It was a dark, breezy night as I sat on the balcony. I was alone, except for the crescent moon and the stars that lingered above me. It was peaceful.
I constantly thought about Mom and Dad. Though it was nothing but a blur, only a few memories were recalled. I only had a childhood with them, and as I create more memories, the older ones seemed to fade. I tried to cherish them, and when I remembered one, I write it down in a little journal I kept under my mattress.
For only being seven years old when my mother died, I do remember her beautiful features: bleach blonde hair, brown eyes, and the freckles I inherited. For Dad, on the other hand - his brown hair with blue eyes, a tall figure, and his kind personality.
"What are you doing out here?" a familiar, deep Boston accent lingered through the warm, breezy northeastern air. I turned my head to look at the tall, tanned boy who shut the sliding door behind him. He took the lounging chair beside me.
"Nothing," I answered, pushing myself up from my relaxed position.
He lit a cigarette. The lighter illuminated his face, his hand cuffing the end of his cigarette, blocking the breeze from blowing out the flame.
"I didn't know you smoked," I spoke. He took a drag and blew out the excess smoke. He held the cigarette between his fingers beside his thigh and waited for the smoke to settle.
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
I leaned my back on the lounge chair and stared at the starry sky. I glanced at him from a distance. The night sky drew his figure, and I could feel his eyes upon me. By only knowing him for a few days and not having anything to talk about, I felt awkward.
"How have you been?" he inquired. He leaned back against the back of the lounging chair, making himself comfortable.
"Good," I answered. "You?"
A smirk overtook his face. "Good - now that I've come back," he trailed off. "I wasn't a big fan of Boston."
"How come?" I wondered.
"To make a long story short, you can get yourself in to a lot of trouble there," he spoke.
I nodded my head as I listened to him. I didn't ask any further questions due to him already making a "long story short."
"Do you really not remember me? You seem to be. . . awkward around me. You used to hate me," he softly laughed.
I looked at him and shook my head no. "Which it might be a good thing – not having someone hate you," I trailed off.
He shifted his weight around in the chair. "You not hating me is just taking one more person off the list of people that do."
I stood from my chair and went to stand, looking over the balcony railing. Sitting in that chair made everything so uncomfortable just by being three feet from him. Now that I had my back to him, it was a little less tense since I didn't have to look at him.
I don't know why I felt uneasy. Maybe it was because someone that I didn't know is slowly coming around, and it's not something I'm used to. I haven't made a friend in a very, long time. Though it is partially my fault, however.