‘Will stop calling me. Its annoying me!’ I lash at the phone after seeing his 12 miss calls on my phone log.
‘Why don’t you pick up then?’ he replies. His voice calm and collected, like he was pleased to know, it was affecting me just the way he had intended to.
‘What do you want?‘ i ask.
‘You. And everything there is to you, that you can give me’.
Had it been other hours, on hearing his, this simple gesture of passion for me, i would have been floating in cloud 9. But, not this time. The man had me exhausted enough!
‘I have nothing to give you’. I reply.
‘Oh, I am certain, that you have a lot to offer for me. And you know, i always get what i want’.
‘Not this time. I am afraid.’ I try sounding as calm and collected as he was. If he was playing that way, i was going to bend that way too.
‘Come on, my poker face is on. Show me your cards babe, and i will crush you down with Royal flush, on YOUR OWN table!’
‘You know, you can’t even run if you wanted to.. You love me that much. I am your everything’. Still poised. Unaffected.
How can he be like that? Treating me, as if, i am too predictable for him. As if, there is nothing about me, that will throw him off from his composure! Not a damn change in frequency of his tone. Not even a millimeter on wavelength. Can you believe that? The height of his impudence! The creature i am in love with?? Some one needs to crack his nerves! Lucky for him, I happen to be his right match!
‘Hold on to your horse Mister.My lips has kissed other lips too. And Gosh that was so luscious’. I smack my lips, loud enough so that he can hear.
(A long silence)
Then something snaps, broke perhaps.
‘Is that your vile heart breaking? Too bad. .Oh baby, i am so sorry. Want me to sprinkle some salt on it? To help heal better?’ I add, throwing my mean smile. Wish he could see the look i have right now.
‘You will repair it.. When i hear you beg for me on my sheets.’ he answers. His voice still as clear as a cloudless day. Even more.. Every word, now uttered with distinct pronunciation, stressed enough to engrave it on my psyche.
I get intimidated. However, shoving it off in seconds, i hiss. ‘Why beg it? When i can have it anywhere i want, anytime i want. Day or night’.
‘I hear guys like sluts. You even called me one. Remember? Now imagine, this slut and a colorful night, topless and naked, with thirsty Brandon under my blankets..wanting..craving..’
‘Fuck off! Screw yourself for all i care!’. Suddenly he implodes with anger. My cellphone slips off my finger. And i step away from it, astonished, horrified by his un predicted reaction.
Something smashes on a hard surface. The phone line then cuts off dead.
‘Jackpot!’. I smile.
I had ignited a spark. I know, it won’t be very long till i see him burn down..lust on it with temptations. My words will haunt him And not in a very long time, had i smiled like that..
Oh God. I’m not proud of what i did yesterday. And i have no excuse for myself. On top of that, at day of Pooch’s funeral? Why don’t you hit me with a hammer.
Will was right. I would regret it. And i am regretting now.. But, did he know he would regret it too? Probably hating his sorry arse, isn’t he? After all, I am delicious! One finger licking peach! It’s only once in a lifetime, a girl like me gets a psychotic breakdown and tosses herself at a man like him!
I jolt myself up from my bed, putting a brake to my nuisance thoughts. And grabbing my watch roughly from the drawer, I check the time. It says 11am. I double check on my cell phone. Right’ it was 11am, past 15 actually. I hurry downstairs, dragging down my robe on the carpet, wondering why Mom hadn’t woken me up today. Has she forgotten our big No, No rule to sleep past breakfast time?.
‘Hello sweetie’ She greets me in the hall, already dressed in her work uniform, to my surprise. ‘ Hey dear. How you doing?’ Dad greets me too, passing a pack of cereal and a cartoon of milk, on my way to the table.
‘Fine. Thank you’. I reply.
And sitting on my chair,i add milk to my whole cereal on the bowel, throwing one habitual long glance at poochie’s empty basket, lying on the corner of our sitting room. ‘Aren’t you guys going to be late?’
‘Yes about that’ mom replies to me, looking anxious. ‘ I heard you crying in your room yesterday night. And you were late to come home too. So, we were worried..’
‘I’m fine Mom. Where is Irish? I haven’t seen her today. Did she already leave for school?’ I divert the topic.
‘Yes. She did. I didn’t want her to wake you up, with Pooch gone and stuff…’
‘Yeah..ok. I will see her later then’ I sigh.
‘Sweetie, we all miss Pooch. I know how special she was to you. But, life keeps on..We will always remember her. She will always be with you in your heart’. My dad joins in, supporting Mom to ease me from my grief.
‘Yes Dad, i understand’.
‘ Fizzi has a due date next week. I have talked with Aunt Marish. And you know what dear, she said, you could chose any pup you like. There will be at least 5 of them to chose from’. He adds, trying to cheer me up.
I look at my Dad shocked, not believing what he just said to me. How can heexpect me to forget her so soon, without even leaving me a week to mourn my loss?.
‘No Dad. We can’t replace Poochie. We can’t ever have another dog again. How can you even think that?’ i reply.
‘Nothing gets replaced dear. Not 15 years of her life with us’. Dad answers me again. ‘We only hoped the new pup makes it easier for you. It will be Pooch’s grandchild after all.. She would want you to have it.’
‘No. I am sorry. I can’t’.
‘Never Say you can’t Darling. You will be amazed, at how much you can still love.. after showering all your affection to one. Ask me..I am your dad.’ My dad insists on his persuasion. While my mom, exchanges a silent language with him, asking him to continue, tipping him that he is going at right direction.
‘I never thought i could love anything else beside your Mom. But then, you came and Irish came. And i can’t tell which among you I love more. It will be same with the Pooch and the new pup. You will love it in no time, and when you realize that, you will know it isn’t the same feeling. But it’s still love. Stronger..’
My eyes starts, watering all overt again. I have a whole tank of tears in my eye bags..i tell you.
‘I don’t think i can love easily.. It’s hard to love and to fall out for me’. I hear my own words spilling me, as i try to contain my feelings.
‘You never have to fall out of love, my dear. You don’t have to substitute or replace either. There will always be space for more..I understand you don’t want the pup right away. I will ask Aunt Marish to hold for it right now, just in case you change your mind. Ok?’
‘Yes.. Dad. Thank You’. I stammer, throwing my gaze over at the place where pooch used to sit on her lazy days. Lying flat on her belly, soaking on the sunlight that penetrated from our glass window panes. Her attitude like a queen, her posture relaxed like a boss..
I miss her now and everyday. It’s funny how our human minds work.. We never miss things until they are gone.. And it took 15 years for my small four legged friend, weighing just over 25 pounds to make me realize that.. I only hope, Will realizes it soon enough.
Will is wrong man at a right time. That’s what he is!!
I stare at Will, as he steps out of his Black Ford, wearing his regular denim jeans and a casual white T with a bouquet on his hands. He approaches me guardedly. Perhaps unsure, if i might throw the pot i am holding at him, given that i was still furious over him for what he did to me last time. But, i stand frigid. Not moving an inch..signalling him that it was ok, to come near me, at least for once.
‘No matter how i looked at him and when i looked at him, he was always going to look so beautiful to me.’
I shove away the hurt i felt there for a moment, noticing the fear in his eyes. And wondered if he could see that.. i couldn’t help but gaze at him, dumbfounded; even after all the things we have been through, without letting tears drop on me.
‘Hey Babe’ he calls, hugging me tightly around his arms. My head rests on his shoulders, sub consciously melting in his comfort. My tears floods in more, as i do so..
‘I want Will!!I want Poochie!!’ My insides, unbolts the cell. My heart aches, screaming, rampaging on my rib cage wanting to hold him tighter, more..
But i force myself away. Slowely pushing him away from me. He kneels down at Pooch’s grave and gently lays a bouquet of orchids, mixed in with white roses stems. Then, patting in the heap of the mud, the one that we just poured over pooch, he wishes him farewell. Seeing him, bid goodbye.. suddenly i wail. I wail hard.. sitting on the muddy ground, crying.. wanting my dog back.
After an hour, Will and i, we both are resting in an open field. Somewhere far..i don’t know. I asked him to drive me anywhere but near here. We sit there watching the wind sway the tall grasses and sun shimmering light, till it faded to dull yellow..speaking nothing. Nothing at all.
‘Why did you come Will?’ i ask him, after our long hour of silence. ‘I wanted to..’ he replies, his voice softening and fading away.
‘What did it mean?’ i question myself. ‘That he didn’t call me for a month now and out of nowhere he decides to ring me up today..when pooch..’
‘Its time baby’ he gives a light tap on my shoulder, shrugging me off my train of thoughts. ‘Stay’ i reply, looking at him then bending myself over to him and trapping him under my body. I kiss him. I didn’t want to lose him..Never.
‘Not here. Not like that.’ Will stops me, after a while, when i start undoing his pants.
‘Why, don’t you want me?’ i ask upset by his refusal. This was the last thing i wanted to hear..
‘Its not that’. He replies, pulling me to sit on his lap. ‘I don’t want you to do anything, you would regret. You are not thinking straight’.
‘I am thinking straight!’ I answer back, tearing up once again. ‘oh how i hate these traitors!!’
‘Tell me you want me..please’ i pressure him, turning back at him again and bringing his hands together with my hands, to cup my breasts.
‘I do want you’ he replies, lowering me down again, holding by my hips and landing a soft kiss on my lips. ‘I will always want you. Can’t you tell? We could spend the whole night out here or the motel wherever you want to go. But not tonight. It’s just not right’.
‘Ok Mister!!’ i snap, flustering with anger now. It bothered me, why he didn’t want to touch me..why he didn’t find me attractive enough to bed. But, i have already thrown myself at his table.Haven’t i? If he wasn’t going to have me, it was his loss!
‘Take me home then, right now!’ i command, putting on my clothes as fast as i could. If i was raging bull, consider me one getting charged up, stamping my foot on the ground, ready to toss that miniature man with red flag..30 feet high above the ground.
‘Yeah..’ he says, divided, unsure what to say, handing me my underwear.
‘Not this one!!’ i throw it off back on his face. ‘Apparently it does not look advertising enough! Can’t you see?’
I watch my mom follow through her mundane Saturday routine, knitting another addition to already 7 on stock sweater for my dad. One on sky blue this time, double knotted on woolen, heavy with complex designs. Still, midway in June, winter seems far way off. But it didn’t surprise me. Mom always started early, sometimes way too early, just to ensure that dad had her hand made sweater put on before, the chill of winter first touched his feet. And with full time job on hand, finding time to do that for her was next to impossible, without utilizing every break she got now and then.
I never understood why Mom did that? Trouble of making another sweater, i mean..Didn’t Dad already had enough of those to chose from? And even if he was tired of his old ones, we could always buy him a new one from the market. He wasn’t going to complain. Dad knew, like i did, it was going to cost a lot less, if we took account of other factors like mental and physical stress in mom’s part. Heck, we’d give away every penny of our savings if she could relax and rest for a while.. But, she wouldn’t agree to it.
‘You will know it someday why i do this..’ she answered, the same way every time, with her usual strange smirk in face when asked. And after last summer, when she wouldn’t stop knitting despite being down with flu, i have given up on convincing her to stop laboring.
As for my dad, 4, 7 or even 10, he didn’t mind Mom making more. Of course, he asked her to stop now and then, seeing her squeeze her eyes and strain too much while making loops on the wool. But, when she landed him with the finished product, he always wore his ‘just won a million dollar lottery’ expression on face. And went around right away, showing it off every chance he’d get, to his friends and to our neighbors..
When Dad behaves like that, acting as if he is some spoilt rich kid who loves flashing his new toys that others are not interested in, i feel really embarrassed. But Mom never does. She doesn’t even ask him to stop. I don’t know how in earth did she cope all her life with Dad’s childishness, i suppose? i don’t even know the word.
Home sweet home. This is Wokingham!
I am back in my humble abode for a week. A place of my own, away from my school, books and of course, my complicated love-life. Two of these days are the weekends and the five are registered as ‘sick leave’, in my application. Although, i am on a week holiday from school for my parents.
Love the aura, the comfort of here. The breath of air that circulates in, so vitalizing.. The smell of old furniture, the noise of clock wall and even the rugged mat ‘poochie’ our dachshund just flooded in with, answering her urgency ofnature’s call.‘Damn pooch!i was in such a good mood!’
Settling myself in my favorite old couch, I wonder, if it grew in size with me over all these years. I can still fit in my legs perfectly fine..We have owned it for 8 years straight now, since dad first bought it second hand from a shop downtown. So many good memories..
‘I’m 17, the only way i will be growing now is horizontal not perpendicular. So if i manage to keep track of my weight, i might still be able to keep you’ I addres the couch, speaking out loud, before folding my legs and settling on to it. At which, Poochi, my beloved four legged creature, responds to me, by throwing her retarded expression.. ‘Come here. You don’t think i lost my mind seeing me talk to the couch, did you?’. I carry her to my lap, stroking her long golden brown back. She whimpers first, then lets me pick her up. However, throughout the entire time she exchanges stares with my mom and turning back at me, throws suspicious looks. ‘I don’t think she remembers me, does she?’ i ask Mom, confused at her odd behavior.
‘No. I don’t think so dear. She sure is old but her memory is still solid. Maybe.. probably wondering where were you all these times? If she could ask, i think she would ask if you would leave any time soon. Because, last time you left, she didn’t eat for two days. Not even her favorite dog cereal ‘.My mom replies, pulling down her specks onto her tip of nose.
‘Oh Poochi you miss me that much’ i nuzzle my dog’s nose with mine, feeling sorry for her. ‘I did too’. I assure her, gently patting on her back. But, i doubt Poochi understood anything i said. She closed her eyes and laid her head tiredly into my hands, snoring in minutes.
‘Time for her nap. Put her to bed Carem.’ Mom asks me, keeping her concerned eyes on poochie, never leaving her eyes from her as she said that. ‘She has been sick for few days now. 15 years is a long time for a dog to live…’
‘Have you taken her to vet?’ i ask Mom alarmed. ‘Yes, they said its about time. And we should be prepared’.
‘Everything alright Carem in school?‘ Dad’s voice in the room out of nowhere, suddenly startles me. ‘Yes Dad. I just missed home and Irish and our little poochie’. I reply, putting a small blanket over my arm, to warm her.
‘Ah good old Poochie’ Dad sighs. ‘You were just 2 when i brought her home. Your mother raised you together like a baby. Then in no time, she was your nanny. Waking you up, looking after you, waiting by the bus stop.. And now look, she is old. Its really unfair isn’t it, to live that short? ‘
Tears run down my cheeks and i start to snort when Dad said that.
It never occurred to me, Poochie would leave us. Yes, getting old but not that she would die on me. She was my best friend. Someone i could depend to. Someone who loved me, no matter how angry i was with her or forgot to take her on walk or even feed her at times. Her love was unconditional.. And at times, even when i completely neglected her because i was with friends, she would just come in, wagging her tail to snuggle beside me. Asking me, in her own little ways not to forget about her.
She could watch me all day, throwing tantrums, never complaining. Waiting patiently on me, flopping down her ears and sitting low on the floor as i go by kicking stuff..breaking things. She would laugh too, barking and howling when she saw me happy till it annoyed me and i had to ask her to stop, personally.. And when i was sad, when i cried alone,no matter where i hid myself .. Pooch always found me, licked my face dry till i had no tears to spare for her.
A little of bundle of joy she was.. and she passed away snuggling, like sleeping, that night in my arms.
We stay in silence for a while. It was our first fight and both, Brandon and I, we didn’t know how to react, now that we were calming down. However, a flush of relief soon runs over me on hearing him talk first. ‘Cam, Cam. Babe please look at me’.
‘What?’ I reply with a glare , loud and clear, making sure i heard him twice before i answered to him. I don’t know why i even did that? Perhaps to boost my self destructive ego, that was already towering over my head, and was starting to eat me inside and out.
‘I am sorry’ he apologises. His eyes careful and calculative of my mood and stance, waiting for my right response before he could say couple of sentences more.
‘It’ s alright’ i reply, least interested on what he had to say next.
Despite clinching on my hint, he adds. ‘After you went to prepare something to eat for us and got into talking with Mia, i became sure you forgot about me. I was bored, so i started making these paper balls and scoring them on the bin.’ He pulls in a bunch of small paper balls from his pocket as an evidence. ‘When did he have time to prepare that?Surely i didn’t leave him that long’.. I question myself, examining inquisitively those finely made, plastic taped, smooth round paper balls. Talk about Talent!
‘That’s when i noticed your silver piece. I know for a fact that you loved this thing so, i couldn’t help wondering what it was doing on the garbage bin. One thing led to another, and i ended up scouring everything..Look, I am sorry. Ok? Can you please forgive me?
And i did.
Yes, just like that. Because, I understood. I didn’t have to look at his down turned lips or upward slanted brows to tell me, that he regretted doing it. His words weighed to me. They mattered.
See, that’s what happens when people communicate..When people don’t let their ego clash in between them and let it do the talking first. I know, i have my issues and i have been struggling with them on my own ways. I get mad. And when that happens, my temper does the talking for me.. But Brandon wasn’t letting this get to him. He was approaching me as calmly as he could.
Feeling ashamed of my actions now, realising that he ranked much higher in character than me, i stammer timidly. ‘I am sorry too, Brandon. I can’t believe i made such an issue out of this small thing, when i should be thanking you for finding my lucky charm’.
‘No offence taken’. He replies instant. One of his genuine smiles assuring me that it was really ok.
I didn’t want to believe Brandon would do anything like that. At least not intentionally, in the first place either. But i guess, i snapped. PMS does that things to girls. Believe me! But, yes, i knew he wasn’t the type. The type, as in, someone like me…who was too obsessed, who went around investigating.. Was i even angry at him? No. Not at all. The reason for my anger melt down was ‘Me’. Me all along! I was angry at myself. I was the one used to doing those stuffs..snooping around ..Will’s cellphone, his bag, purse whatever i could get my hands on. I just didn’t want Brandon to be walking that way down like me. And i didn’t want him to know anything..
I take the silver piece away from Brandon and hide it in my drawer.
‘ These…’ I speak picking up the crumpled pieces from my desk. ‘are what i do when i get mad’.
‘Who in the sane mind would draw stuff like that? Who?’ I lower my head feeling sick at myself. The sketches start appearing more horrifying and disturbing with every passing seconds..
‘That’s one way to kill anger. Better let it out one way or the other than holding onto it, i suppose’. Brandon answers, kissing my head and moving away the strands of my hair on my face, tucking them neatly behind my ear.
‘What do you do Brandon, when you get mad?’ I ask, still pinning my head to the desk. If i was a mole right now, i would be digging my way down, way…y down tunnelling into the centre of earth.
‘Easy’ he replies, crumpling the pieces again and throwing them back to dustbin. ‘I am no hard worker like you baby. I walk out from the discussion. And that’s the end of the topic’
‘Why did’t you walk out on me then?’.
Perhaps, it was the nasal twang in my voice or the look of surprise i carried when i asked that, he smiles. Then, wrapping his arms around my trunk, resting his head on my back and cuddling me like a new born, he answers. ‘Don’t you know that Cam by now..’
‘Has it ever occurred to you, why sweetest words come from people you are least expecting from? Sometimes, i wonder what would happen to the world, if everyone got what they wanted. But again, it’s impossible right? There will still be chances that someone will always wind up getting heartbroken..For them, the world would still be sullen..purposeless, so frameless, wouldn’t it? What is life without love? What is love, if it doesn’t make you thrive to outpace your own limits?’
‘Stop it already!!’ i throw a light punch on Brandon’s shoulders, catching him draw a yawning emoji about me, that read, ‘my superpower is getting bored. Nothing interests me. Nothing! Literally! Call me Miss Sleepyhead’
‘Ok Ok. Don’t hit me. You hit like a man!’ he retreats, rubbing his shoulders. ‘Remind me to put an emoji down later of how you look right now. Trust me it isn’t a pretty sight.’ He makes a face at me and cracks into another laughter again.
‘Come on. Can’t you ever get serious with me Brandon?’. I look at him irritated. There are times in my life, when i don’t want to laugh at all. Doesn’t he get it?
‘What are you talking about? I am always serious with you.’ He replies.
‘No you are not..’
‘Are not. Tell meone thing you have given a serious thought about us or done something, in fact anything that actually proves to me, that you were ever serious’.
‘Is that so?’ he asks raising his brows, looking directly into my eyes. His eyes then surveying my lips, down my neck..
‘Oops’ i gulp my throat. ‘Yes…’ i stammer. Something about the look he just gave me..
‘I can’t do things to tell you how serious i am’ he replies, removing his eyes slowly away from me. ‘But yeah, if you want me to be serious with you, you got to start speaking as well. And when i say start speaking, i mean the truth and nothing else beside that. Do you understand?’.
‘Yes’ i nod to him obediently, surprised at the change of his expression and his tone with me.
‘So, tell me what is your favorite silver necklace doing at your dustbin. Next to these crumpled pieces of papers?’ He pulls out a ball of papers that i had just discarded before and stretches it neatly on top of my books over my desk. I look at it. A match stick guy was stabbed, electrified and dug alive into a grave in those rough drawings.
‘First tell me, what were you doing at my bin?’ i question him, equally cautious like he was with me, ignoring his question.
Why? Because this was important. We had only been dating for about two months now and if he had already started searching through my stuffs and skimming through my garbage…only God knows how messed up his mind is.
He looks at me puzzled. And I lock my eyes to his confused face too, squinting them, trying to focus my head on what could he be thinking this time.
‘Carem this is sick.’ he replies after a while.
‘Look, don’t tell me this is not your handwriting. Twisted E and funny A’s.’ he tells me pointing at my ‘e’ and ‘a’ on the words. ‘For God sake, why would you come up with a plan of how to kill a man or torture him in such details. And you have even written it step by step on papers. Do you see how sick it makes you look to me? Who is this match stick guy any way? Is he me? Are you planning to kill me? or have you already killed someone else?Be honest..Please Carem, I want to help you!’
‘What..?Wait wait. Wait right there Mister! ‘ i stop him baffled.
‘You concluded all that, with these three crumpled pieces of sketches? So what, if i electrified or stabbed a match stick guy? You doodle about the man that wears undies outside his pant always! You even walk around like that, on your fancy dress costume parties. Do I complain? Do you hear me complaining? Nope. I don’t call you crazy. Or should i? Now that i know you like scavenging on my garbage ‘.
‘That’s Superman! And you like him too.’ he replies in a very low pitch voice, hurt by my razor sharp tongue, that has a mind of its own when it starts snapping.
Well i know, i am at fault here. But even if he was my boyfriend he doesn’t have a right to call me crazy now, has he? People have strange ways of ventilating their anger. Some hit themselves, some hit others, some go and smash things, some travel miles away to just to scream and some…they imagine that they did horrible things to the person who got them pissed at first place. I guess i am among those. I can’t mentally kill people. I don’t have that high definition imagination to enjoy the scene like they are blessed with. So.. i write. Jot my anger down on paper.Many times with illustrations and yes, they seem a little creepy, may be too creepy now and then. But as long as it helps me, why not.. Who asked Brandon to dig in my dustbin? He was looking for trouble, for all i know…
After my last encounter with Will, i haven’t heard from him for almost 2 weeks now. I wish i could tell it has been easier, provided that i had enough practice beforehand. But, i am getting through.
Mia tells me, breaking up with Will is the best decision i have made so far. And that i should be proud of it. And i am, considering how i am holding up after more than a year long of my energy vested over him has left me.
Brandon and I are still seeing each other. We are getting better together, every other day. Last night, we even had our first kiss and he was surprised to find out, how good kisser i was. Obviously, it flattered me and i blushed into a red balloon. Noticing that, may be because it occurred to him, i felt more vulnerable now, he wrapped me around his arms the whole day. In the movie hall, in the restaurant, in the park and in the apartment. Till Mia had to break in to him, very cruelly that it was midnight and he should leave right away with James.
I like being with Brandon. And i liked, how i felt, being inside his arms yesterday. The last time we met, i recall, feeling his tension, unsure whether he should give me a friendly hug or a firm handshake for saying goodnight, instead of a kiss on my forehead, that i was so used to receiving from him. But it had changed now. Yesterday, we both had eased up and relaxed in each other’s presence. We both had pledged an unspoken vow to remain true to what we had and promised each other in unspoken words, to be devoted and be patient with each other. And, not for a single moment there, it occurred to me that i would regret it. I trusted Brandon. However.. for a very small flicker of second, i couldn’t help but wish it was Will that i was binding my solemn promise with. .
‘Concentrate Cam, Concentrate on your book’ Brandon taps on my forehead with a pencil 2-3 times, catching me stare vacantly out of the window.
‘Aw’ i cover my head with my hands, mumbling ‘don’t do that’.
‘Well you need the grades if you want to get into medical colleges. And with that hollow head of yours, you need to work a lot harder’. He grins. His smile extending all the way to his ears on both sides having caught my attention. How he enjoys doing that.
‘I am working harder. Can’t you see? And how come you are not working on your books and complaining on me? You are stuck on same question 23 since twohours’ i ask.
‘Good observation!’ My reply, utterly thrills him. And reaching under his desk, he pulls out his two hours of work proudly exclaiming ‘Behold!’
Funny emojis and doodles that look like me, now stare at me from his A4 sheets. Cloud captions that read ‘I am thinking about Brandon now’ ‘He is so cool’ ‘I like him so much’ ‘What else am i thinking?’ ‘May be i am thinking nothing at all’ ‘Oh i know what i am thinking, when will me kiss me again’ etc etc. His outrageous imagination, mocks at my absentee hilariously.
Sometimes i swear Brandon feels like a baby. Not like a teenager or 17 but a baby, still running in tri-cycle.. so excited to have discovered that there is another house with same colored fence next to his.
He has his sides. And i adore this one too. So innocent and untarnished. Unpretentious, still learning, adapting and growing up. Unlike me, who has long forgotten how thinking like that feels, how being innocent means. I wish i could go back again.. I envy him. But i can’t. I grew out of my casket too soon, and it was my choice all along to be that way. Funny how, time keeps moving forward with every seconds.. And how you waste those seconds, thinking it is just a tick on moving clock. But when it piles up and you look back later, you realize, those seconds have changed you, to a whole other person. A person, that your own past refuses to recognize and accept..
Being with Brandon makes me miss that person, i have lost in me.