Chapter 9
I was reading to myself, because I enjoyed reading to myself, on a Sunday night. I wasn't really reading though, because my mind was lost somewhere else and wouldn't return home to read a book I actually enjoyed. My mind was lost in what tomorrow was going to be like, Monday being tomorrow. I was almost happy, almost, to see Richard tomorrow.
I don't know why I wanted to see him, it didn't make any sense to me. I hate everyone, most people anyhow, and if there is one thing I didn't want, it was to enjoy someone's company. I just wanted to talk to him I guess, my knight in shinning armor as it is.
Placing the book down, I rubbed my eyes. I knew I was going crazy, so I got up and sat on the bed, closing my eyes to breathe some. I wondered what he was thinking, but I suddenly knew he was thinking about me. Why did I think that? Well, because he was obviously somewhat obsessed with the girl with the brown eyes, me I guess.
I don't know if what he thought I was was the same as what I really am. I actually very much doubt it is the same thing. I bet he remembered some wonderful gal, right? I bet he was horribly disappointed to see me, the girl from his dreams I think. I never thought I could actually be in one's dreams.
I wondered what it was like to be in his dreams. I at first thought he was going to be like any boy, and be so horrible in the dreams, or at least a slight awkwardness. Yet now, I don't think he's got the mind set for that kind of dream. The likely thought is that the dream is just me in general, and nothing more than that. Maybe it's just the eyes the whole time, that would be quiet a dream.
"Land is the only thing in the world that amounts to anything" I sighed to myself, pushing those thoughts off in the end because I knew what it really was. I rubbed my eyes again, because I did that now, for no real reason it seemed, and a rock hit the window.
Not only was it surprising for me to have a rock him my window, but I didn't enjoy it at all. I was pretty mad to have my somewhat peace messed with by someone outside my window. I got up anyway, because another rock was thrown and this rock was obviously bigger than before and left more of a dent.
"What do you want?" I shoved open the window and yelled out at whoever was there, and the person that happened to be there was the last person on the planet. How the living hell did he know which room was mine? I guess the answer was obvious.
"Paul told me you lived here, just thought I should stop by," I rolled my eyes and leaned against the window frame.
"Oh that's great, now what do you want?" John stood, smirk drawn lightly on his face. The dimming sunlight shinned over the house and on parts of his face. I wished I could be talking to someone else, anyone else really, maybe a couple people in particular.
"Oh darling, I just want to talk to you, that's all," Sighing at that, I almost shut the window, "Before you shut that window oh lovely Dewey, I will be here tomorrow, and the next day and the next day. I hope to see you everyday!" I refused to believe him, in anyway. He wouldn't do that.
"I'm sure you would do that to annoy me to an edge. Yet I don't believe you, you crazy British..." I drifted off, feeling bad for thinking that being British made someone horrible because it doesn't. I shut the window, having his voice become muffled and much quieter than before.
"Danielle! Dinner!" My mother shouted up the stairs, and I slightly frowned. I shoved through my bedroom door and down the stairs quickly. My mother smiled elastically at the bottom of the stairs. I went blank faced again, to match her smile, and moved past her.
"I have to tutor Richard again tomorrow," I told her, seeing she may not think so. She nodded quickly, following me into the kitchen.
"Wonderful! He's a nice boy, yes?" Scratching my head, I looked back at her, at her eyes that once where like mine, but have dulled with long age and terrible luck. She hoped things that wouldn't happened, and ruined things that should have worked.
"I would think so, but I don't know him that well. It just needs time, it just all needs time," I walked into the kitchen
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I hardly even knocked on the door before he answered it. I guess you could say I knocked once, and the door was opened. He stood with the smile on his face, a half smile but I noticed it. I think I will always notice it, I always have.
"Dewey," He held his hands behind his back, he didn't want to do that, but he did anyway, "Hi," Richard scratched the side of his head.
"Richard, hi. You answered the door rather quickly," I moved past him, into his small home that smell like Britain. I walked to the table, placing my bag on it, and looking back at him, as he stood in the door way, just looking.
"I was sitting and waiting at the window and when I saw you, I um, waited at the door. Want to get you out of the cold, that's all!" I nodded, figuring this out on my own anyway, and scratched my nose some. He came over to me, slowly, "My mum is out with Harry, she said she would be back late," I nodded again, sighing slightly on that Monday afternoon.
I sat down in the chair, having Richard sit next to me and smile a bit at me as always. I don't really know what I would have done if he didn't smile at me then, or even now. Looking through my bag, I began to pull a few things out, as I talked to him.
"Harry, I knew he wasn't your father,"
"Did you?" He asked.
"Yes, he doesn't share your features at all, and there was the interaction between you all that showed it," I pulled out a notebook and a pencil and slid that over to him, then looked for a folder and my own paper with notes about what my student needs, while I continued to speak in the empty home, "Where is your father?"
"Me parents split when I was only a little Richard," I almost laughed but decided against it. I wasn't one for laughter, "And I haven't seen him since. You?" I stopped searching, freezing up with that one word question. You?
"Um," I got nervous, in fear of the past, and shuffled in my chair. Richard didn't understand, which I knew he wouldn't.
"You alright?" He cared, obviously, but I didn't want him to know. I didn't want anyone to know about any of that. It's why I came here, to get away. I guess it would follow me, if I wanted it too. I didn't thought, that was the thing.
"I'm just annoyed because," I looked at the bright blue eyes he had, and then back down, "that John guy is going to throw rocks at my window everyday or something as stupid as that to make me mad," I had to move off the subject of my father, and I did it.
"Oh I see, why does it annoy you when he does it?" I wasn't sure if he was trying to dig into the strange mind I have, or just want to know more about me. If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be punishment-as well as the prison.
Whatever it was, it was not smart to do.
"Hm, well he just annoys me anyway, so I don't want to see him. I guess I would be okay with someone throwing rocks at my window if I liked them, didn't hate them." There were very few people, if any, that were on that list.
"Am I one of tho-."
"How about you start today by writing about what we talked about last Friday, yes?" I had to cut him off. There was no way in hell I was going to say anything to him. I had enough confusion in my own mind about the subject.
"Oh...yeah sure," Richard began to write, his hand writing sloppy and slightly cursive in style, large loops, probably from writing his name a lot. I didn't get pissed about it though, because I wrote horribly as well. Like his I guess.
I scratched my eye, as he finished quickly and moved the paper over to me. I read it, about the basic biology we spoke on and some British history. It was not horrible, he got what he was supposed to understand.
"Is it good?" He asked me, rather close to me. I looked back him, and shrugged some.
"Yeah, it was alright. You are improving quickly I think. I guess today, maybe on Monday's from now on, we can work on your writing," I looked back down at the paper, turning the page and back at him. I wondered where to start and figured to begin with a sentence.
I spoke aloud to him, as I wrote it down, "The boy has blue eyes," Well, what else was I to write down hm? He's got the brightest eyes, whatever that means. I won't think of it now. I can't stand it now. I'll think of it later.
"Well, is there a girl with brown eyes?" I shoved my glasses up my face, not looking at his face after that comment. I shrugged some, moving the paper back over to him, with the pencil on top of it, quickly grabbing my own.
"I don't know yet, I think we will have to wait and see, yes?" He nodded, looking at the paper. I began to explain the structure of a sentence to him.
Not too much later, it almost all seemed to go by too fast, I had to start to pack up my things again. His mother and Henry reappeared half an hour after we began and stuck around the rest of the day. His mother paid me for last week, thanking me a great deal for what I have done for her son, and how happy she was. At least she wasn't lying, I'm not used to that, and it's nice.
"Thank you again, Ms. Dewey! See you tomorrow!" She smiled and waved as I walked down the street, and right as I looked back, I saw Richard come running. I don't know why he just didn't walk with me anyway, but for whatever reason, he came running again.
"Hi Richard," I walked forward, looking that way as well. Richard breathed, wiping his hands a bit an holding them back as always. He smiled at me again, and I nodded at him.
"Ello Dewey," There was something he wanted to say, I could tell by the way he stopped his voice after my name. We walked in a comfortable able silence and then he stopped, like he figured something out, I guess he did, "Hey! You have brown eyes!"
I nodded, almost laughing, "Yes, I do," I stopped, slightly ahead of him, "Did you really not know? I thought you would know, of all people," He laughed some.
"I knew that, I just didn't know if you did, I mean I guess we do have a girl with brown eyes!" He smiled so largely, and I knew he was joking and all. It was kind of funny really, and I wasn't a funny person.
"And we have a boy with blue eyes don't we?" He nodded, and proudly and jokingly walked me home. I hoped he would walk me home ever single day.