bag, and zipped it closed.
I was cursing my tears, hoping they would subside, but the turning of
events had taken its toll on me.
I'd changed out of my soaked dress, and into a pair of jeans and tank
top, and deciding ringingNew York was my best comfort release.
I was wrong, however, considering the voice on my supposed boyfriend's
phone wasn't Peter Maverick, but my best friend Veronica instead.
I'd spent an hour arguingwith the two only to toss my phone across the
room and shatter it to pieces. Though, the newswasn't so much a shock
than I supposed I'd made it out to be, and I didn't expect any less,
since I'd known something between the two was going on. I guess I
chose to turn a blind eye, just for comfort sake.
Deciding it was best to break up with him was putting it midly, but
losing a best friend in theprocess was something i didn't prepare for.
Eventhough she was everything a best friend was not.
Satchel, and his almost-kiss didn't help matters either. It was stupid
and childish, but the thought of him not wanting to kiss me, made me
feel beyond rejected.
Self-conscious to a point where I felt like I wasn't good enough.
However, telling him I'd had a boyfriend was somethingI should have
kept to myself...and now regretted.
I don't know why I felt the need to blurt it out inthe first place,
but then again, after the almost kiss? I thought he deserved to know.
Regretting it now was probably a selfish urge on my part, or maybe I
didn't know that his closeproximity and his near kiss would have
affected me like this.
It did though. I was scolded by the rejection from his near kiss, even
more so at the fact that a lower class farmer, like Satchel, had put
me in this position.
Somehow in the midst of all of this, my sudden departure from Denver's
Drove didn't hold the same sentiments as it once did, seeming how I
had nothing but my belongings to go back to.
It made my boldness overblurting I'd had a boyfriend look
ridiculousnow that I'd broken up with Peter over the phone. I was
confused and frustrated and I really wish there was a cure for these
damn water works, because I really needed to get a grip.
I was vaguely aware of the door whining, as someone came into the room.
It was Satchel.
I wiped my eyes quickly in hopes that he didn't catch me crying, but
unfortunately it was too late.
"Er, I wasn't sure if you heard me knocking, so I wanted to check if
you were...." I cursed myself hating the fact that I couldn't stop
crying.
"Hey are you okay?" I nodded away from him.
"Yeah." My voice soundedeerie in comparison. He pried my hands away
from my face, gently turning me around. I forced a smile that I was so
good at painting.
"I'm fine." I avoided his eyes. "-I just had something in my eye. Dust
I think…you know this place is full of it." I ruffled my bangs, trying
to hide my eyes in them, but failed miserably.
He looked like he was fresh from a shower. His hair gelled back just
shy of a ponytail, while his attire consisted of a white muscle shirt,
black suspenders and same color slacks. His steel cap boots were as
clean as I've even seen them. He hesitated.
"I could come back another time if you'd like?" I shook my head and
gestured for him to come in.
"No I'm fine, really. I was just in the middle of packing." He made
his way to the window and took a seat. He eyed my suitcase that I'd
thrown on the floor with slight amusement. I'd been kicking it after
the phonecall with Peter, and my hours of packing went down the drain.
I'd madea complete mess of my bags.
"Lou." He murmured. My eyebrows furrowed.
"Who?" He smiled up at me and nodded at my bag.
"That's the name of your bag right? Lou?" I looked at my bag and
smiled a little, despite my mood.
" Louis Vuitton. The designer of the bag, not my personal name for
it."I scoffed. He nodded absent-mindedly, scrutinizing my room.
"I'm sorry I treated it like garbage when you first got here. It must
have been expensive," I wavedit off.
"Don't fret, I guess that was dramatic of me, besides I haven't been
treating it any better." I managed to laugh, humorlessly so and sat
down on the bed. I started fidgeting with myfingers at the awkward
silence that followed. I cleared my throat.
"So, what's-up?" I could feel the weight of his eyes on me again, but
I refused to meet them. I didn't know how I felt about him knowing
that he'd caught me crying.
"I just…I wanted to apologize about before; in the tree hut, about how
I behaved." He frowned. I was about to ask what he was sorry for, but
then realized he must have been talking about the almost kiss.
"Forget about it, I have." I got up and tried to occupy myself by
picking my bags up, setting them up in a line by the far wall.
"-Besides, I was the one shooting my mouth off about having a
boyfriend." I bit my lip again, hating my nerves for making me look
like aranting idiot. He cleared his throat.
"Anyway, I have something for you." He handed me a silver box I didn't
realize he was carryinig. I eyed it warily.
"What is it?" He shruggedand urged me to open it. I did, only to find
photos of my mother, jewelry that I supposed she owned, and letters. I
gasped, recognition splayed all over my face.
"This is...?" He nodded.
"We made a pact to dig itup when we met up witheach other again." I smiled.
"I remember. I just...wow." The nostalgicfeeling came crashing back.
Satchel and I had buried this box on the day I left. Shoving pieces of
ourselves that held sentimental value to the both of us. I picked up
the old photo of a seven year old Satchel, and me as a five year old,
by the gate entrance.
I noticed the sign of Denver's Drove had been perfectly straight,
bolted to the gate.
I showed it to him. "I remember this. Your mom called us mischiefs
that day she took this." Somehow, he'd gotten up from where he was
sitting to stand behind me. He smiled looking at the photo over my
shoulder and his faint aftershave skimmed my nose.
"Yeah, but I doubt she knew that rock in your hand was intended for
the sign." We both chuckled, gazing at the picture. We were so
little.I marveled at the little boy that was no longer, only to find
him a man standing tall next to me. Ibit my lips to conceal my
laughter.
"Its kind of your fault, you dared me to throw it." He crooked a smile
and shrugged.
"What did you expect? I was hoping I could get you to do my chores,
didn't think you'd do it either." A smile still painted his face and
suddenly I was aware of his proximity again, so I put the photo back,
flipping through the rest of the contents.
There were photos of my real mom, even of his dad. Both having died of
the same fever, as far as I was told.
I happened to fish out a small dusty journal with my name scrawled
acrossthe front in writing that was almost impossible to decipher. I
smiled
"My journal." I said flipping through the blank pages.
"I remember you saying that the next time you dug this up, you'd be an
authorized author." I stifled a laugh.
"Yeah, that was me. Always a dreamer." I frowned when I noticed there
was a photo wedged in between the pages. It was of my father; with his
disheveled light brown hair, and honey colored eyes gazing out of the
photo. He was holding me in my arms as a baby. I frowned, hating the
feeling I got when I thought of my father.
I'd never get the chance of knowing him now, and I wasn't sure what
tomake of my Grandmothers motives for keeping him out of contact with
me, but looking at his photograph, and me in his arms caused an aching
feeling in my chest.
"Weeping Willow." Satchel whispered, sweeping my bangs away from my
face. I blinked as he swiped his thumbs under my eyes ever so
slightly. He tippedhis thumb so I could see the single tear lingering.
Oh God, I'm doing it again. Crying in front of him for no reason.
Quite frankly, I wasn't sure what I was crying over.
The fact that I'd grown up without a mother or father, or the fact of
losing a boyfriend and best friend in this short time frame. My life
couldn't get any worst.
"Sorry." I blushed and turned to look up at him; and in that instant,
I could feel my eyes drowning in the depths of his soul again. I
struggled the urge to turn away, but I was fixated.
"You miss him?" I shrugged, putting the picture back into the box and
closing it.
"Doesn't matter now, he'sgone." I gestured at the box. "-Thanks by the
way,for the box of memories."I said, pulling away from his proximity
in order to breathe.
I sat the box on my bed, and tried to occupy myself with packing.
Despite the fact that everything I'd owned was neatly folded in my
bags already, but his closeness made me nervous.
I turned to the sound of his sigh, and watched him stare out the
window, and by now, nighttime had come.
"Box of memories...that's one way of putting it." He gave me a side
long glance and in a blink of an eye, he leaped out of the window, and
disappeared.
I rushed to the window and jerked my head around to survey the area.
He was gone. Save for the glow of the moonlight that glittered through
the window, and it looked like the full moon had a smirk on its face.
Moments later, I settled on the window seat.
I flinched at the sound of a familiar cry coming out from the distance
and scanned the perimeter. I couldn't see anything, but the sound gave
me a hollow feeling.
My stomach clenched andI felt its pain as it howled one too many
times. I wanted to console the animal, and share its grief, as I too,
felt like I was going through something similar.
The animal was in mourning and I shivered,curling myself into my
comforters I'd pulled off my bed, and closing my eyes so I can hear
more of it.
The window seat didn't hold as much comfort as my bed, but being
closer to the open window made me think he would come back.
Did Satchel just jump out of my two story window? I found myself asking.
What struck me as even more odd was the fact that the only sound I
could hear was the one wolf, as if the sleepless creatures of the
night had silenced their calls, just to listen to this one particular
animal.
A lone wolf I decided andI fell to sleep listening to the sounds of its cry.
Don't leave me again. Something whispered in my ear.
But my eyes demanded sleep, and so I fell into the depthless pools of slumber.
No comments:
Post a Comment