Chapter 6
And now, we get to Richard. It took so long to get to him, and I wished it had come sooner. I wished he smiled a moment earlier, or had looked at me, before anything else. I do wish that, so deeply, so utterly deeply.
But don't tell him I said that, you haven't even met him yet.
I found a kind of messenger bag in one of the few brown boxes left in my room, that I have left to be unpacked eventually. It was purple. I took books I had bought, thick text books about different kind of maths and sciences, reading and writing. I took two notebooks and some folders. I grabbed pens and pencils and took that too. I had no idea what to expect from the nameless boy, but I took what I figured I could work with.
School that day was terrible, with the giggling and staring. Today though, people came up to me, laughed at me, asked me why I was so strange. I don't know why I'm so strange, why don't you explain it to me. They didn't like that answer.
I got home, packed things up, and walked towards the address I was given. My mother finally found a job, I don't know what, maybe she stood on the corner every night, but she was out of my hair now. Out of my hair until I get home and being called out.
I walked down the street with my bag around my shoulder and looking around at the grey sky that made everyone sad and the streets where kids without shoes played and laughed at everything that rushed by. I didn't understand their happiness. I don't have much of that anymore.
Especially since I had to wear another pair of shoes, my only other pair.
This family lived on the other side of Liverpool, which is great because of how I really wanted to walk through this city to get to a house and a crazy family. I assumed they were crazy because of how everyone that lived there was crazy.
I walked away, for the money, and for the maybe peace that I could get from my family, and from my life.
The house was white, a bright white that almost seemed to stick out dramatically. I checked the number of the house and nodded to make sure I wasn't too far off from the address I as given. The house seemed very small, which didn't surprise me from what I've heard from the little conversations about this side of the town.
I walked up the sidewalk path to the front door and knocked four times. Four seemed like a nice number, so it is the number I chose.
I waited and waited and waited some more. Then the door opened, a white door opened ,and stood there someone slightly taller than myself. He looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Hm...I don't know, I didn't know then, but I know now.
"Hello," I looked straight into his blue eyes, bright blue eyes he had. They were strange, and they seemed tired and sad. I never have seen eyes like these, and I just kept staring, wondering what they might say to me, if he blinks enough.
I opened my mouth to speak but I never did. The words just wouldn't come out. I couldn't utter a sound.
Elise suddenly appeared next to him, with a large smile. This was her son, and he was about an inch, taller than me, but just barely. This was Richard.
"Richard meet Miss. Danielle Montgomery, who will be helping you out now," She smiled with the bright red lips, and Richard looked at me, and not at his mother.
"You can call me Dewey," I told him. She nodded a bit, and looked at Richard, who looked right back at my eyes. This is kind of strange, people don't look me in the eyes anymore, even if I do for them. What was he thinking?
"Dewey? Why Dewey?"
"Why not?" I shrugged a bit, that would always be my answer. He smiled at me, slightly showing his teeth and getting slight wrinkles around his mouth. It wasn't a full smile, I could tell for sure, but it was still something. It was real. Hm...
"Haha... well why don't you come in and Richard will show you around." She stepped back, grabbing his side and pulling him too because seemingly he didn't want to move. I looked down and walked past him, into the small home of theirs.
It was a nice house, the decorations were matching so it seemed nice enough. There was a a living space to the right, a dining room in front with a small four person table, and then a kitchen in the next room over. There were stairs on the right wall, that lead up to the next floor with most likely bedrooms and bathrooms.
"Honey, who is it?" A man, looked up from his seat in the living room, while reading the newspaper I believe, or some kind of paper related to news. At first I thought he would be Richard's father, but he didn't look like him. Richard had a large nose, this man didn't, and neither did his mother. Maybe he was just the odd one out.
"This is Dewey, the tutor for Richard I told you about," He smiled and nodded.
"Nice to meet you Ms. Dewey," He smiled and looked down. Richard didn't say anything and I just nodded in a welcome. I looked around some more, and noticed the pictures around here. I walked over to one, of a young man with a similar smile.
"Is that you?" I asked.
"Yes," Richard answered me, knowing I asked him and only him, "Do you like the photo? Ms. Montgomery?"
"I don't know yet, I'll let you know someday," He nodded and stood behind me. I turned around to the three pairs of eyes staring at me.
"Are you going to show me around?" I asked him, looking at his eyes. He blinked a bit, and nodded. His mother smiled again. I guess this was going well for her. I don't know really. This wasn't at all, what I expected. He wasn't at all, what I expected.
He waved for me to follow, and he led me up the stairs of the house. I followed, because of the money, I think I did. His hair bounced a bit, being curled in the front like ever other boy's and he had a slight beard, pencil like really. His hair was a brown color, dark, not as light as mine is.
He lead me around a bit of a corner, and into a room, that I guess was his. It had a record player, a small bed, a window out to the front of his home, a large dresser with clothes sticking out, and a picture on the wall.
Its was some girl, with his arm around her. They were smiling, they seemed happy. But I knew my smiles, and his was not like it is now. That smile just seemed so plastic on his face. This girl was pretty, much nicer than me, I wondered who she could be. I wondered why she was on his wall, and why she got such an honor.
"Who is this?" I pointed at the picture. Richard stopped and turned around, looking at the photo and he sighed quietly.
"She was my girl for a year and last night I came home, saw her in front of my door, and told her I didn't want to see her anymore. She cried," His voice was so monotone, like it didn't really matter. Like he was just telling me what happened, and that it had no impact on him at all. That was really strange.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I'll let you know someday," I looked around some more, and noticed something even stranger than the picture itself.
"Why do you have that boot there?" I asked him, realizing too many things at once but showing none of it on my face.
"A girl left it behind, and I really want to know who she is, but I don't think I ever will," Richard shrugged though it meant much more to him than he was letting on at the moment. It was a lot more, I could tell in his shrug.
"Did she cry when she saw the boot?"
"No, she cried when I told her it belonged to a girl with beautiful eyes,"
"And she knew it wasn't her?"
"She knew it wasn't her," I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and decided to not tell him. Maybe he just wouldn't ever notice. I hoped he would never notice. Somehow though, I would have to get my favorite boot back.
"Hm..." I held onto my bag and looked back over at Richard. He smiled a little at me, like a warm welcome, "So where do you want to..um..begin?" He realized where he was and shrugged a bit about it.
"Probably at the dinning table, so my mother can listen," I nodded, and waved him to lead the way back to where ever he wanted me to be. Where ever his mother wanted us to be. I followed in suit, looking at the two other doors and noticing how their where exactly what I thought, bed and bath .
Down the stairs, around the corner and there was a table as I've seen before. His mother and the man that wasn't his father sat, chatting quietly. She smiled at me once, and her smile was like Richard's.
Richard pulled the chair out for me, with a bit of a smile again, half smile, kind of, and I took the seat, trying to thank him with a nod, and he sat next to me. I began to dig through my bag, but speaking to him as I do so.
"Ok, I need to know what you know, so I can help you," I pulled out a couple books, a few pencils, and some paper.
"I can read and write ok," I stopped for a moment, and looked through my bag some more, and found a book I liked to read once in a while. I picked it up and flipped through the pages some until I found something for him to read.
"Read this, and tell me what it means, not what it's talking about, but what it means beneath the words on a page," He raised a long eyebrow at me, and took the book out of my hands, and into his much larger hands. He read out loud.
"What traitors books can be! You think they're backing you up,...and...and they turn on you. Others c-an use them, too, and there you are, lost in the middle of the, um, moor, in a great wel-ter of nouns and verbs and adjec, adjectives," I nodded, and waited for him to explain it to me quickly. He looked at me, with blue eyes, and back.
"What the writer says, um, yeah, he says that you can't trust what you read and that sometimes the words say one thing and you think you know what's going on but you turn the page and it's not right anymore," I nodded again, and gave him some paper.
"That was good, now write it, but in the way of a short essay, maybe 10 sentences, yes?" He set the book to the side, and took the paper, and looked at it for a while, thinking about writing but not sure yet. He scratched the side of his head a bit, and looked back at me.
"I'm not that good, you see," I just waved him on.
"I'll wait all day, just write," I was willing to wait. Actually it sounded pretty nice to wait all day, to not have to go home. I would be completely fine with that. Richard looked at the paper, and at his pencil. Obviously, he wasn't used to this. I took my own pencil and flipped it between my fingers, waiting for him.
"I don't know how to start..." He scratch the side of his head, and shrugged slowly, and I felt like, he was actually trying. I guess probably his mother was there, and she wanted him to try.
"Start with what you are going to talk about, but don't say it like that, just say it as though you want me to read it, you want the world to read it," He looked at me, so stupidly confused, and back at the paper, "Like I said, I'll be waiting all night if I have to,"
"Um, alright," I waited, watching the way he bent far over the table and stared at the paper, waiting for something that probably wasn't ever going to happen. He just looked and looked, and thought about it some, and looked some more.
I nearly waited all fucking night. He refused to get up until he finished. It was 10 sentences, that's all but I guess he took me rather seriously. I waited anyway, his mother quickly made something for him and me, and that was nice of her I guess, since I've known her for five days. That was better than my mother could have done.
I ate it, thanked her and waited some more.
When he finally wrote the last word on the paper, it was 9:30 that night, and I had things to do, like read, and think, but I sighed and read the paper anyway. I read it because I was stupid enough to wait for that long, and for having the one guy that actually tried.
I read it. The grammar wasn't wonderful, and his handwriting needed work, but he got the point across. It was much better than I thought it would be. I looked at him, and he looked back at me.
"Not bad, I'll see you tomorrow," I started to pack up the things I brought, realizing how little I needed for him, for that day. But obviously, he needed so much work. I dragged a hand through my hair, and pushed the glasses up the bridge of my nose.
"Oh, um could I walk you home?" He used a cheesy smile to try to get me to say yes. I figured it might actually be smart, seeing I probably need at least one male not trying to kill my reputation, or me, or both.
"I guess?" I shrugged and went for the door, and he rushed after me quickly, for whatever reason. Oh yes, for me.
I walked forward, and he walked next to me, hands in pockets. His walk was quiet, while mine was loud and clunky as I put every pound of my weight into my walk. It's just something I did, and I don't know why.
"You are a little strange you know?" He told me.
"Yes I know, you are a little strange too," I replied, without looking over.
"Are you American?"
"Are you British?" I retorted quickly.
"Haha," He scratched the side of his head, "Where in America?"
"Places. It doesn't really matter, I'm here now." I moved my bag some, so it would feel more comfortable to me.
"Why do you talk like that?" it was sad, because it was such a real question. He really didn't know why.
"Why not?"
"You make me laugh," He smiled and chuckled slightly, "Because you are not like any bird I've ever met," I raised an eyebrow and looked over at him, at his smile of wonder. God, I truly had an affect on this child. In more ways than one.
"What about the bird and that boot?" I wasn't sure if I was changing the subject or not. He thought I did, so I decided, then, I was.
"Oh, I hope to find her someday,"
"Why?"
"So I can find out her name," His voice seemed so happy, I guess he really was happy.
"Understand the importance of names Mr. Richard," I don't think he got that, but he just smiled. I just let him smile.