
'I am always free, after all.' I thought pitifully.
We walked the short rest of the way quietly, our pockets both holding a matching ticket, and stopped at the end of my cracked driveway. I watched as the little flakes of snow falling into the many cracks of the pavement. The snow let out one final crunch before we both stopped.
"Oh, by the way, I almost forgot." Elliot stated, looking down as I waited in anticipation, "It's, um...ugly sweater night at the lanes. I know it's kind of lame but..."
I could feel sweet warmth fill my cheeks as an excited smile once again lifted my features, "Ugly sweaters?! I have, like, a million of those! This is great, I haven't had a good reason to wear one in ages!"
Another look of astonishment spread across Elliot's handsome face, but this time he let a small smile fall into place after it, "I'll pick you up at seven o'clock, is that alright?"
"It is." I answered.
Our hands untwined, and suddenly a strange feeling filled me. One that almost had me grabbing for Elliot's large hand just one more time.
I swallowed it down, almost showing the surprise I felt by the emotion on my face.
"Thanks for keeping me from falling, by the way." I said, covering up the awkwardness I felt by the very fact that I had held hands with Elliot Beau for fifteen minutes straight.
"No problem." He shrugged, hiding the lower half of his face behind the collar of his coat, though the slight elevation of his strong cheek bones had me wondering if he was smiling.
He turned, and I waved. My mind in another place, my body dragged itself into the warmth of my cozy home.
And immediately I was flat on my bottom the moment I shut the heavy front door behind me, my back against the bone chilling dark wood.
My grandmother almost screeched in response to the sudden noise, her small frame standing in front of the kitchen sink a few feet away to my left. I had forgotten how close knit this house was.
She shuffled in her puffy slippers over to me, her wrinkled arms reaching down. I leaned my head against the door, looking up as she spoke to me, "Honey, are you alight?!"
I managed a slow nod, still trying my hardest to process the events that had just unfolded.
The little old lady smoothed out her apron, wiping her freshly washed hands dry on it. She then reached out to me, "Here, take my hand. You aren't a pair of shoes, you know. Now get off the welcome mat."
Just as I grasped her small hand, I finally managed a sentence.
"Do you think you could show me how to French braid my hair?"
***
I stared at myself in the mirror, my heart pounding. Another prick of pain pierced my skull and I winced, noticing the small tear forming at the corner of my right eye.
"Grandmother, as much as I truly appreciate you doing my hair for me, do you think you can be a bit more careful with where your digging your nails into...?" I whimpered.
My grandmother looked at me in the mirror, a handful of my thick hair in each hand, "Oh, quit your yapping. We've only got an hour and a half left until you're getting picked up!"
I could feel a cold sweat break out onto my forehead as I closed my eyes, 'Welcome back, grandmazilla, I haven't seen you in ages.' I thought as I remembered the last time my grandmother was either angry, anxious, or both - the times this attitude of her's came out the most.
After a few moments of nothing but hairstyling, my grandmother spoke up again, her tone shifting from unnerved to that of a teenager's, "Soooo, who's exactly picking you up? Is it the brazen blonde one? Or maybe it's that very cute boy with the big brown eyes? Oh! Is it the one with the glasses?! Boy, if I were fifty years younger-!"
"Grandmother!"
My eyes snapped open, my cheeks aflame, and I was met with my grandmother's excited expression, her eyebrows raised quizzically as if to tease me. I had forgotten how ecstatic my grandmother was when it came to men.
'Great,' I thought, 'she thinks this is a date.'
I quickly hardened my face, unsure of how she could even think it was such a thing. No one in their right mind would ask me out on a date, "If you must know, Elliot's the one taking me to the place him and his father used to bowl at when he was young. It's a thank-you for what happened last time at best." I said, believing every word I spoke with no doubt in mind.
I could feel my grandmother's hand stiffen a bit at the mentioning of what had occurred only two weeks earlier. At the time of it, after Elliot had left our house, I explained the gist of what happened at the Beau household to my grandmother, leaving out more personal details for Elliot's sake.
I watched the old lady behind me drop her brown eyed gaze, "It's a shame, really. He's such a nice boy, it pains my old heart to see someone so young dealing with something like that."
Then, suddenly, her stare shot up to my reflection in the mirror, and I looked away.
She knew Elliot wasn't the only one with parental issues.
We sat quietly for awhile, her working on my hair and me sitting still with my eyes closed tightly, until my grandmother finally got to the very last few strands and spoke up.
"Emma, you know I want you to have a good time tonight, and I'm not saying this to upset you." She paused, grimacing as she prepared to voice what was next, "Though I may not be on the best of terms with your mother, I would like you to call her."
My stomach dropped, and she went on, "I've been getting a lot of phone calls lately, I think she'd like to finally speak with you again, and I think you should consider it this time around." She finally finished my hair as she spoke, and set her old, wrinkled hand on my left shoulder, "You can't avoid this forever, sweetheart."
I kept my eyes closed, afraid that my usual anger they unrelentingly showed when she brought up this subject would be directed towards her. Surprisingly, I was quite calm. The only effect of hearing about my mother that still went on strong was the slight aching of my chest with each slow heartbeat.
I had promised my grandmother many times that I would call her, but each time the promised day came and passed I could not bring myself to even look at the outdated phone that hung on our kitchen wall. She never held it against me, but I knew that what she was saying was correct. I was almost halfway through my senior year of high school, after all, and I understood that what my grandmother was telling me was out of wanting the best for me.
Something I would never take into account before.
So, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. My heart tugged once I saw the nervous look on my grandmother's face.
"I will, grandmother. This time, I really will."
My grandmother clasped a hand over her heart, her eyes glassy. She gave me a tight squeeze from behind, her wrinkled arms holding my shoulders. I lifted my hands and grasped hers, our warmth mixing.
"You're such a beautiful girl, Emma." She said, her voice almost wavering, "I'm sure your mother will be proud of how far you've come."
I bit my lower lip, cursing myself for causing such stress in my grandmother, "I'm sorry." I whispered.
"Oh, don't you worry a bit," My grandmother's voice, now lighter, spoke, "I'm an old lady, I'm supposed to fret over everything."
I gave her a smile, and she returned a cheerful one of her own. After excusing herself to go get a cup of hot tea, I continued to stare at myself in the oversized bathroom mirror.
I squinted, my contacts making my vision bleary for a moment. After my eyesight stabilized, I was hit with something I couldn't ever remember feeling before.
I...wasn't unattractive. My dead eyes, once a dull brown that could barely hold onto emotion, beamed with new possibilities I had yet to discover. My paper white skin now flooded with the color of life. Light, natural make up was applied by me alone, and somehow it brought out features I never knew I had. It was almost astonishing.
Unsure of how to approach these feelings I stared down at my belovedly ugly sweater: a hideous oversized red colored thing with the entirety of Santa's sleigh and all of his reindeer. It even included little Rudolph in the front. My legging clad legs shook with excitement as I thought about the little surprise my shirt had in store for Elliot.
Another thing that hit me was the fact that there wasn't even an ounce of anxiety resting in my belly. It may have been the fact that I had taken my second batch of pills only an hour beforehand, but I had a inkling that just that wasn't the entire case.
Something about the thought of Elliot and I having some alone time together had my heart doing all sorts of hopeful summersaults, and I had yet to pinpoint exactly why.
My festive matching socks that went quite well with my sweater moved back and forth with my giddy feet, rubbing against the cold dark tile of the bathroom floor in rhythm.
Suddenly I was up and steady at my full height, running down the hall and towards my room, making sure I straightened out anything I felt could use some straightening with my appearance. I smoothed my bangs over in one swift sweep as I basically ran around my room, trying to get rid of the sudden burst of energy I had.
My eyes met with Misty, who sat leisurely upon my pillow. It didn't take long for me to almost sprint over and raise her in my arms.
My grinned wide at the little gray furball and she happily mowed back. As I set her against my chest, rubbing her head slowly, I spoke aloud.
"You remember that boy from before right?" I asked the small creature. She looked up at me and blinked slowly, so I took her little response as a yes, "He's picking me up soon, you know." I thought for a moment before going on, "Though I wouldn't mind if everyone had come, of course, but when I think about it, this may be for the better."
As if the conversation had immediately made her lose interest, Misty closed her baby blue eyes and dipped her head, letting herself be lulled by the massage I was giving her.
A playful sigh left my lips, "Misty, it's common curtesy to listen when someone is speaking to you, even if what they're saying isn't interesting."
I clicked my tongue, shaking my head as Misty looked back up at me again with saucer-like eyes. My heart melted at how adorable she was and I set her back on my pillow, "Okay, I won't bother you anymore."
Misty mewed with her cutesy kitten voice and I had to fight the urge to embrace her in my arms once again. I was no match for my pet.
The familiar sound of the monotonous doorbell chime that always rang through my grandmother's house whenever someone was here hit my ears.
Elation bubbled eagerly in my gut, causing my footsteps to carry me down the stairs and to the shoe mat. I threw on my tennis shoes as my gaze met with the clock ticking away on the wall across from me reading 6:47 p.m.
My hands were on the doorknob just as my grandmother peaked her little grey-haired head around the kitchen entrance's corner. She gave me a quick wink and blew me a kiss, and I rolled my eyes a few soft giggles escaped my lips. She was gone, back to making her tea, within the blink of an eye.
The faint chill of the metal on my hands gave me goosebumps under my sleeves as I twisted the knob and opened the heavy front door, exposing a bundled up Elliot at my door step.
Time froze as we stared at one another. His warm breath left dancing clouds around his profile, his star-like freckles even more prominent as the cold flushed his cheeks. His dark beige winter jacket was only slightly zipped up, exposing his sweater of choice for the night: a dark green, thick cotton shirt with presents and ribbons stitched twirling in place on the fabric all topped with an especially gaudy one at the neckline mocking a bow tie. His khaki clad legs and simple black shoes shifted modestly as we gazed. Minutely shaggy dark brown hair neatly groomed, and yet slightly tousled by the frigid breeze that swept through the night. His clear hazel eyes reflected the light coming from the little outdoor lamp that sat high next to my door.
"You're early." I said breathlessly once time began to catch up on us for the second time that day.
A smirk of mischief etched his features, causing me to questioningly have an even harder time catching my breath, "But you look more than ready."
I felt a slight warmth tinge my face. He caught me, "That I am..." I trailed off bashfully, grabbing my coat off the wrack next to the inside of the doorway.
As I slid my arms through the sleeves, Elliot responded, "Ready for the competition of a lifetime?"
I looked up, his face never loosing the mischievous grin I saw before. My eyes sparkled, "I'll tell you right now, I don't plan on losing."
"That makes two of us." He extended his hand once I had gotten my coat around myself, and it took me a moment to realize that there was a single step extending from where I stood and where Elliot was. The memory of him helping me out hurt a few hours before tolled in my bind like a flitting bell, and I laughed at the fact that he thought he should help me even on such a small step.
I took the hand offered to me, nonetheless. You can't let kindness go to waste, after all.
"That's quite the sweater you've got there." He stated after I had closed the door after I called out a brisk goodbye to my grandmother (and her promptly telling Elliot to have me home before eleven o'clock) and as we made our way towards his car parked in my driveway.
I looked down, realizing I never got the chance to even zip up my simple black coat. Instantly I was overcome with the desire to show Elliot the best part about my sweater, the one that had me ripping it off the sales wrack before I could even think straight.
I stopped, my fingers already at the unnoticeable button at the bottom of the hem of my shirt, "You have no idea." I exclaimed before activating my shirt's surprise.
Little lights embedded in the shirt's scarlet fabric were brought to life, glittering reds and greens twinkling lightly as they flickered to and fro. Even if the lights were extremely tiny, the darkness surrounding us emphasized their colors as they lit up our faces.
Elliot's eyes widened, "Wow, I think you've got me beat."
I gave him a cheeky grin, "I'll be looking forward to hearing that again after I beat you at bowling."
The swirls of green in his eyes were exposed as his eyes got even wider, but only for a moment before he broke out into a graceful smile that I never saw on his face before, "You sure do love competitions, dont you?"
My heart stuttered as we made eye contact, and quickly I found myself unable to hold our stare.
A comfortable silence blanketed us as Elliot led me into the passenger seat of his car, closing the door for me as I got comfortable in the leather seat.
And for the split second it took him to make his way into the driver's side of the car, I found myself wondering if I had ever heard, in my many days of aimlessly sifting through medical handbooks back in one of my tenth grade phases, of any illnesses that caused such an emotional feeling within my chest.