Author's Note: This part marks the half-way point of the story! It also marks a major turning point for each character. This chapter can be taken as progress or sadness, depending on how much of a sap you are. But I think for many of you, this is the point you've waited for Abby to get to for a long time. I appreciate all of you support and I hope you will continue your support as I strive ahead to finish this long project. Thanks for your patience whenever I have time issues.
Anyway, my question for the chapter is: So far, you've seen the progression of Abby's personality from a toddler to a teenager. What do you like most about her personality and what don't you like? I'm very curious since this character is so close to my heart and she will have another aspect to her personality very soon.
I pulled the briefcase alongside me as I walked toward the car. The sidewalk clucked steady knocks with every step of my boots, the same rhythm as my heartbeat. I hardly noticed the weight of the baggage with how foggy and worn out my mind had become. The steady pain in my skull occupied much of my conscious attention and the other portion of it was caught up in a misty secret whispered in the wind.
The sky overhead was gray and dotted with miserable clouds. The atmosphere was so humid that invisible droplets clung to my hair and skin, making it uncomfortably sticky to be outdoors. It was more miserable than drenching rain fueled with swift winds. The birds and insects were quiet too. At least where I was going, it would be sunny.
Mick rented a car to take us to the airport. It was a silver minivan with the windows tinted, so that anyone looking would not be able to see the passengers beyond a shaded shadow. The other vehicle, my mother's, were taken by the bodyguards to transport the majority of our luggage to the airport already. It would return again after we departed to take my mother and Esther to the airport after they've tidied up everything here. Mick was supposed to drive me and the remaining bags to the airport to check in first.
"Abby."
I whirled around, back to the house, and Mick was making his way down the sidewalk and toward me. He was pulling another two briefcases with ease. He was wearing a custom tailored suit with a thin black tie and dress shirt. His leather shoes were clean and shiny. His hair was meticulously gelled to make him look professional again. He didn't wear his glasses to complete the look though. His eyes flashed gray in the grim weather, but he seemed freer without the blank faced men in black following his steps.
The house loomed behind him, nearly empty and quiet with anticipated vacancy. All the times that I returned home, exhausted but satisfied to this roof was comfortable. Surely I would miss this part of my life. It was not simple, but it gave me the experience of a normal teenager. A time without maids and bodyguards watching my every move. A time without a grandeur mansion sheltering my vision. An escape from a controlled environment.
I paused in place and stood the briefcase onto it side. Mick came to me and pulled the handle away from me. He continued to drag the bags away as if the extra weight was nothing.
"Mick, I'm fine. I'm not handicapped," I cried as he tugged me and the baggage toward the silver vehicle.
"No, but you are ill. And a gentleman never makes a lady do the heavy lifting," he chuckled, pulling a ring of keys from his slacks.
"It's a briefcase on wheels."
He laughed and left me by the backseat door while he went around the trunk. He raised the alarm controller in the car's direction and its headlights flashed twice. The car made a distinct beep before the locks on all four doors popped up. Mick yanked the trunk open and threw the bags in one by one, causing the car to lurch in its position. After he was done, he closed the trunk again and came back to my side.
He reached beyond me to the car and pulled the front passenger door out for me. The smell of leather drifted from inside it to my nose like a touch of reality in a misty dream. Mick reached for my right hand and lifted it up in between us. I looked down at it, and he dropped the ring of keys in my hand. The silver metal was warm from his touch.
"I have to go grab a few last things from Esther. Wait for me in the car, okay?" He said softly, with a half smile. "I'll be right back for you and we'll go."
I looked up, nodded, and turned in the car's direction. I could hear him walking toward the house. I slipped in the car and slammed the door behind me, glad to be off of my feet. I reached over and pushed the keys into the ignition, turning it so that radio started but the engine didn't. I glided through the various stations, not looking for anything in particular. After a minute of searching, I gave up and left it on a talk show about vitamin intake and sat back against the seat. My boots squeaked together and brushed again the back of my knees when I moved. My head feel onto my right shoulder as another dosage of pain hit my temples. I blinked, almost cringing from the ache and my gaze brushed the passenger rear view mirror.
I sat up instantly and leaned forward to make sure I wasn't seeing things. My heart almost dropped when I saw the distinct hair color, mistaking him for Jason. It wasn't a happy or sad feeling, like Rita once mentioned, but just glad. But standing at the end of the street with his hands hidden in his jeans and his gaze intent on the parked vehicle in which I sat was a silent Joseph.
Even from this Joseph, his expression was solemn and rigid, reminding me of his brother's unwavering temperament. I whirled around in the seat, hoping the mirror was playing tricks on my eyes. No such luck. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, and upon meeting my gaze, he moved forward like a stalking lion after a tasty prey. I stopped breathing.
It had completely slipped my mind until now. My skin burned from a mixture of fear and anger as I monitored his approach. The last time, he was angry; a man in denial, unwilling to be exposed, and under verbal attack. At that moment, he was on the edge of resorting to physical violence. He would've been of the first to hit me since I was in elementary school. But Jason pulled me away and stopped Joseph from ever getting that satisfaction. Still, the fact that would've was plenty enough. Fear was overtaken by rising outrage. I was not defenseless and not such a coward to stand and be bullied, especially when the bully came looking for me.
I turned back to the front and reached for the door. It swung out with the force behind my arms, and I dropped my feet onto the cement below. I wasn't in the proper attire for fight or flight, but I didn't have much of an alternative. Carefully, I lifted myself out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind me. At least the heels on these boots would be useful as a weapon and make me look three inches taller. It should count for something.
By this time, Joseph had already closed most of the distance between us; he was only about five feet away from me. I took several steps, closing the remaining space. He looked like he wanted to speak, but I beat him to it.
"If you came here about yesterday, I'm going to make this a short trip for you," I exclaimed, glaring up at him. "If you want an apology, you're not going to get one. If you want to finish what you started, sorry, I'm not one to stand still and let people use me as a punching bag."
Joseph's blank face smashed into that of amused shock. He smiled, displaying two rows of flawless teeth, surprisingly similar to his brother's. He took half a step back and turned toward the house to lean his back against the right side of the car. He seemed relaxed now, as if what I said actually broke the ice between two people who were practically strangers.
"Well, I guess I should have seen that coming a mile away. Actually, I came here to apologize to you," he confessed, signaling for me to come next to him. I didn't move. "I shouldn't have raised a hand at you. My temper got the best of me. Pardon my temporary insanity."
I was so prepared to defend myself and give him something to really think about, but instead of wanting to fight, he wanted to make peace, jokingly. I was still slightly suspicious, but moved to stand to his left nonetheless. As I moved, I noticed his eyes were the brightest thing under the gray skies and green surroundings. Another realization hit and I snapped my gaze onto his face again.
Those large pools of gold, that knightly posture, that fluid grace, that ghostly exterior, that icy aura, the timeless diction. The word rang in my ears as loud as a train, and it took all of my efforts to stay upright. It was finally sinking in. The unreality of it all and what it would mean.
But I wasn't standing next to a fanged monster with ruthless intentions. I was staring at a boy in his prime; a boy with flaws and visible feelings. He knew to apologize, knew to smile, knew to be human. He was always surrounded by people, and now myself, if he indeed was a powerful creature of the night, he would never stand here now, so comfortable and smiling. And I would not still be breathing as I stood beside him.
I entertained the possibility that what Rita told me, the entire conversation, was just a figment of my imagination. Just the mind's crazy attempt to explain wild curiosities. A dream with no trace. The weariness in my eyes quickly dispelled the thought. I hadn't slept more than a wink. I haven't been calm enough to drift from consciousness and I was edging toward another fainting spell. Dreams are bizarre, fragmented, and often without sense once one rose in the morning. But I could remember the moments vividly, without a lapse in sequence. My imagination is not that rich.
Perhaps she had lied to me. Whatever the reason for that was beyond me, but it was possible. Maybe she had hoped I would go blurting it on the rooftops and be committed to an institution. Or it could just be a joke, not meant to be taken seriously at all. No, I dismissed, it didn't fit. She was so gravely serious in my memory and so indecisive that it must've been a life or death decision for her. I've seen so many trained liars, but never one able to hide it in their eyes.
I watched Joseph's face, wondering how I should digest it all and confirm what I already know. I felt like I should run, flee from the truth and never turn back, but my legs would let me move. Fear had not struck the part of my brain that enabled muscle movement. I just felt chilled, a hollow sense of wonderment.
"In so many years, I thought I've seen all types of women," he started, turning to examine my face. "But one like you only comes once in a lifetime. You're only second to one."
"Catherine," I slipped in without thinking.
He stood up straight, surprised again by my response.
"He even told you about her?"
He wasn't angry. He seemed pleasantly astounded by the fact. I nodded, not mentioning who else told me about her or just how much of their stories I knew.
"You might have liked her. From the way she smiled to the way she got flustered was endearing. You could've passed as her sister."
As he spoke, he gazed at me, never actually seeing me. It was like he was seeing her through me. The way his eyes glittered nostalgically showed his love and commitment, the complete opposite of the aloof playboy of my past encounters.
Rita's sadness dropped in the forefront of my thoughts. She had claimed this boy cared about her underneath all his troubled exteriors, but I've only seen tenderness for a woman that passed. I felt wronged for her.
"And Rita?"
His expression turned abruptly serious and his eyes cautious. He retracted his gaze from my face and stared at the trimmed lawn instead. He glared at the blades of grass as if they were disorganized thoughts to be disciplined in place. When he didn't speak again, I tried once more.
"She is a tool to keep your mind off Catherine and a fire set under Jason, right?"
"If that were all she was, things would not be so painful," he snapped through locked jaws. "She's a lovely habit, too dear to break and too indecisive to keep."
I sensed his unease toward the subject and joined his staring at the grass method. I hoped that he would explain the riddle and eventually admit that he cared. Though it wouldn't be directly to Rita, it would be a step in the right direction. I asked myself why it mattered to me, and the only justification I could come up with was because I hated that look on Rita's face and I despised the way Joseph continued to dodge reality. I despised the look of helpless self-blame that torched his eyes from within.
"When you feel something so intense that it becomes a part in your life, its loss diminishes your acceptance of anything else. You're intent on recovering what you've lost to ease that new emptiness. With time, you even lose track of whether the hole is there anymore. You delude yourself into thinking the wound is still there and mourn it day after day. I didn't notice that I've been stitched up and have already let it all go. I can't even remember when I opened the flood gates and let her sneak into my chest. I didn't even know that she hid there, spreading her presence all over.
"The worst part is, when I did notice, my attempted to accept her ended in failure. I tell myself to do better. I always tell myself that I would do better each time, but I always disappoint her at the last second. I'm content accompanying her, but there are days when I wonder if it's better when I was alone. I deceive her and look for her when I don't want to be alone, and she forgives me, pretending to not see through my excuses. I know she's always the one beside me when I am experiencing another fit of self-destruction. I know it's wrong and it eats at my conscience, but I hope she'll always wait for me. I'm selfish, but I hope to always be the only one in her life."
I was careful to keep my face blank despite my internal desire to drive the heel of my boot into a vulnerable place of his. I kept my teeth locked, trapping the feminist words that willed desperately to escape. I told myself that I didn't fully understand, or even slightly understand the inner workings of their relationship. It wasn't my place to judge someone else on my standards, especially without a milligram of experience in love. There wasn't one right way to love someone, and somehow, this must be one of those ways.
"What about yesterday?" I questioned, hinting for him to undo the disastrous break-up scene.
"We're not over. Not even close. I haven't given up. I'm going to keep trying until I find a way to stop myself from hurting her and stay by her side like she has done for me."
He sighed and slowly turned toward me with an apologetic smile.
"I don't know why I'm spilling my guts to you. Maybe because you resemble Catherine in your way. Or maybe because you are a great listener and don't need to respond everything that's said. It's like venting into a well. I guess it's the same feeling that Jason experiences when he's around you. The same reason why you've broken his habit and become his support post, his Venus in the night sky."
Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and braced my impact into his body. I ended up awkwardly leaning into his embrace with my cheek pressed up against his chest. I let out a pressured breath from the unexpected movement and how much it hurt to fall against someone as sturdy as a redwood. Just then, I noticed that his rib cage was silent. My ears were smashed against where his heart should be, but I heard nothing. No steady pumping that flooded the veins with living fluids, just hollowed silence. Chills drove up and down my spine from Jason's grip and the impending acceptance that my sanity was definitely not the issue here.
Vampire, whispered the breeze that teased the trees around us. Drinkers of blood and lurkers of the night.
"I'm glad you came into our lives. Glad that you came into my brother's life. Happy that you can bring youthfulness back to his eyes. Happy that you made me realize that I'm not holding the grudge I thought I was. Thankful that you woke me up in time. Thankful that it had to be you. Thank you," he muttered into my ear.
Suddenly, I concluded that it didn't matter at all. I didn't care what they were or how that was possible. The only thing that matters is that they mean me no harm. They mean no one else any harm. They actually trusted me enough to reveal the side they've hidden for who knows how long. They've protected and joked with me as if we could possibly be equals.
It didn't matter if they were a different from humans, because there were so many things that they shared with us. In this way, they were more compassionate and humane than anyone could imagine being. They could live in peace with their prey. All the secrets were just to avoid persecution and extinction. I couldn't blame them for wanting to avoid being hunted like wild animals, captured, and experimented on by some scientist in a white lab coat who considers himself to be doing good for mankind. All of their secrets meant loneliness that no one could ever fathom.
I was the one they reached out to. I couldn't bring myself to betray such an act of trust. I couldn't be cruel enough to fear and flee from their friendship. That would make me the monster. And I would be leaving soon; it would become a distant memory to me when the plane lifted from the launch strip. It would be only a grain of sand on a beach that I knew what they were. It was not of extreme significance that cinema has made it to be.
"You're welcome," I said, smiling into his lifeless chest.
He hugged me for another second before loosening his grip and pulling away so that I was an arm's length away. He bent, leveling himself to my height and used my shoulders as leverage. I saw his eyes wander back to the car and toward the house and then settled back on my face. His face was blank again.
"You're leaving," he established firmly, not even allowing me a way to deny it.
I glanced at the car. Mick left the plane tickets tucked inside our passports and lying openly on the back seat. It was pretty visible despite the tinted windows. I looked at the house. A For Sale sign was stabbed down in the middle of the lawn with my mother's phone number neatly written on it. Clear signs of human migration. I nodded, confirming his statement.
Joseph dug his hand into his pocket and reemerged with a tiny, wrinkled piece of paper. He used his other hand to grab mine, facing it palm up in front of him. He slapped the paper into it and closed my fingers around the object. I looked up at him quizzically.
"That fool probably doesn't know a thing. Promise me, before you leave, at least tell him goodbye," he requested, recoiling his touch again.
I grinned. He was concerned about his brother, proving that he really has indeed come to terms with the past. He even addressed Jason as his brother when he was hugging me. He's learned how to forgive. Before I could give him a reply, he cautiously stared at my front door for a whole three seconds and took a step back.
"Time for me to go," he informed. "Goodbye for now. I'll definitely bring him to see you soon."
He had a humorous smile on his angular face. He must be joking with me. This was the part of Joseph that would never change. Seeing this made me feel relieved. Like everything, for them, could return to how it once was without worries of exposure. No one else will ever have to know.
"Looking forward to it. Come find me when you all aren't dysfunctional anymore," I answered, also joking.
It would be nearly impossible for us to meet again, especially now that we almost literally live in two contrasting worlds. I didn't have to ruin Joseph's light mood though.
Joseph waved at me with two fingers and turned. I heard footsteps from the house and twisted around just in time to see Mick emerge from it with a carry-on bag in his right hand. Mick smiled radiantly as he made his way to me. I waved at him and turned to where Joseph stood. All that was left was pavement and a lingering stir of the space where he was supposed to be. I hadn't even heard him leave and he was nowhere in sight now, disappeared like so much a daydream.
"Ready?" Mick asked, throwing the bag into the back seat on top of the tickets with a quick thrust followed by a careless slam of the door.
I muttered a small yes while staring at my hand, clenched tight around the piece of paper. I was uncertain of why it suddenly felt like I was gripping an icicle. It sent continuous dulling chills up my arm into my chest, filling my heart with a noticeable ache. It is only now that some of Joseph's words, almost insignificant when he spoke of it compared to the supernatural truth, started to sink under my skin and took its effect.
"The same reason why you've broken his habit and become his support post, his Venus in the night sky."
The habit: the ghost of a wound that pained the heart over the years. It was the stubborn unwillingness to progress from tragedy and grief. Venus: the appealing lady of fate carrying with her the only cure for heartache and a new beginning of love. The four letter word was a cliché that fools chased after all their lives only to get scathed by its imitator of pretenses. Jason was a fool. He'd been pricked by it once yet he once again allowed himself contact with it again.
Even as I reasoned it out, something in my chest quietly celebrated the new found knowledge. I've never experienced it, but I instantly recognized the dysfunction. The swelling of the heart, the anticipation of seeing him, and the slight fluctuation in mood when it wasn't him. I frowned, knowing how late my reaction was and how meaningless it was. And most of all, it was unwise, childish, and stereotypical. Everything I disliked in girls my age.
"Come on or we'll be late."
Before I could even recover my scattered attention, Mick was bulldozing me back toward the car. He helped me in, made sure I strapped my seatbelt in place, and closed the door before coming around to the driver's side. I only vaguely remembered him slipping into his seat and start the engine. I only clearly recall that we were suddenly driving along two lanes of vehicles. And the quiet chatter of the radio and Mick's silence left me alone in my rush hour thoughts.
I finally opened my palm, remembering the folded piece of paper still in my hand. I was lucky. Mick was a very attentive driver and he rarely noticed much around him when he was on the road. He didn't make conversation and he didn't want distractions other than the monotone of the stereo. As long as I was conspicuous, he would not be any the wiser.
It was a piece of paper torn from an ordinary notebook with a phone number neatly written out with black ink. It wasn't Jason's penmanship. His were careful, neat, and precise strokes with a hint of his age in the curves of each letter. These were elongated, elegant, and feminine strokes with slanted letters. The handwriting fitted Rita but each stroke resurrected the odd encounters that seemed centuries old now. The first run-in, the scrambling first kiss, the speeding that could've resulted in accidents, the short-lived arguments, the clumsiness that was at its worst whenever he was around, and the brief smiles existing within the millions of things that were unsaid. Most of all, the hand that held and shielded the pureness of my childhood.
I was glad. Glad that it was him. Love was too strong of a word for the tingling of my limbs right now. What I felt was more than a crush, a little more than like, but not enough to be love. It was still short and sweet. We've not had enough together to stamp the heart permanently with its impression. Regardless, I was happy that it had to be him. He is a fool, extraordinary, sensitive and loyal. I couldn't have stumbled onto a better person. I can always remember my first as admirable and respectable.
I had one last promise to complete.
I shifted in my seat and yanked my cell phone from my back pocket. I unlocked the screen and flipped to the phone function. Three rows of giant numbers was pulled up with a blinking insertion bar. I glanced at the numbers on the piece of paper and tapped it in. I rechecked the numbers for mistakes and moved to touch the dial button. The icon glared at me from the top of the screen like a siren in the dead of night. I pressed it instead, and the numbers disappeared, pulling up another screen.
Goodbye.
Below the word was the name and date in which the message was saved printed in block letters. It was yesterday afternoon before I got home. I glanced at Mick, who was wholeheartedly focused on the strip of road ahead. We were on the freeway now.
Since I received it yesterday, my phone hadn't left my sight once. I had it in my hand when I woke up at the school clinic. Someone must've messed with it when I was unconscious. And I was quite certain of who that was. He was with me before I fainted and must've dragged me to the clinic. Except he wasn't there when I woke up and Mick didn't mention seeing anyone else there with me.
There was only one fool who would do something so silly as a final greeting. But I wondered how he knew I was leaving when I've told no one about this. However he found out, she should have said this in person. This was a fool's way of caring about someone. I deleted the message, slightly annoyed by his avoidance. Once the note was deleted, a list of options replaced the screen. Every option, from inbox to outbox was marked empty, but I noticed that the draft box was marked with one document inside. I haven't written anything or saved anything to that box either. I tapped the option and another note popped onto the screen. This one with a few more words than the first.
I'm so sorry, but I love you.
A smile formed on my lips. Only a fool would apologize for falling in love with someone. Only a fool would try to swallow the words when it is already formed on the tongue. Only a fool would try to erase his confession only to have it discovered anyway. Only a fool would confess over a cellular device. Everything about him was so traditional yet he didn't know how to court correctly.
I saved the note and exited the program. This time, I pulled up a new text message and tapped in the numbers on the paper into the recipient box. Below it, I typed:
I know everything.
"Goodbye." "I'm so sorry but I love you." What do you really want to say to me? How do you want me to respond?
Bye. I like you. But it could just be a crush, right?
I typed send and locked the screen again. The smile on my lips grew. All this time he's kept me in the dark and made me confused too many times. It is only fair I left him something to be confused about too.
It isn't like me to be unwise, childish, and stereotypical. But it was even more unlike me to not face what I feel when I finally figure it out. Now that I've gotten it off my chest, it should be easier to get over it and leave it behind without too many regrets. I knew he wasn't going to answer that since he purposely avoided me after knowing that I was leaving today. I didn't expect him to. It was more for myself since we ended here. Better even, that we ended without meeting.
I stared at the dark screen of the phone in contentment. After a moment, I dropped it on the seat next to my thigh and pushed the tiny piece of paper securely into my pocket. I touched the bracelet dangling from my wrist. The cherry hairpin swung from the platinum links, sparkling in its own light as a memento of the person I'll always remember.
Mick took the exit and the airport slid into view ahead.
Author's Note: Review! Show your support! Answer the question above! Next stop will be the new Abby, the businesswoman and the heiress. And also, the new Jason, reinvented by his brother of course. I'm excited, aren't you? By the way, Interesting Info will be postponed this time and will be back next time. REVIEW!