In Memory (13 page)

When we got close to my house, along the small alleyway I walk through as a shortcut, I got an idea. It was impulsive, and sort of strange, but I followed through anyway.

S
lipped my hand in his, holding it gently. His skin was soft and dry, just like I thought it might be. He returned the gesture, running his thumb along the back of my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My heart soared at the contact, beat
ing hard and loud within me. W
as aware of every throbbing
pulse, vibrating through me. W
ondered if he noticed, I could feel it thrumming its beat between our hands.

W
hoever designed the human form and decided hands were to be built the way they were must have matched certain people’s hands to fit perfectly. I know that it’s the sort of cliché thing people say when they hold someone’s hand and figure they’re in love, but it’s true. His hand filled every dip and curve of my own seamlessly, like they were two parts of a whole finally together.

Then my thoughts strayed a bit, extrapolating the
idea of our hands matching. W
ondered if
our bodies would match too. T
ried not to get too excited, figuring he might catch on or read my mind.

However, I did get a little flustered, and a hot blush was renewed on my face, as it often happened recently. He seemed to be blushing
too,
it showed up brighter on his paper white skin. Almost like someone had coloured his cheeks with a highlighter.

When we got to the back fence, I let go of his hand to open the gate, and almost immediately missed the contact.

There was a note on the table from Terra that said she would be home late, around midnight, and not to wait up since it was a school night. Little did she know that there wasn’t class tomorrow, so we’d be up late
anyway.

Making supper with Noah was interesting too. He seems to enjoy vegetables more than the average person.

When I was chopping up the carrots,
(
aggh
)
etcetera for the salad, he watched me carefully, and then stared into the bowl when I was done.

“Do you like salad?” I asked, noticing his stares, “Help yourself.”

“I have permission?”

“Go for it, that’s how we cook around here. Sampling the ingredients while cooking is one of the best parts!”

He smiled, and selected a carrot stick from the salad, munching on it while I started seasoning the chicken.

“Do you cook often? You seem very skilled.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m much better than the average person, but I had to learn the basics at least. I think Terra might be cursed with bad cooking skills.”

D
idn’t realise then, but in retrospect, I think it was that comment that made h
im seem a little less perky. T
hink the word ‘curse’ affects him strongly.

All throughout supper, we talked about Shakespeare, and how hardly anyone in the class seems to understand it, and then went to the living room for my simple dessert of instant chocolate pudding.

He ate the pudding slowly, licking the spoon thoroughly
before taking another bite. W
atched him more than the television, as he was much more entertaining. (We were watching a
DVD
of a popular supernatural type show
that I’ve seen a zillion times anyway
)

I’m so fascinated by his
lips,
they’re artistically perfect, I think. A thin
cupid’s
bow shape on the top, and then petal pink and full on the bottom. He really is genuinely attractive as a
whole,
I’m just really attracted to his lips.

And his eyes, oh my goddess, his eyes.
That gorgeous blue, framed by long thin black eyelashes.
His blind eye is a misty white, with the tiniest tinge of blue, highlighting the beautiful intensity of his other eye.

He licked another spoonful of pudding off his spoon, which nearly sent me over the edge with b
arely-restrained attraction. M
ade a weird noise in my throat that made him look round curiously.

In a weird feeble attempt to disguise my fascination, I took an overly large bite of pudding that was nearly too much for me.

He smiled, and continued eating.

As the night went on, it got progressively colder, and I noticed him shivering before I even registered it was cold.

G
rabbed Terra’s blanket from her chair and draped it over him, instinctively pulling him closer to warm him up.

“I’m sorry, I get cold very easily it seems.” He fidgeted, looking up at me, “May I- may I sit closer to you?”

“Sure!” I smiled, reorganizing the pillows on the back of the couch to make more room for the two of us. I shuffled so he lay beside me, and covered us both with the blanket. There was a quilt draped over the back of the couch that I dragged over us too.

H
ave never been so comfortable.
Absolutely at peace.
He was snuggled up next to me, with his back to my chest,
warmth spilled in
untethered
waves, a synchronous tide ebbing and rushing as we breathed.

My suspicions were correct, it seems,
we
do fit together perfectly.

Like a puzzle with only two very specific pieces.

Eventually, his breath slowed and steadied, alerting me that he had fallen asleep. I was so happy, just holding him here with me under the blankets. It was a beautiful feeling. Pure comfort.

H
ugged him closer, placing my lips on his head. He’s important to me, absolutely.
The best of friends.

I started to nod off too, only having the presence of mind to shut off the television before falling asleep too.

Best sleep of my life so far.

133 Days, 17 October, Friday

W
oke up to soft music, the nice singing that Terra listens to. I guess that means she’s home.
S
hifted under the blankets, and then realised he was still next to me. He had turned around in his sleep, and was facing me now.

That realization brought a lovely set of emotions into me. Bliss, comfort, some sort of hedonistic pleasure rolled up with heaven. Ahh, words.

I hugged him tigh
ter and breathed out a sigh. T
hink he woke up at that point, and started to nuzzle into my chest.

F
orgot how insanely ticklish I am, so t
hat was almost like torture. W
as so torn between telling him to stop from the weird discomfort, and to let him keep going because it was just so… adorable.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and stared at my t-shirt like he was trying to figure out if it was real or not. I lifted my arm and put my hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look up at me.

“It’s an elaborate dream.” He said, perfectly clearly.

“Or a sort-of normal reality.” I replied, yawning hugely.

“This does not seem like a plausible reality to me.”

Squeezed
his shoulder more tightly. “It seems to be.”

He furrowed his brow, looking more confused than I had ever seen.

“How is this
possible…?
You should…”

“Hm?”

“It isn’t important…” he sat up, wincing a bit from pain or chill, I’m not really sure.

S
ighed, then realised I really had to use the washroom, so I excused myself and hurried away.

When I returned, Terra was sitting on the
coffee table
and examining Noah’s scars and more recent injuries.

“You’re not healing as quickly as you should. Are you sure you disinfected these every day?”

“I followed your instructions directly, except for the night of the eighth, as I was unable to.”

“Oh, how come?”

“I believe I was unconscious.” He touched his eye, where the slight swell of the bruise still lingered.

S
aw her expression change quickly at that, to one of concern with a bit of dismay. “You-
how…?”
She shook her head, gently placing her hands on his neck to turn it to see the residual injuries there. “Any problems moving your neck, does it hurt?”

“There has been a slight pain when I turn to the right.”

“Internally or just because of this?” She ran her fingers over the long sweeping scar that plunged into his collarbone.

“It seems to be internally, a sharp pain when I turn my head fully to the right.”

“Hmm, maybe you pulled a muscle, any idea how that might have happened?”

“I assume it was the sharp movement caused by the force of being struck on my left side.
”
he said in a dull monotone.

Wait, what? He’s completely up
front
with this? Does Terra know?

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath through her nose. “Would- would you like some medication?”

“I try to avoid using them, I feel very strange when using medication.”

“Okay, but I’d recommend them if the pain persists. And maybe you should see a doctor to-“

“No. I will not return to the hospital again. It’s too dangerous.”

Terra sighed, nodding. “Okay… I understand.” She ran her hand through her hair, gusting out a deep breath. “Can you take your shirt off so I can have a look at the rest of those cuts?”

He complied instantly, unbuttoning his shirt all the way and pulling it off his shoulders, leaving the fabric bunched around his elbows.

K
new he was skinny, but seeing him
there
on my sofa surrounded by the plush blankets and pillows made it even more shocking.

He was so thin and
frail-looking
, with bones jutting out from underneath
multicoloured
skin that set off weird contrasts and shadows around his body. The
whiteness of his skin was only further illuminated by the shaft of sunlight splitting the room
.

S
wallowed as Terra examined each wound, knowing that those words must have kept echoing in her mind.

It’s nothing, it’s nothing,
it’s
nothing.

I stepped into the room, waving a hello to both of them and sitting back down on the sofa beside him, far enough away not to jostle him.

Terra continued her inspection, while Noah made sure to not look me in the eye.

“These look okay, you’ve been looking after them better than the others, huh?”

“Yes, they seemed to hurt more fiercely, so I saw fit to pay more attention to them.”

“How are they now?” She stroked the crest of one of the congealed cuts, making him wince slightly.

“I find I am in less pain when I am very warm. I have been doing my best to keep well-covered because of this.”

Terra smiled, “At least you know your home remedies.” She moved her hands up to either side of his face, “Now, don’t be a stranger, come here for regular checkups, okay?”

“I understand. I will visit you as often as I can.”

“Good.” She stood up, and looked at me, “Aerian, go get your big white sweater. You know, that one you never wear in the brown box in your closet.”

“You seem to know the contents of my room better than me.
Creeepyyy
.
” I joked, standing up. C
aught Noah’s eye, smiling at him. He smiled at me nervously, pulling his shirt back up.

When I returned with the sweater, Terra was in the kitchen, surveying the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, go give the sweater to Noah. We can’t let him get cold.” She said, waving me into the living room as she inspected a container of canned pears.

W
ent to the living room with the sweater in hand, unfolding it and realizing how big it actually was. It was way too big for even me, made of fluffy white yarn that was loosely knit, but still very warm.

“Here,” I handed him the sweater as he finished buttoning up his shirt. He pulled it over his head, the static making his hair fly up and wave about wildly.

I laughed, at the absurdity of the way his hair went mixed with his usual serious face.

The sleeves of the sweater dropped way past his hands, and it fit him like a tunic, almost down to his knees.

“I believe this is too large for me.” He murmured, rolling the sleeves back three times to reveal his hands. “But it is lovely. It has a nice scent.”

“Heh, it was just in with my old clothes.”

“You have a nice smell then.”

“Eh, I guess so.” I chuckled, scratching my head. I then realised my hair was unkempt and tangled, and immediately reached for the brush on the corner of the
end table
.

T
ugged my hair out of the elastic, wrapping it around my hand as I started on brushing out the knots in my hair.

He watched me carefully for a few seconds, then blushed and looked away. I guess my hair must have looked nice, cause I was standing in the sunlight, and the light always makes little golden highlights come out of the orange. But I didn’t think it was nice enough to make him blush and look away.
Geez
, I’m a little embarrassed now.

Terra called for me from the kitchen, closing the fridge door with resignation. “I can’t cook, you’re going to have to. Let’s have pancakes or something.”

“Sure.” I finished tying my hair, flicking it behind me and waited for it to come to its usual resting place down my back.

It didn’
t though, much to my surprise. T
urned around, and Noah had caught it, and was inspecting it closely.

“It’s beautiful.” He said after a moment, “The colour is very intense.”

I fully blushed at that, no one has really complimented my hair. (Except Terra I guess)

“
Th
-thanks.”

He ran his fingers through my ponytail, experimentally twining it between his fingers. “Very beautiful, I enjoy this colour.”

I then realised he was making some kind of subtle reference to our very first conversation, when I asked him what his favourite colour was.

“Aha!
” I said, “So your favourite colour is orange then!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh? What is it then?”

“I believe I like the colours of the sea.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re meant to be a sailor then?”

Terra interrupted, “Hey, can you continue your flirting in the kitchen while making pancakes? I’m hungry.”

We both blushed at that, and I replied in protest. “We’re not flirting!”

Now that retort seems kind of pointless and not very witty at all. Oh well. Can’t take back the past I guess.

M
ade apple pancakes, which Noah ate and seemed to enjoy with fascination.

“These are interesting. I have never experienced this flavour before.”

After he said that, I vowed to always experiment with flavour whenever he came over. Next week, it’ll be sweet and sour or maybe bitter with sweet.

I feel an impulse to always cook him sweet things, as he seems to enjoy them fully.

Although, he also loves the savoury flavours in sandwiches too.

As an afterthought, he just really enjoys anything I cook him, I think.

I’ll just cook for him for the rest…

Dammit
. I’ll be dead.

He went home shortly after breakfast, bowing to Terra, which I’ve taken to mean he is thankful for something.

“Bye! See you on Monday!” I called as he walked down the sidewalk. “You can return my sweater then!”

He waved, smiling softly.

(Be still my fluttering heart)

As soon as he was gone, I turned to Terra.

“You’ve been seeing him and checking up on him? How long?”

She sat down on the sofa, looking serious. “After going out with Murray and Sean on Dad’s birthday, I was walking home from the pub, and I found him on the street.”

I sat down beside her, this brief prologue piquing my interest. “On- on the street?”

“He was sitting in the alley outside of the pub, just out of sight. I only saw him because a car drove by and the headlights shone on him.” She clasped her hands together. “He was shaking, from the cold, maybe. It was raining that night. So I tried to help him up, and he just passed out.” She looked at me worriedly, “I got him to come round, but he kept refusing to go to the hospital. There was blood on him, from a cut on his forehead.” A deep
breath
, “He got up, and tried to walk away, and he just collapsed in that alleyway. He shouldn’t have been like that, just hurt and bleeding in an alley in the rain. All I could do was call Sean to bring a car around, and we drove him to the hospital. When he woke up, we were just getting in, and he pretty much fought us off to get out of there.”

I swallowed, having nothing to say, so she continued.

“He started to run, so I chased him down to the park area, you know, the place where the sunroom overlooks. He had stopped next to one of the benches, and looked fit to collapse again.” She seemed to be reliving the event exactly as it has happened, and was merely narrating it or something.

“He kept saying ‘questions, questions’ over and over; I eventually got him to stop and actually look at me, I think he realised who I was, or who I look like anyway, cause he said your name then. ‘Aerie’, he called me, and stopped and listened to what I was saying. He seemed weirdly calm and reasonable then. I at least got him to calm down and let me have a look at him. He was concussed out of his mind, which might have explained his obvious confusion with who I was. He absolutely refused to go into the hospital though, and I couldn’t force him, I guess. So I got Sean to drive us to his place, 2514
Oakshield
Avenue, right?”

M
ade a noise of objection at that, and she looked at me curiously.

“His house, don’t you
know…?”

“What? I dropped him off, his father came out and took him inside,
I
figured he was safe. He must have been mugged or-“

“Don’t you know who’s doing this?” I asked incredulously, leaning forward.
“It’s-” I stopped, wondering if that particular piece of information could be potentially harmful to her.

“What? What’s wrong? Do you know who hurt him? Aerian, you have to tell me!”

“But I-”

“We have to stop this if we can! I looked him over, and I think this has been happening for a long time!”

“I promised him I wouldn’t do anything.” I looked at Terra, meeting her worried blue gaze, “I
promised.
”

“You can’t let this keep happening to him, he’s your friend.”

I sighed, looking away. “His- his father hits him.”

C
ould feel her staring, but I wouldn’t look at her.

The silence lasted too long.

“His… father…” she slid closer to me on the couch, placing her hand on my shoulder, “You should have told me sooner. We’ll find a way to-”

“You don’t understand. No one will believe him. He’s considered unlucky by the town, it’s stupid, but they won’t listen to anything he says.” I explained this in a monotone, sort of paying homage to the way Noah always spoke, “His father owns the police or something, so we can’t ask them either.”

“That’s impossible. There’s always something that can be done to help someone else! Remember that’s what Dad would always say ‘it’s better to try than to wonder how it might have worked’. We’ve got to do something for him. We can anonymously place tips that there might be some kind of abuse going on, get the government involved. We can go higher than this town if we need to. This has to stop.”

She spoke with such force that I was taken aback for a moment. “O-okay. We can try.”

“I’ll call the shelter now, they’ll know what to do.”

Terra contacted her friends who worked at the local women’s shelter, who then gave her numbers to call and report possible cases of domestic abuse.

She talked for an hour and a half with person after person, and eventually hung up and put her head on the table resignedly.

“I called every single one in this damn province and they all said there was a case opened a while ago, but it was closed after investigation. They won’t re-open the case without a report from the victim themselves.”

“What? How can they do
that???
What if the person who needs help is too scared to ask for
it!?
That system is insane!” I slammed my hand on the countertop, breathing angrily.

My one hope we could save him from his father was promptly crushed, so I guess that explains why
I flew off the handle a bit. C
oughed, wincing at the now-familiar pain in my chest.

W
ent to my room, after excusing myself, and threw myself onto my bed.

B
uried my face in my pillow, frustration burning hot and fierce under my skin. I hate it, that feeling you get, of hopefulness followed by absolute rejection.

D
on’t even want to write anymore. I’m so… dejected.

132 Days, 18 October, Saturday

Terra phoned one more number today, this time identifying herself as the nurse in charge of emergency at the Central Hospital.

She seemed to be making progress, as the person on the other end of the line said they’d send someone by his house to see what was happening.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that yesterday,” she frowned, then perked up, “But now we’ve got someone involved, right?”

“Yeah…” I couldn’t get too excited, I had this worried thought that this had the potential to only make things worse.

131 Days, 19 October, Sunday

I’m worried for tomorrow. It’ll break my heart if he shows up to school and he’s hurt because of the visit from the government official.

C
an’t think about anything but that today.

Almost sick with worry.

130 Days, 20 October, Monday

Another piece of my heart broke today. I keep holding them up in hopes that they’ll be received with grace and happiness, and they keep getting smashed and thrown back in my face.

My instincts told me to look arou
nd the school for him today. Don’t know why, but I obeyed.
S
kipped Math to see if I could find him somewhere.

He was behind the library, sitting in the small alcove outside between the fire exit and the storage shed. He had his face buried in his hands, and the small sound coming from him suggested he was crying.

Tentatively, I stepped closer, not wanting to surprise him or scare him. He paid no attention to me, sobbing quite audibly into his hands.

I’ve never seen him cry, not like this. My heart groaned with empathy, forcing me to reach out to him. As soon as I touched him, he jumped and looked up.

Tears ran down his face in unrestrained paths, glistening and wet. He wiped them away with his sleeve hurriedly, sniffing and coughing.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” I said, already fearing his response.

“S-someone from a child welfare agency c-came yesterday… I just lied again. F-Father thought it was M-May who called, and he- he- hit her!” He broke down, gripping his arms tightly, “He’s never hit h-her; I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t know
wh
-why they even showed up! Neither of us called!” He sobbed into his hands again, his whole body trembling.

There. That confirmed it. I broke my promise, and someone got hurt. I had to tell him…