20 July; Saturday
"I met Autumn today," I declare.
July and I are pretending that the conversation last night never happened. July seems to like doing that after everytime he has a breakdown, and I think I prefer it that way, too. But it hasn't left my mind for once.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how learning something like that about him is so surprising. I think I imagined July to be this perfect and kind person who just happened to unintentionally hurt the girl he loves. But like every human being, near and far, he is as imperfect as the rest of us.
That is a relief.
July's head snaps away from the book. After crying over the fact that he couldn't finish Giovanni's Room before Mom randomly decided to throw it away, he finally picked up The Kite Runner Dale bought for me.
"Oh my God. Did you guys kiss?"
"Stop that." I roll my eyes. He gets so annoying about these things.
"No no, tell me what happened!"
"Nothing happened. She was waiting for me outside school. She just told me she is gonna sing the whole evening on Thursday and also sing a song she wrote herself in that cafe so if I can, I should come."
Today, her wavy black hair was hanging loose, reaching a little below her shoulders. She was wearing a dark gray Oasis t-shirt and pink shorts with black boots, a brown guitar case hanging from her shoulder. She certainly looked different under the sunlight than the artificial light of the café.
July claps once and says, "It's a date!"
"It's an invitation."
"For a date!"
I throw him a scowl and lie down, putting the blanket over my waist. "I'm kind of not sure about her anymore?"
"Why not? Because of the apple?"
I shake my head. "Nah. Though I was excited to meet her again, when I actually did, I didn't feel anything special. As I said, it was just a momentary thing. There were some times in the past when I would feel like I have a crush on someone only for it all to disappear within like, three days. It's weird, I don't know. Or maybe I'm just not good at figuring out my feelings."
"Awh, that sucks." He closes the window as the rain becomes heavier outside. "Oh wait, no it doesn't." He flashes me a grin and says, "It means that my Cedgar ship is still on voyage!"
I take my leg out of the blanket and kick his stomach. But he doesn't stop. Clasping his hands together, he says, like an actor in a Shakespeare play, "Oh Edgar, I thought you had AIDS!" Then he satisfyingly puts his hands over his heart with a dreamy look on his eyes. "Top 10 most romantic lines ever spoken."
And this is the boy who killed himself using the name of his twin brother just for revenge.
I sigh in utter dismay. "Will you stop that?"
"What's wrong with Autumn, though? She's cute. Is it because she doesn't have short hair?"
"No." I laugh. "That short hair thing was just a . . . I don't know, it's just a stupid thing." It is embarrassing to tell him that my first love is the one who shaped my mind in a way that only seems to accept short haired girls. But I've never actually felt anything for anyone to confirm whether it's really an important criteria or not.
"Your first love?" July cups his cheeks with his hands. "Holy cow, who's your first love?!"
I kick him again. "You're not allowed to read my mind!"
He grabs my legs tightly and says, "Aw come on, it's the only power I can openly use with you!"
I frown. "Hmm? What do you mean? You have other powers?"
He blinks in realization. "Ah, yeah I do."
He never told me that. "What are they?"
"Eh, not important. You're trying to dodge my question, aren't you? Question of the day, who's your first love?"
"What the- that's-!" That's not exactly cheating, but . . .
"That's what, Little Buddy 1?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
"It's you. You are my first love."
"Huh? But I don't have short ha- wait, I actually do." For a moment, he actually looks shocked. Then he turns to normal and says, "Come on, I know it's not me. You are obliged to answer."
Sighing, I give up. I take out Norwegian Wood from under my pillow and hold out the back cover, where the summary of the book is written, to him.
"The impetuous young woman named Midori," I say, reciting a line from the summary, "is my first love."
July looks from the book to me, and then snickers. He quickly covers his mouth with his hands to hold in the laughter.
"I knew it!" I kick him hard this time, making him knock over on his side, which makes him burst into a fit of laughter. "Fuck off, don't ever talk to me again."
"Cedar, you're like the most adorable thing to ever walk on earth!" He says, in between laughs.
"Shut up. Dawn never laughed at this."
"Oh I'm pretty sure he did. Just not in front of you."
"Ugh." It sucks that he might be right. I hug the other pillow and pretend to be mad at him.
"Okay, okay, don't be mad. So this, um, Midori? Yeah, this Midori has short hair? That's why you like girls with short hair?"
"It was like . . . it's hard to explain. I read this book on the internet when I was twelve, mainly because I knew it's kind of an adult book. Anyways, I loved Midori's character with my all. She came in so abruptly, and the way she talked was just so enjoyable. I became obsessed with her. One of the main reason why I read this book so many times is because of her. Since I was still young, this love I had for her shaped my mind into thinking that only short-haired girls can be as funny and weird as Midori. So she became my ideal type, my standard. I started thinking that if it isn't a girl with a pixie haircut, I would never be able to like her. So from then I only started noticing girls with short hair. But I don't think I've ever felt anything for them beyond the haircut."
July bursts into another fit of hysterical laughter, shaking his head. "Oh my God. This is so cute. I can't."
"Shut up!"
"Ahh." He wipes his tears and then grabs the pillow from me. Placing it beside mine, he lies down. "Damn, that was a good laugh."
"You're so evil."
"That I am, sweetheart."
"Ugh."
"Anyways, what's your question?"
"Hmm . . . I guess I don't have any for today . . . oh, right, I was wondering about your opinion on something, actually."
"Ooh, about what?"
"When Autumn came to meet me, Edgar was pretty worried that Alex would feel hurt or something. I told him that she won't, because she likes him. And he said that it is of course possible for her to fall in love again. Do you think that too? Is it really possible to fall in love with someone a second time? Or more, for that matter?"
I don't know a thing about love, but perhaps he will. He has fallen once, after all.
He crosses his hands under his head, his lips puckering up in thought. Finally he says, "I think it differs from person to person. There can be categories. Some people can never move on from their first love, and their hearts forever remain with only one person, whether that person can give it back to them or not. So they keep loving this one person till the end of time. They belong to the first category.
"While for others in the second category, though it might be hard, starting anew with fresh feelings stands as a possibility, and if the right person comes, they will perhaps fall again, as deep as the first one. That doesn't make their second or third or more love any less sincere than the previous ones."
"Hmm." I nod understandingly. That makes sense. "I asked Dawn the same question once. He only replied 'I don't know if it is really possible, but I hope it is.' I didn't really get what he meant. I suppose love stands as a mystery my mind can never comprehend."
July raises one of his hands straight towards the ceiling and starts moving his fingers as though he is casting a magic spell. His eyes remain on the fingers, but seem distant nonetheless. "The biggest mysteries in this world are human emotions. Whether it's our own emotion or someone else's, more often than not, we fail to figure it out."
I observe him closely. I wonder if what he just said holds any special meaning.
I look at his side profile. In about twenty-nine days from now, I will never see it again. The thought is accompanied with such a terrible sinking feeling, that I have to move a hand to my chest. But that's still a distant future.
Instead, I ask, "Which category do you belong to, July?"
His hand drops to his side. He turns his head to me, his gaze meeting mine in a shocking embrace. The sinking in my heart is replaced by a foreign feeling. His voice nearly in a whisper, he replies, "I don't know. I only know that sometimes, people in the first category move to the second one without even realizing it."
He picks the book and starts reading it from the page he left it on, marking the end of this conversation.
I stare at him for a while, thinking how he threw me into yet another circle.
-------------------
21 July; Sunday
"Apology gift completed, monsieur!" July puts the sketch of me on my lap after I wake up.
It's Sunday today, which is good news. Tomorrow is Pure Maths, which is bad news. I have a feeling I will definitely fail in it. Pure Maths is like an advanced version of the general Maths, so it is harder and trickier and contains more complex equations. There are even some topics which we aren't supposed to learn before univerisity. Only Science students have to take this subject. It is much too hard for people like me, who depend more on memory than logic.
"It's beautiful," I say, taking the sketchbook on one hand and brushing the palm of my other hand over it. In the sketch, my cheek is pressed against the soft pillow, and I am clutching the blanket to my chest. My lips are slightly parted due to my habit of breathing through my mouth. He did a surprisingly good job with my nose this time, but he still missed the mole. Is it really that invisible?
"Thank you so much." Seeing my picture drawn by him fills my heart with an overwhelming happiness. It is such a sweet gesture.
"You're welcome. I'm sorry for leaving you."
"It's okay. But you drew this when I was asleep. Which means you were looking at me like a creep the whole time I was sleeping."
"Yeah, who knows? Maybe I also masturbate on your bed while looking at you when you're sleeping."
"Ugh. You're still on about that?"
"I'll forever rememeber it. It's like the worst assumption anyone has ever made about me."
I shake my head and laugh. I turn back to the drawing. "But really, this is very nice. I love it."
"I'm glad you do. Oh, and I also kept the previous drawing inside. Maybe you can stick it in using glue or something."
"Yeah, okay." I turn to the previous page, where the loose page of the previous drawing is kept. I like that one a lot too. "Hey, where's the drawing of Moon?" I ask him.
"Ah, that." He scratches his temple. "I threw it away."
"Huh? But why?"
"I just . . . I don't know. I want to move on from her. The drawing didn't look completely like her anyway. I have forgotten most of her face. I never imagined I would, but I did."
"Still. I told you to draw what you love. And moving on doesn't mean you have to forget her and stop loving her."
He chuckles. "I know. It's okay. I drew Moon a lot when I was alive. So much that it was almost creepy. But she never loved them as much as you do. I don't have to draw her anymore. It makes me happy seeing how much you like them." He says the last part with a shy chuckle, and I find my face heat up a little.
He thinks about something for a while. Then he asks, "Say, Cedar, you love books, don't you?"
"Hmm? Yep." That is one thing about myself I'm completely sure of. I'm also completely sure that nothing else interests me. Or at least, nothing else I have tried so far in my life.
"Why don't you consider pursuing Literature, then?"
"Literature?" I raise my eyebrows at him. I shake my head. "Mom will stop paying for my education if I even dare to utter the letter L." She has said so herself. If I want to do anything different from what she wants for me, I will have to go out and do it all by myself, without any financial support whatsoever.
He purses his lips upward. "You know, Cedar, I don't think your mom is the only reason why you are reluctant to pursue your dreams."
I stare at him for a while, then I turn my gaze to my lap. I don't know how he sees through me every single time. It's as if the shell that I try to cover myself with is fully transparent to him, and there is no secrets, no emotions, no thoughts that I can hide anymore. It's as if I am always fully naked in front of him, vulnerable and embarrassed. It's not a pleasing feeling, and yet, on the other hand, having someone else voice out the thoughts I try to bury makes things easier for me.
I take a deep breath. "I . . . I'm scared, July."
"Of what, Cedar?"
"I'm scared, that if I follow a different path and end up failing, I will live in regret and shame forever. That my mom will tell me something like 'If only you listened to me', and it would kill me inside. That I would have to ask money from others whenever I'm short of it and everyone's face will crunch up in annoyance at the sight of me. That I won't be able to show my face to anyone in school reunions, having no success stories to tell. I don't want that. I don't . . . want to feel inferior everywhere I go."
He nods. "I understand."
I know he does. I have feeling he has felt the exact same things himself. I look at the sketch he made of me. He has a gift for painting; it only needed to be refined and furnished more through art classes by professionals. Then I'm sure, one day, Hale Castleton would have his own exhibition.
I say, "I just wish that I liked something more . . . I don't know, more convenient in our social standards. If I liked maths, I could have willingly become a professor. If I liked biology, I could have willingly become a doctor. But none of that. I like literature. July, there are too many risks."
Writers lead a life of drugs and sleeplessness. Librarians don't even have enough earning for themselves, especially after the rising popularity of e-books. Editors are more in demand, sure, but they don't have the kind of pay my parents want me to earn either. I can't be a reviewer or a beta reader - I can never read books analytically. I don't have the confidence or required words to have a booktube channel. And what else is there for a Literature student? There aren't many windows, and the ones there are don't overlook to a promising scenery.
"Cedar," July says in a patient tone, "you need to understand that whatever you choose to do, there will be risks of failure. There is no path that will guarantee success. You have a medical degree, but that doesn't mean you will certainly become a rich and famous doctor. But you might. That 'might' is our hope. If you fail, you might as well fail by doing something you love."
Dawn had told me something similar. More than once. I had never paid much attention to his words. I always thought that he doesn't understand my position, so it's easy for him to say. The same doesn't go for July, who has been going through the same thing as me, but in a much worse degree.
"Just look at my case," July says, pointing to himself. "I studied for two years and I still couldn't make it to any university. Why do you think that is? I lost all interest. I could not keep my focus, because I didn't enjoy it. Moreover, I wasted all my energy in studying for my unimportant school exams, and had none left for the most important exam of my life." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Cedar, I don't want you to turn out like me."
Ah, it's what Dale said. 'I'm glad you didn't turn out like me'. He meant a different aspect of me, but whether it's my older brother or the ghost who draws portraits of me, I know both of them don't want me to make the same mistakes as them, or go through the same things as they did.
I wonder, if that is why July made me get closer to Dale.
I nod. "I will think about it."
He smiles. "Great. Anyways, I want to draw something different. Do you have suggestions?"
I think about it. "Don't you draw inanimate objects?"
He shrugs. "I like drawing things with life. Humans, animals, birds . . . Wish I could draw Snow. But I forgot how she looks like as well."
"Snow?"
"My cat. She was like my only friend. She died, though."
I sigh. "That's why I don't take pets. They would die from old age and it would leave me sad."
"She didn't die from old age."
"Hmm? Accident?"
"No." He pauses. "My Mom killed her."
"Wha- why would she do that?" I ask incredulously.
"I have no idea. People like you and me will never understand people like her. Snow was innocent. She should've just killed me instead."
I don't say anything to that. I can't ever imagine how it was like in the Castleton household. I can never imagine what July had to go through during the years he was alive.
"Moon was beautiful," I say, breaking the silence. "Long, black hair. The way you like it."
July lets out a small laugh. "Nah, for me too, the long hair thing was just something influenced by Moon. She was the only one."
"Oh." I suddenly remember something. Grinning, I ask, "Hey, wanna know what Midori thinks of girls with long hair?"
"Huh? There's something like that in the book?"
"Yeah!" I laugh and take the book out. "She really hated girls with long hair. Let me find it and read it to you."
"Hmph, looks like I won't like Midori at all."
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hello people!
so this was more of a filler chapter, as there was a lot to digest in the previous one.
thanks a lot for reading! please take care of your and your family's health. keep smiling and have a wonderful day! ❤
- love, poma