Sorry for the long wait! Will update every two weeks from now on. Or try. Warning! Angst ahead! Dedicated to JazzStardust once again, for mail conversation that inspired one of Matt's train of thought. You'll know which one, Jazzie!
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The silence the Monday morning after the Thanksgiving weekend was more compact than usual. Me and my mom moved carefully around each other, making breakfast, not uttering other words then the odd 'can you?' and 'thanks'. It was a treacherous peaceful scene, the truce fragile. We were walking on eggshells already filled with hairline cracks. Coming back from my grandparents in North East, my mom had announced to me and Julie that she and Tim had talked about him moving in with us. Julie had shrugged, fiddling with her phone as usual, mumbling that 'he's here all the time, anyways'. I hadn't been that overjoyed about it. More the opposite. Like the total opposite in 'no way never'. And when mom had called me unreasonable I 'd lost it. After that it felt like we had been fighting non-stop. My throat hoarse from all the yelling. And not just about Tim moving in. Everything we'd managed to keep down came up to the surface, down to me leaving my towels on the wrong hook in the bathroom.
"Are you going to Susan's after work?" I mumbled as I was about to leave.
"Not today, maybe this weekend. Me and Tim are going to-"
"So you can discuss how he's not fucking moving in here?" I interrupted, getting up from the table.
"Language!" my mom snapped, but her face softened immediately. "Can't we just try and talk about this? We're not getting anywhere-"
"How can we? When you won't even let me speak!" I deliberately left my bowl on the counter top, the dirty spoon next to it smearing the surface.
"Mischa," my mom pleaded. "Don't be like this..."
I shook my head, backing out of the kitchen. 'I hate you'. Clenched my teeth to stop the words from spilling out. So fucking immature. And I didn't hate her. We both knew that. But still. I did know that nothing hurt as bad as throwing that in her face. I stomped out to the hallway, my hands shaking as I pulled on my winter jacket, grabbed my bag. Mom stayed behind in the kitchen and I didn't shout anything leaving. I did slam the door behind me though.
Walking down the road I noticed it wasn't just my hands shaking. But my legs too. All of me. My prediction of Tim's demise had been wrong. Completely. The reason he hadn't been around was new work, north of Glen instead of south. To get there in time he couldn't stay over here, get a ride with my mom in the mornings as usual. No he had to stay in his flat all alone. Poor Tim, boo fucking hoo. He didn't even live alone, he lived in some sort of hippie collective and grew carrots in old tires on the balcony or whatever.
It's more convenient, my mom had told me. Like I cared about Tim's convenience. And it'd be far more convenient for me if they didn't date at all, but did anyone care about that? No. If only my mom had just stopped dating until I'd moved out, I wouldn't have had to deal with it. She would still be pretty in a couple of years too, so why the rush? Maybe she was pregnant? I shook my head. No. Nononono. I wouldn't even consider that. It was like her fucking job to know contraception and clinics. To get rid of unwanted kids. Not that she'd ever considered getting rid of me. I shut my eyes tightly. No tears. I would get to school and it would be OK. I would do fine. With some help from my friends. Since my mom couldn't be bothered.
I skipped trough the grove, grabbing on to the trees passing, felt the bark scratching my knuckles. Comforting somehow. The scratching pain in my skin, the knowledge that trees don't care if you're messed up, they just kept growing taller no matter what happens. For a second I longed to be surrounded by them. To lie down and listen to silence. Trace the days back to the beach with Allen, feel the piece of glass in my hand, blue as his eyes. It'll be fine. I told myself, forcing my feet to slow down, my breath to even. You'll go to school and it'll be fine. But instead I heard my dad's voice in the back of my head. You look after you mom and sister for me?
I hadn't. I had failed. Hadn't even managed to look after myself. Now someone else would be looking after them. The seat would be taken if he ever decided to come back. Except my dad had never managed to look after anyone either. And he certainly wasn't coming back now. For I brief moment I wished I had agreed to see him one of those times. Let him see how messed up I'd become. I sped up again, not wanting to be alone with all those dark thoughts. There was no use thinking them over and over again.
But I wasn't sure being around people made me feel any better. Entering the hallway I really missed my jacket. My armor. I wasn't used to feeling like this anymore. The last days of fighting had left me so raw, like I was bruising just from the people bumping into me. And all the talking, all the smells, all the colors flashing in front of my eyes. My mind already overloaded, and the day hadn't even started yet. I steered my steps to Lisa's locker. Hoped her shiny hair and cheerful smile would ease everything. Make me forget. This morning. The last four years. The moment she was within my reach I looped my arm around her, kissed her cheek quickly, but not quickly enough. She caught the look on my face. Cradled my cheeks in her delicate hands. Searching, searching.
"Is something the matter?" I averted my eyes, looked down the length of the hallway.
"Just a bit stressed, about this stuff in English," I lied, leaning my forehead against hers.
"You're doing great," she said encouragingly. "I heard you got praise for the essay..." she said in her soothing sweet way. I swallowed. My hands sweaty, now awkwardly perched on her hips. Heard from where, from who? Paranoia. I didn't want her spying on me with the help of twenty angelic choir girls.
"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, and Lisa interpreted my uneasiness as humbleness. She hugged me tightly, whispering that she was proud of me in my ear. I finally got to hid my face in her hair, but to keep myself from snorting, scowling. Keep the mess from forming into words, and forcing their way out. Because seriously. Who could be proud of this? I quickly pushed the thought away. No negative thinking. But her shiny hair didn't light my mood the way it usually did, and too soon I made up, another lie, another excuse to leave. Not a good sign. I wasn't doing great. Far from it.
I fiddled with my bag continuing down the hallway. Fucking Tim, ruining fucking everything. And why now? Why did he have to go change jobs when I finally was getting some of my shit together? The last days after coming back from the beach had actually been great. Just Friday I'd been smoking with Allen behind my usual corner, snorting with laughter as he imitated the somewhat crazy Spanish teacher. Not caring if Lee or anyone else saw us. Feeling the fizzy bubbly happiness as he huffed in exasperation and listed verbs on his fingers much like Mr. Haynes was known to do. My smile so wide it'd felt like my face would split in two. Now the memory only served to make me anxious. Actually, only thinking of speaking to Allen made want to curl up and hide for the rest of the day. I didn't want him around feeling like this. The person I'd been with him on the beach was miles away.
I saw Adam's familiar jacket in the stream of people, but there wasn't any consolation to be found there either as I told him about the weekend and Tim's moving in plans.
"Yeah, now you know what it's like for me all the time," Adam he just muttered. Asshole. Sure I knew Ade wasn't the incarnation of consideration but still. Bastard.
"Fucking whatever then," I muttered, feeling myself retracting even further as Jason arrived by his side. I'd been good ,but right now I really needed to get out. With or without Ade and his new piece of shit friend. And since none of them seemed very eager when I asked it would have to be without. Get lost with the trees as my only company. Which was a fucking hippie thought but whatever. The bell rang and I made up my mind. I'd go to the first period. If I could manage one period, I could managed two and lunch and the afternoon. I'll be fine, I mumbled to myself steering my steps to the classroom. Learned thoughts. With my un-cooperating mind being my own cheer leader was a necessity.
As soon I entered Allen turned to smile at me from his regular seat in the front. The last days I'd smiled back easily. Now I just couldn't, and Allen turned back looking confused. Whatever. I sat down next to Mel, who was apparently too busy with her phone to great me. Fine by me. Because it had arrived in full force. The anxiety. The crippling paralyzing kind. I pulled out my notebook, just to press my pen into my desk, making it unusable. I stole another from Mel as she wasn't looking. I wrote my name over and over. I'd always had a nice handwriting. When I cared to use it. And then suddenly my dad's name. Though nowadays I didn't think of him as dad. Or Rob. The few times I thought about him, I thought about him in the terms of bastard. Something I'd learned from Adam, not from mom.
I stopped forming letters and instead crossed out all the names I'd written. Heavy black lines. So heavy they ghosted the next page. And the page after that. I closed my notebook, my whole body itching. I wouldn't make it. I had to get out. Now. I put the borrowed pen in front of Mel without a word, got up and slung my bag over my shoulder. I heard Mr. Paterson, the English teacher calling after me but I just kept going, not looking back. Didn't dare opening my mouth to try and reply. Only curses and un-cried tears lodged in the back of my throat. My feet automatically carrying me to the library, to mine and Trish hideout. I sat down, curled up on the couch, let my head fall back against the cushions. I'd just hide here during the break. And maybe a period or two. And lunch. Or maybe the whole day. Hopefully Trish would show up, calm the itch. Tell me to not be such a baby.
I soon heard the slams of lockers, the sounds of streams of people moving. And there was steps coming my way. But too quiet ones to be Trish. A peek behind my bangs confirmed that it was instead Allen who'd arrived, lingering by the other armrest. Great. I didn't want him around when I felt like I was about to come undone. I realized how fragile my whole new life was. It only took the smallest thing for me to crack, and then it all fell apart. I would prefer it not happening in front of everyone though. Especially Allen. Like what was there to say? You know how you wanted to get to know me, and maybe I started to seem normal, but you don't know me and I'm still seriously messed up.
"Are you stalking me?" I sneered instead, smiling slightly like it was a joke.
"Right now, yeah maybe," Allen laughed a little. Sat down at the other end of the couch. Instead of going away like I silently begged him to.
"It's just I saw you and I thought I mean, are you OK?" The worst question of them all. My face tensing up. Even worse scrunching up. The inevitable. A big tear escaped, rolling past my nose, falling almost audible on my leg. A dark damp spot on my jeans.
"Hey," Allen mumbled, and he might have inched closer, but his presence felt miles away. Because it was always like that. No one could deal. Even if you thought they might, they couldn't. The second I failed keeping myself together, felt like breaking inside, I was on my own. Alone with my messed up mind. I stopped myself from sniveling like a fucking pathetic loser. Stopped myself from thinking about leaning my head against his shoulder and smelling all the goodness of the world hidden in his neck and somehow just knowing that things would be OK. Or him telling me they would. Because he wouldn't. And I wouldn't be.
"I need to get some stuff," I shot up from the couch and almost succeeded in disappearing behind the bookshelves before Allen had time to react. Almost.
"Hey, you want me to come with you?" Allen asked, getting up himself.
"No," I mumbled. "I just need to get my stuff..." And get away from Allen and his blue eyes and kind hands and whatever promises they might hold.
"OK. But I could see you at lunch if you want? Here? I'll just grab something to eat real fast..."Allen said keenly and I nodded as I started walking towards the library exit. Nodded, not because I would be there. But because it was easier. Head low I got my jacket from my locker. Avoided Kat and Leo in the hallway. Passed the class room door I was supposed to enter, pushed through the heavy glass doors. I wasn't fine. I didn't make it.
I kept on walking like on autopilot trough the center. My feet knowing exactly where they were going. I had some places I usually ended up at, when I didn't end up in Ade's basement. Most of them were hidden in the Highland Park. Walking, my thoughts wandered again to the empty chair by our kitchen table when he'd left. It had been empty so often also when he officially still lived with us, but then it had had such a finality to it. It would never be occupied again. Or so I had thought. For such a long while it had been only us three. And the empty chair. I shook my head. I should be happy for my mom, I should be. Why couldn't I be? What didn't it matter if the chair stood there empty or was occupied by Tim? My dad wasn't coming back either way. And I didn't want him back either. I didn't want him back.
One of the tracks leading into the park in front of me and I started running to the words drumming in my head. Like a rhyme, like the solid hum of a train. I don't want him back. I don't want him back. I left the main path, my feet beating down on of the less used tracks. Slimy leaves hiding gnarly roots. Broken branches poking my arms. I don't want him back. The faster I ran, the easier it became to breathe. To blink away the memories surfacing. The phone calls and the money sent and the visits refused. The feeble attempts at making amends. Trying to keep in contact. If he really cared, he would've tried harder. One of my darkest thoughts in my mind.
I stopped at the top of the hill, a sharp pain in my side. Spat onto the ground. Chased away the dark thoughts, because they didn't even make sense. Trying hard didn't mean you'd succeed. Hey, I tried, I always fucking tried, and this was too often how I ended up. A quitter, a loser, all fucked up. Because I was a fuck up, just like him. I leaned my hands on my knees, the air bitingly cold in my lungs. My throat hurting, but the tears had dried out from the running. Turned into sweat or some other gross bodily fluids. Gross. The whole process of living disgusted me sometimes. Feeling my heart beating in my chest. My lungs filling up with air. All so fucking random and unpredictable. At least if you were dead, you were dead. Something constant. Unchanging. You didn't have to worry about you heart ceasing. Or feel the looming possibility that you could quit for good. I scratched my left arm vigorously, before resuming my running that soon turned into walking. Aimless wandering. Both my feet and my thoughts.
My phone buzzed around 5.30. My mom. I didn't answer. Another call a couple of minutes later, but I didn't answer that either. Trust my mom to turn the world upside down and shake it if I went missing for more than two hours. Like I still was six years old. I tried to ignore the fact that she had her reasons. I knew she was torn between worry and annoyance. Knew she would start calling people eventually. Start picking names from the list taped to the fridge. I also knew should get home before that, but I didn't feel much like it. And I'd thankfully refused ten thousand times to give her Lis' number.
It got darker quickly as the sun started to set. I didn't mind. I yeah, I was scared of many things, but never the dark. The cold was worse. And the rain that started to fall. Mom called again some hours later. Then Trish. Then Kat. I was sure she'd called Ade too, but at least he had the decency to leave me alone. Then Allen. I cursed my own stupidity writing up his name. Then mom again. Whatever. I did feel a pang of guilt. If she'd called Allen, she had to be kinda desperate. But I still kept on wandering. Strayed from the electrically lit path where I'd already frightened a female jogger with my all-black-appearance. Carefully stepped over stones and tufts to step out right into the woods.
The lights from the path fading behind me and I let myself fall down onto the ground. Felt a couple of water drops on my face falling from the pine trees above. The roots poking into my shoulder. The damp cold quickly creeping trough my allegedly water-proof jacket. Into the bone. I closed my eyes, thought of skeletons found all alone in the woods at some archaeological dig, carefully brushed and cleaned before exhibited. He must've been a warrior, excited archaeologists would exclaim. Or lost his way from his tribe, or a scout sent out to secure the way. I snorted. Like what the fuck did they know? Maybe he was just some messed-up annoying kid who got tired of living. Did people get tired of living three thousand years ago? Or had they been too busy trying to survive?
The eyes of the excited archaeologists shining. Bones can tell you so much! No, they can't tell you shit. Can't tell you what a person loved or hated or feared. Didn't that matter a lot more than what they ate, what they wore and their worn out shoulder joints? How many teeth they had left? I swept my uneven ones with my tongue. I had good teeth. Maybe they'd be there three thousand years ahead. But I certainly wouldn't. I swept my hand over the velvety moss underneath me. Not even three thousand years needed, in only a hundred years earth would cover me, cover everyone I knew. Everyone I cared about. Military cemeteries in my mind, white crosses for miles. So many dead already, so many people left to die. Would there even be room to bury us all? Archeological digs in the future, more bones than earth. My phone buzzed in my pocket interrupting the visions of spades hitting stacked skeletons in my mind. Allen again. What was wrong with him? The phone stopped buzzing, just to start over again a minute later. Like an annoying alarm clock set on snooze. I surprised myself by clicking the green button. Maybe I just finally wanted someone to know I was still alive. Stop dwelling on death.
"Hey, where are you?" Allen's words eagerly tumbling out.
"Hey," I said shortly. Already regretting answering.
"So, where are you? Your mom's really worried." I snorted.
"Matthew, please just tell me where you are, and I'll come pick you up, ok?"
"What the fuck do you care?" I muttered.
"I care." Allen answered simply. Softly. I squeezed my eyes shut. Why did he have to sound so fucking honest all the time? Why did it always make me cave in?
"I'm in the Highland Park. By the lake." Or I would be soon, if I just continued straight ahead.
"Don't go anywhere," Allen said resolutely and hung up. Fucker.
I scrambled to my feet, the damp from the ground caused my shirt to cling to my back. My limbs stiff and cold. A few steps ahead confirmed I'd been right. I could see the trees halting, abruptly giving way to unkempt grass, clusters of dried naked stems. Feathery petals and thistle seedpods. Skeletons of the summer's flowers. The lake lay covered in darkness, absorbing the faint bluish light sifting in from the path behind me. I'd been here a lot as a kid, when the Highland lake still had been a usual summer outing, at times when the ocean had felt too far away. But then someone had claimed to have seen a snake in the water one year, which scared off a lot of the kids and their families. And the lake was left to the supposed snakes and teens daring each other to go swim across it. There was still a rickety jetty and a graveled lake road reaching through park. No idea if Allen would find it though. If he was coming even. I half-fell, half-sprinted down the hillside to the waterside. Walked out on the jetty.
I sat down and immediately wished I hadn't. It was as damp and cold as it looked. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, not that it helped. Dangled my feet over the edge, a couple of tiny waves licking the tip of my shoes. My jeans completely darkened with the rain. Now and then a drop trickling down my face. It did help. It actually did. The anxiety subsided. My thoughts didn't run around like crazy anymore, didn't jump out from dark corners to catch me of guard. You're doing fine, I mumbled to myself, and actually almost believed it. It would be better tomorrow.
A movement in the corner of my eye. Someone was walking down the hill. Red anorak, and blue jeans. Not even stupid health freaks went for a walk now. I turned back to the gray lake as I heard footsteps on the slippery wood. Allen sat down beside me, his hair and most of his face covered by the hood of his jacket. But of course it was him.
"Not the easiest place to find this," he commented, like I'd asked him to come around to hang out. Like I hadn't cracked in his presence, like I hadn't lied to him, like my mom hadn't called him all concerned. "So, are we leaving?" He tilted his head and actually smiled. Seriously, what would it take to scare him away? For him to get mad? And why was I thankful for the fact that he didn't seem to be?
"Just a minute," I mumbled. Allen sighed lightly, dangling his feet next to mine. And I let myself enjoy the silence and the trees and his comforting presence and the strange feeling that it might be nice to have someone to share things with sometimes. Just as I thought I was getting used to the cold the wind increased and it became almost unbearable again. Allen shifted beside me. "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing my butt off here. Let's go."
"It's great here during the summer," I said almost longingly, still watching the rough, rain-battered surface of the lake.
"You'll have to show me then." There was hint of a smile in Allen's voice and he touched my shoulder. "Geez, Matt, you're like ice! C'mon!" He stood up and pulled me with him abruptly. A wonder we didn't both ended up in the water. And even through multiple layers of clothes his hand on my arm caused my skin to crawl and itch.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I snapped before I could stop the words. The hurt look on Allen's face felt like a strange mix of a reward and a punishment. I did know how to scare him away. But maybe I didn't want to. Too late. He backed away with his hands held up before turning his back to me. Heavy steps on the wooden planks. Wow, thanks. This was a fucking strange way of showing that he cared. And what choice did it leave me with? Running after him to apologize? Or jump into the lake and freeze to death? If the snakes didn't get me first. The thought made me snort but I felt hot tears burn in the back of my throat. Why did everything have to be so complicated? But no. I wouldn't cry. Never in front of anyone. Especially not Allen. Especially not now. A sob threatened to emerge, and I swallowed quickly, following silently after Allen as he trudged up the hill to reach the road.
I did feel somewhat relieved as we slipped into his car and he turned on the heat full blast. I could focus on trying to get some warmth back into my frozen limbs. Avoid Allen and the way he looked at me too intensely. But not for long.
"Take that off," Allen nodded to my jacket.
"Why?" I looked on suspiciously as he untied the hood and pulled it down. "What are you doing?"
"Saving you from pneumonia," he answered, unzipping his jacket. I didn't get it. This picture in my head of us two cuddling together like ants during winter. Getting hospitalized and cough for weeks seemed way more appealing. I still reluctantly unzipped my jacket, shrugged it off. My fingers so cold I barely could pull down the zipper. Allen hand ghosting over my arm for a second. "That too." I pulled off my hoodie obediently. Grateful I had a long-sleeved shirt underneath. This was already awkward and embarrassing enough.
While I'd pulled of my hoodie Allen unzipped his jacket as well, pulled his gray sweater over his head, curls on all end, crackling with static. And then there were the freckles. I wanted to tell him I didn't really feel like sharing body heat but I couldn't find the words. And that was obviously not going to be needed anyways, since he quickly donned his own jacket again and handed the sweater to me. A warm gray cloud smelling like Allen in my hands. I pulled it on as fast as I could, my fingers still not fully obeying me. A soft swhoosh over my head as he swept his dark blue knitted scarf over my shoulders. My throat instantly burning again.
"Warmer?" Allen inquired and I nodded. Leaned my head against the window. Felt what was left of my tough shell cracking, the soft insides exposed, the tears threatening to spill over. 'Don't ask if I'm ok, don't ask if I'm doing fine', I begged internally. Don't don't don't.
It was the worst car ride ever. He could at least have the decency to put on some music or radio or whatever but no. Only tense silence. After a couple of minutes I almost wished he'd ask me if I was ok. My eyes only seeing lights passing outside the window, blurred by the speed and the rain or my own un-cried tears. I listened with every cell in my body, all nerves on end. Trying to somehow sense if Allen was mad at me. Trying to read him without looking at his wide-open face. Like that was cheating. Like I was afraid of really knowing the answer. My skin prickling. Tiny antennae eagerly awaiting transmission. But there was only static. And the almost unbearable tension. Worst car ride ever. I gave up, rubbing my arms with my clammy hands.
"You still cold?" Allen thankfully asked.
"No, I'm ok." So it wasn't exactly an olive branch, but at least he said something. I dared a quick glance at him from the corner of my eye. Too quick to do any face-reading.
"You didn't have to come get me..." My voice sounded pitifully small.
"No worries." A sudden smile in my direction. "I wasn't doing anything worthwhile so...and your mom sounded really worried, so I figured, uhm, she said you usually, or that you'd been-" He halted, and I felt a sinking feeling in my already ice-cold insides. She couldn't have told him? She wouldn't. The tears burned brighter. Tear of anger now. Trust her to go all over-sharing. Fuck it. Fuck sharing altogether. I didn't want to share anything ever. Especially with someone like Allen. Just because he'd slapped some kid too hard at a religious school, he thought he was so fucking street-smart and cool smoking with his little tattooed bisexual friend or whatever. Like he knew anything about being a fucking outcast your whole life.
"You don't know shit about me or my family or anything." I snapped heatedly, mushing my face against the window again.
"You don't know shit about me either." Allen replied surprisingly coldly. I snorted. I knew enough. Just the fact that he was here told me all I needed to know. He was so fucking soft-hearted and oblivious. Believing in a good world where good people did good things and were rewarded in an afterlife. He cared? He probably only came around to earn fucking Christian brownie points. Not like I cared either. Everything had been easier before he decided to show up. I pulled the scarf tighter around my face, sternly refusing to blink until I saw the familiar white blur of my own house. Undoing my seatbelt I resisted the urge to glance at Allen's face again, to find out if all my listening had been right. Like I fucking care either way. Instead I gathered my clothes and ducked out of the car, slamming the door after me. Seemed fitting to start and end the day the same way.
My mom flew to her feet the moment I entered the house. We stared at another for a moment both torn between wanting to continue shouting at each other and hug like we hadn't seen each other for years. My mom crumbled first. As usual. She hugged me so tight I had trouble breathing. Or maybe it was me hugging her back.
She let go for a second glancing confounded at my damp hair and Allen's dry sweater. "Allen came pick me up", I mumbled. The look she gave me I couldn't decipher.
"Why you look like that? You called him and since he's so nice you made him go find me."
My mom just kept looking at me strangely.
"No I didn't," she said honestly, "I called Adam and you weren't there, then Trisha and she said she hadn't seen you all day," she paused, "and then the other girls were with her, so then I thought maybe you were with him..." There was guilt barely hidden on her face. And then I knew. I had been betrayed.
"You told him?" I shouted disbelievingly, wringing myself free. "You fucking told him? Like the only person that I felt almost fucking normal with. Wow, thanks a lot!" He would never talk to me again that was for sure.
"I didn't tell him anything he hadn't figured out himself!" My mom countered. "What was I supposed to do then? I didn't know where you were, you could've been in DC already for what I knew or-", she stopped herself, "I didn't mean to tell him, it's just he seems more mature and it just slipped...I didn't ask him to go look for you, I just asked him to call...Mischa," she tried to reach for my hand but I pulled away.
Yeah, whatever." I snorted. "Really, thanks mom." No wonder he came around. Thinking you were saving someone's life probably earned you a fuckload of brownie points. Maybe even a life's worth.
"Well, thank you my wonderful son for making me think you might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere, thanks a lot!" My mom said sharply, eyes ablaze. My turn to crumble. Yeah, she was right. I was probably the least wonderful son known to mankind. The least grateful one too. The tears too hot to keep in.
"I'm sorry, I would never do it. I promised, I would never and I won't. I won't." My voice faltering and my mom pulled me towards her again.
"There, there," she soothed, brushing my damp hair from my forehead. Looked me in the eyes so seriously. "I can never be sure, Mischa, I can never risk it, you understand?"
My mind kept forming apologies, but my mom hushed me. "Daragoy, we don't need to decide anything now, or even this month. Let's go to sleep, I need to be up early tomorrow. And you look like you could use some hot tea."
Like on cue I sneezed.
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Thanks for reading! Vote/comment if you liked it! And go listen to Radiohead's 'There,there' since I listened to it so many times while writing/thinking about this chapter and it's amazing! (Just 'cause you feel it, doesn't mean it's there...)