Around Two - Chapter 6
[With Editorial Commentary Below]
I cradled my elbow with my cast, unwilling to lay down my hand before he shook it. My shoulder throbbed to its core.
The man’s brow loosened, his eyes draped in dark green beneath heavy lids. After what could’ve been hours, he finally met my gaze. His pupils grew the slightest bit, pulling up the corners of his mouth. His hand came next, hearing my silent pleas. He didn’t shake; he turned his palm up to mine and stroked my fingertips.
My eyes brimmed with confused tears. I remember this.
“You were in my bedroom,” my mouth whispered. The tears rolled down.
He dropped his hand, turning my confusion to disappointment.
“I came to visit last week. But you were asleep.” He addressed the photo again.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
He shrank away as I scooted close. “Just a couple of friends. We did everything together.”
“What happened?”
The man shook his head and sighed. “Something I shouldn’t talk about. Then we just grew apart.”
He looked out again into the clouds, into forever, probably wishing the ugly girl would leave him alone. I wish she’d leave me alone, too.
“I have a friend like that, I think,” I said, so he’d cheer up.
The look he shot me seemed to be disbelief. Yes, the ugly girl has friends, too.
“Someone wrote me a note. I’m supposed to be here around 2. I don’t know what day I’m supposed to be here, but I come here every day, hoping I can find him... or maybe her.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, but his gaze returned to the sky. I saw a glint in his eye that could’ve been a tear, but it also could’ve been annoyance.
“I know it’s stupid, but it’s all I have. Just the letter T in a sloppy handwriting. It’s enough to get me out of bed, I guess.”
His eyes closed, and I began once more to wonder if he was real.
“What...” he sniffed, and until then, I couldn’t detect that he’d been crying. “What does the T stand for?”
I frowned, reaching for my note. Still not in your robe pocket, idiot! So I scratched at my cast instead.
“I like to pretend it stands for True Love,” I laughed, “but that would just be silly.”
The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he buried his head in his hands.
“But I keep thinking of the word ‘telepath’. Can’t get it out of my head,” I sighed. Then I smiled at him. “It’s probably something obvious like Tim or Tom, I just can’t make myself remember. My head...” I touched my left temple, “it’s a real mess in here.”
As I looked up again, I could see his hand reaching for my face. I leaned away from him, scanning his face for answers.
“You don’t want to touch me,” I said quickly.
The man retracted his hand slightly, eyes filling with tears, and he brushed my hair back to my mangled ear. “Don’t ever think that.”
I pulled away, staring into evergreen pools, wondering what thoughts lie inside them. My lower lip began to tremble.
“You’re beautiful, don’t ever think you’re not,” he said, snapping his wallet shut.
I sat on the bench, curling my legs up as I began to sob uncontrollably. Ugly girl crying is quite a sight. Maybe he needs glasses.
I felt his breath on my ear and realized he was standing next to me. He caressed my good ear and whispered, “You never cease to bewilder me, reading me like a book. My telepath.”
I began to cry harder as he walked away from me. Ugly girl wins again with her frightful mug. I wished I were the girl in his photo; he seemed to love her. All there is for me are these jumbled words bouncing around up here. Now the T was for tornado, and it was picking up speed, throwing my thoughts all around.
“Let me go!” I screamed as I was carried away from my bench. I scratched at my face with my good hand and clubbed at my head with the cast. When I couldn’t wriggle out of Loafers’ grasp, I clubbed myself harder, aiming for a knockout.
There was a stinging burst of pain in my hip, and the world around me faded into nothing.
To Be Continued…
[Comments: This scene is heavy on emotion and unspoken words. There are a few parts that seem to skip, for example, from sitting to standing.
It’s a short scene without much action, but it paints a picture of two characters wishing they could read the other’s thoughts, yet still connecting over their grief.
Actions: If the skips in action are on purpose to reflect the narrator’s warped experience of time, they need to be more deliberate, so they don’t feel like a lapse in editing.]
