Revealing Reality
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For my girlfriend, who made me start to belive in this short drabble. Now you can even read it online. *smiles*
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Reality always kicks you in the stomach at the most unbecoming of times. You can't afford to relax, because every moment can be your last. That's why I hide from it. I'm not a coward, I'm just smart enough to do it. I have realized that it's the only way to keep you away from the pain and harshness of the reality outside.
How do I hide, you may ask? Oh, it's pretty simple actually. I stay at home. Simple as that. My world is not very big, but it fits me perfectly. It contains one small bedroom, the living room where the kitchen is situated, a cozy bathroom and so on. Just another normal flat in the middle of the Big Apple. However, mine is different.
Most people don't appreciate their homes enough, they mainly use them as a place to keep their materialistic stuff safe. And of course, to sleep. That's their only way of safety. While sleeping, they can relax and they're left out of reality for a small fragment of time. I, on the other hand, am always safe, because I always stay at home. And contrary to my fellow congeners, I do appreciate my home very much, because I know it is the reason for my safety.
So most of the time, I'm sitting next to the window and looking through it, observing the silly people that pass by. Did you know that most people hold their newspaper in their right hand, regardless if they're drinking coffee or not? Well, I did. I've learned pretty much by just observing people. There are business people, properly dressed in their suits and with their suitcases swinging aggressively back and forth as they walk by. There are also quite a few students, with their bags on their backs, probably weighing heavy on their shoulders. They usually walk in groups, as opposed to the serious adults, who mostly go alone. People from every corner of the world pass by my window, colors and races mixed just like non-stops in their bags. However, they have two things in common. One, they don't care about each other, and they don't seem to even care to pretend to. They just pass one another, not acknowledging the others presence at all. And two, they don't notice me, they don't even know of my existence.
One of the men passing by outside is holding the hand of a woman his age, obviously saying something funny seeing how she throws her head back and laughs at his comment. He grins at her reaction and leads her through the masses of people that surround them, still holding her hand in his.
"Ashley!" she shouted once she noticed me walking towards her and the group surrounding her. I smiled widely and waved at her before I held up my hand and blocked out the sun which was blinding me. "You're late, we were starting to think that we would have to come and get you ourselves," she chuckled and hugged me tightly. "Spencer, Spencer," I sighed and pretended to be disappointed, "you've got to learn the rule of being fashionable late, otherwise I might have to find myself another best friend." She rolled her blue eyes and shook her head so that her golden like tresses swirled a bit, but her smile gave her away. "I dare you to try," she threatened and hit my shoulder playfully. I grinned back at her and shook my head. "I don't think I'm brave enough anyway," I laughed and grabbed her hand, leading way to our other friends who were impatiently waiting for us.
A little girl outside is looking at her father with pleading eyes, her lips forming the same word over and over again. I can only guess it's "please" and that she's cynically calculating her own process, feeling him crack and adding the last pressure to get her will. It seems like it's working too, because some moments later she jumps up in the air with a huge victorious smile plastered on her face, hugging her dad tightly.
"So how is school, Ashley?" my father asked as we treaded through the glistening sand on the beach. The waves crashed violently against the shore and made the shrieks of the sea gulls sound considerably lower than they actually were. I shrugged, not bothering to open my mouth to answer him. He sighed and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Ash," he whispered. "What do you care anyway?" I snapped and shook him off. "You're my daughter, Ashley, of course I care!" He sounded hurt by my suggestion, but in my fury I didn't care. "How come you're never home then?" I hissed, "I'm surprised you even remember my name." We stared at each other for what seemed like ages, none of us breaking the silence that had occurred, although I could still hear the sound of the waves and birds in the distance. "I'm sorry," he said and hugged me tightly before I had any time to react. "I promise to be here for you from now on, okay?" he said and smiled, brushing away a strand of my auburn colored hair. I nodded slightly and closed my eyes as I leaned into him, feeling my stiffness subside and being replaced with a warm feeling of safety.
A young man is sitting down on one of the benches right across my flat, holding his head in his hands and rocking slightly back and forth as if it's comforting him in any way. He doesn't seem to notice the people around him as he tries to wipe his tears away and then quickly gets up on his feet and walks away.
The distant sound of church bells kept ringing in my head, although I had driven by the place hours ago. I relaxed my tight grip on the steering wheel when I realized my knuckles had turned white, and instead used one of my hands to wipe away my tears that were still running down my cheeks, blurring my vision just like rain on the windscreen. As soon as I heard about what had happened, I knew that I would never be a part of the black mass. I knew I had to lie and then go, just like he had lied to me and then left.
A soft knock shakes me out of my thoughts, and I can't help but feel my mouth open slightly as I stare at the door in complete shock. I know that whatever or whoever is standing there, is representing reality. And I also know that this fake feeling of safety I've been surrounded by lately is going to shatter as soon as the door opens. The decision is made for me though, as the person on the other side suddenly kicks it open with a groan, revealing a breathless Spencer standing there, staring at me with her piercing blue eyes.
What did I tell you about reality kicking you in the most unbecoming times? However, as she silently makes her way towards me and pulls me into a tight hug I can't help but think that I might have been wrong all this time. Reality isn't a thing outside my window. I'm reality.
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This was actually a short story I wrote in English (and had to hand in), but I decided to change Spencer's name to Sarah in the original version (Sarah, because I wanted to have at least the first letter of Spencer's name right, and as a tip of the hat to Sarah Warn, the founder of AfterEllen). It was always intended to be a Spashley story though, but so subtle that you could brush it off as just "friendship" between the two girls.
Hope you like it, and I'd really appreciate if you reviewed as well.
(As for my other stories, I'm currently working on the next chapter to one of them. Hopefully, it won't take that much time to get it out to you guys. I'm sorry I haven't done so earlier, but I've been too busy. Once again, sorry.)