The Meaning of Love
Lapis' P.O.V.
Two weeks pass with my dad calling every single day after rehearsals jus to check on us. After three days, it gets annoying.
Today, will be the last day the whole cast will be together until like, next month, which is like two weeks. But that day will be our first dance rehearsal. And I am not excited about that. I'll look really bad and it will be extremely embarrassing.
While Jamie works with Steven and the male cast on his very big and amazingly hilarious number as King George III, I copy Peridot's science homework. My handwriting, for once, is surprisingly decent. I write it in pen.
"Hey, guys?" Blue asks. I turn to her while finishing the big complicated science words I'm never going to use in my life.
"Yeah?" I ask her.
"Do you guys think there's a difference between definition and meaning?" she asks. Before I even have time to process it, Peridot beats me to it.
"A lot of people may say there isn't, but in my opinion there is. A subtle one, but quite significant. Definition is the definite value people without morals have put on certain things while meaning is the personal significance individuals put on different things," Peridot explains.
I turn to look at Prince Charming with his amazing hot crooked grin l, soft blond hair, and forest green eyes that I can get lost in and wouldn't mind at all. Since when did I get so cliche? Anyway, I can't believe I didn't figure out who he was sooner. Peridot may have had his reasons not to tell me, but I still believe it would have facilitated his advances on me a lot. I fell in love with the guy on the other side of the fence even though he was such a nerd.
"Wow, thanks," Blue says as she looks down at a notebook on her desk and starts writing rapidly though I wonder how she even remembers what Peridot said if I just forgot everything.
"What're you writing?" I ask her.
"Oh, it's just a hobby. I like to ask questions like these and see what different people say," she explains.
"Really? How many people have you asked?" I ask.
"So far, five people," she says.
"What other questions you got? I'm feeling deep and poetic today," Peridot asks. Luke and Scarlett turn around in their seats, and I turn to my right to find Amethyst, Ruby, and Sapphire also intent. Blue finishes writing and looks up. She smiles as she looks at all of us.
"We game," Amethyst says.
Her smile reaches her eyes as her eyes settle on me. She looks back down on her notebook and flips through pages, ocassionaly pausing on a couple hut mumbling things like 'no', 'too complicated', 'no space', 'maybe later', until she finally stops on one page and looks up. She looks at Luke and Scarlett, Ruby and Sapphire, Amethyst, and then she looks at Peridot and I. The only problem I have with that look, is that she looked at Peridot and I, the same way she looked at Luke, Scarlett, Ruby, and Sapphire. As a couple. And I am not joking. Amethyst is unknowingly third wheeling here.
"Okay. What is the meaning of love?" Blue asks us.
Almost automatically I respond, "Complete trust,"
"With the right amount of lust," Peridot adds. I turn to him with that face saying, the fuck?
"Ignore what he said," I say turning around to Blue.
"And affection-" Luke starts.
"And details between all ends," Scarlett finishes.
"And betrayal," Amethyst says. I turn to her with the same face I gave Peridot.
"Ignore that too," I say.
"With-" Ruby starts but Sapphire cuts in with her low and soft yet demanding voice.
"Respect and loyalty. Forgive me, but you would have not found the right words," Sapphire says.
Sapphire is a psychic. Every time she does something like this, I am convinced more that she is an Oracle that speaks with clarity of what will happen instead of talking in rhymes and phrases with no meaning.
"Umm, okay," Ruby says.
I turn back to Blue who finishes up writing every we said. She writes fast, her handwriting is messy and small.
"Blue, you have what my father would call, doctor's handwriting," Scarlett says as she sticks her hand into a dorito bag Luke holds up for her.
Luke really is like a mini-Peridot. Though I don't believe him to be as reckless or daring as Peridot, he looks at Scarlett the same way Peridot looks at me. With a spark in his eyes as if he were watching the most spectacular fireworks show in his life. Obviously his life doesn't revolve around Scarlett, but when they are together, you'd have to be blind to not see the magnetic field pulling them together. Like Luke and Scarlett, Peridot's life doesn't revolve around me, and mine doesn't revolve around him. We don't depend completely on each other. It's a great help with keeping our relationship a secret from everyone.
"What kind of handwriting is that?" Blue asks as she finishes writing and looks up at her.
"Handwriting that is just understandable," Scarlett says smiling.
"It's not that bad. At least my teacher can read it," Blue says with a smile.
"That it is true," Scarlett says. Her british accent and long red hair make her sound and look, smarter and older than she actually is. While everyone around us talks, I ask Peridot again for his science homework. He gives it to me without hesitating. One of the good things about having a smart ass guy for a boyfriend, free science and math answers. And apart from being a smart ass, he's a fucking good looking smart ass. Just a perk to the whole relationship ordeal.
I see him staring at me through the corner of my eye and I smile, half with embarrassment, half because I am flattered. I'm glad everyone else is pre-occupied with their own conversations and work.
"Stop looking at me," I half whisper.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because. There are people here, and, just because," I say.
"Best explanation ever. You know sooner or later they're going to find out. One way or another," he tells me.
"But not through us. You nor me will say anything. And they won't find out today," I say.
I'm happy. And I want to keep it to myself. I want to keep my relationship a secret as long as I can. It'll be something intimite. If everyone finds out, it won't be so private. It'll be something everyone knows and it won't seem so special anymore. Romantic relationships are better when ot's just two people and no one else is there to judge or suggest or anything. It makes it unique.
But another reason I want to keep it a secret is because of Pearl. I'm not afraid of her, but I don't want another problem when things are finally settling down.
"Fine," he says. I finish copying his science homework and I give it back to him. Then I start to do my social studies homework which is extremely easy.
And that, is when Jamie calls us all back around the piano. Peridot and I stand next to eachother and share a lyric sheet.
For the last fifteen minutes, we practice and perfect the first and last songs, Alexander Hamilton and Who lives, Who Dies, Who Tells your Story?
For Alexander Hamilton I barely have any more solo lyrics than Peridot does. And that is saying a lot because Peridot is the fucking lead here. But Who Lives, Who Does, Who Tells Your Story. I fucking steal that song. I finish that song. I practically finish the whole musical. I brag about that to Peridot because he is the lead and he doesn't even say a single word or noise in the last song.
I get to sing my part in Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story. We get to the end of the song with few interuptions. I smile at myself. Even though I'm still not exactly thrilled at starring at a musical at my high school, there's nothing I can do about it, so I might as well make the most of it. I have't really practiced as you might say practice, but I listen to every morning when I walk to school. Really, the only thing I have to work on(according to Jamie) is putting emotion into my singing.
He says I need a lot of emotion. Apparently, I'm too nuetral! And when I'm not neutral, I'm bitter and depressed. I'm sorrh but it's not my fucking faut that I haven't lost husband and my eldest son in real life. Must be because I'm seventeen and this is the fucking twenty-first century!
When rehearsals end, Peridot and I take our time so no one see us leave together. When we leave school, we make sure no one is there, then we both walk out. He takes my hand and we walk like that for a couple of minutes. He jokes around telling me about what happened in the periods in which I'm not in his class. I slip out of his hand and hook my arm around his.
"And my social studies teacher, she was all like, you're all going to fail and a bunch of other shit. Just because some people didn't give in the homework," he says.
"How many people didn't give it in?" I ask.
"Nearly the whole class," he says.
"Let me rephrase. How many people gave it in?" I ask.
"Like three," he respond.
"Did you give it in?" I ask looking up at him.
"Of course, I did. I gave a nintyeight on her class," he respond.
"Just out of curiosity, what did you get on the social studies regents?" I ask.
"Which one?"
"Umm, US History,"
"Oh, umm, I forgot. Let me check," Peridot takes his phone out.
"I got a 97," he says. I smile at myself, "What are you smiling about?"
"I got a one hundred!" I say rubbing it in.
"You took it last year?" he asks.
"Well yeah. Didn't you?" I ask.
"Nope I took it in eight grade!" he rubs that in.
"You did not," I say.
"I did. I took the ELA Composition, US History, Living Enviorment, and Algebra 1 in Eight grade!" he says.
"You did not," I repeat.
"I did. They were called Regents Classes back in my middle school. They were the top four classes. In the Regents Classes we also took the French profficiency which is one of the reasons I am a natural at the language of love," he whispers it right in my ear which tickles.
"You're smart but you're not that much of a fucking smart ass," I say.
"I am, Lazuli. I am as you say, 'a fucking smart ass,'" he says. We both laugh.
"Wait, so couldn't you have graduated last year?" I ask.
"Technically yes. But instead of going straight to college, I decided to stay the year. Do college classes without much pressure and hey it's free!" he says, "Everything free is good!"
"True though," I say.
"But then if I would have gone, I woudln't have met you either," he says.
"Reunited. Met is something else," I state.
"You surprise me," he says.
"You surprise me too," I reply.
Then Peridot freezes and turns around.
"You okay?" I ask.
It's still day, so there is still a lot of light. When I look where he is looking, I'm actually kind of scared.
There's always a bunch of guys that are just there waiting for someone to employ them. And for some reason, it's always just the Mexican guys. But I'm not judging from that. I'm judging from the fact that they're always speaking to women saying fucking things that an older guy shouldn't be saying to a younger girl or any girl for the matter of fact. And not only that, but a couple of them are always fucking drunk.
I take a step back because I'm afraid. They've never said anything to me because I always walk on the opposite side. I've been cautious. Yet still, we've somehow managed to end up walking through a pack of these guys.
"Se te perdio algo?" Peridot asks the guys but in a really demanding voice. My years of spanish classes kick in.
"You speak spanish?" I ask under my breath, though I speak too low for him to hear.
"Te pregunte algo!"
"Y si, si que? Que nos vas a hacer?" one of the guys answers. Clearly, they do not know my boyfriend.
The only thing I find funny in this awkward and scary situation is that Peridot is almost taller than all of them.
"Esto!" Before I have time to say anything, Peridot punches the guy across the face. Peridot punches the guy so hard, he falls to the floor. The other guys huddle around their fallen comerade.
I snap put of my trance of fear and grab Peridot's arm and pull him back. He fights against me, but I manage to put his senses back into his brain.
"Let's go!" I tell him. He looks at me and then for some reason he takes off running. He stops, turns, grabs my wrist, and takes off running again. My steps falter a bit, but I manage.
We run. I pant because I've never been good at running, especially with a heavy backpack on, a guy pulling me by my wrist, while running from another pack of guys my boyfriend just picked a fucking feud with!
It's almost four. It's plain daylight, and this feels as though this should have happened at night.
After an unbearable minute of running and being dragged, Peridot pulls me around a corner and my back, my backpack rather, hits the wall.
Fucking shit.
As I pant and put my hands on my knees, I say through breaths, "Fucking latin too,"
"Barely. Though I do know a little bit of Greek," he says.
"How?" I ask.
"My dad was half greek," he responds in a lower voice.
"Okay. Anyway, what happened back there?" I ask.
"You didn't hear what they said?" he asks me.
"No. What did they say?" I ask.
"Nothing," he answers.
"Tell me," I say.
"No," he answers.
"Yes,"
"It's not important,"
"If it makes you punch someone then yes, it is important," I answer. He hesitates.
"Things, Lazuli. Things. Things I don't want to say. Lets just leave it there," he says. I decide not to push it. He's usually really open on things, when he doesn't want to be, then its usually for a good reason. And to be honest, I'm not sure if I want to know the reason.
"Let's just go home," I say.
We walk and I try to make small talk. When we get to my house, I unlock the door and Jane greets me, completely ignoring Peridot. Jane follows us upstairs.
Peridot is awfully quiet. He's been so cheeful all day, so him. And now he's just so quiet which is nothing like him. Jane does something peculiar. She grabs her kangaroo toy and puts it on Peridot's lap. She looks at him and then at me. I put my backpack down and sit next to him on my bed.
"What's wrong?" I ask. I've never seen him like this.
"Lazuli." he says. His voice breaks. He starts crying.
I didn't think he would cry. He's Peridot. Too everyone, Peridot is unbreakable, yet here he is crying. We all have our brealing points, that's what he said to me. And here he is, at his breaking point. Something terrible must have happened for him to break this bad.
I put my arms around him and he puts his head on my shoulder. He snuggles his face against my neck which makes me blush and smile from nervousness.
"What's wrong?" I ask again but more softly this time. I rub his back as he crying dies.
"I-my," his sobs interupt his words. I put a hand on his head.
"Okay, calm down. Take a deep breath," I say softly. When did I become a mother? I ask myself.
He listen to me and takes deep breaths. He calms down before speak.
"My mom is pregnant," his voice cracks again.
My mind goes blank.
Peridot's mom is pregant. And he's upset about that.
"There's more?" I ask.
"She's pregnant with fucking Stephan's kid!" he yells into my neck. It startles me.
"My-my mom, she's-she's my mom! Stephan's not my dad, Lazuli! This wasn't supposed to happen!" he says, sobbing. I rub his head, not knowing exactly what to say. My eyes tear even though I'm though I'm not sure why.
"Peridot," I say. I really have no clue what's going on, "It's okay,"
"It's my fault. It's all my fault. It's my fucking fault this is happening," he says. I open my mouth to contradict me, but he beats me to it.
"My mom and my dad had mr at a young age. They were teenagers, just seniors in high school. My parents, they-they did what they did, they had sex and I-I-" he takes a moment as a sob breaks his sentence, "I was a mistake. A fucking accident!"
Since I've met him, he's always been so cheerful. He was so open about everything, even when I insinuated that he was a player. The only subject that's ever been touchy for him, is his father who abandoned him and Luke. And even then, he's never cried. At least not like this.
Two weeks ago when I confessed that I have HIV and that I was raped, he teared up, but he didn't cry. Not like this. He didn't break down. I didn't think it possible. The Peridot everyone knows doesn't cry or break down or blame himself saying his own life was a mistake.
I once thought like that. Once, I blamed myself for what happened to me. I thought it really was my fault. But it wasn't. Nothing justified rape. Yet I still blamed myself. I thought no one loved me. I thought that it was my fault that everyone was so cold with me. If someone looked at me weird, it was my fault. If someone stopped talking to me, it was my fault. If the car broke down mid-winter on the way to the doctor's appointment, it was my fault. Everything was my fault. Even if I had nothing to do with it. The only thing worse than feeling like your existence has ruined everyhting is seeing someone you love blame themselves for something they had no control over.
"Peridot-" I start, but he interupts.
"It was my fault my parents had to be together, and then it was my fault they divorced. I was a wimp. I couldn't stick up for myself. So because of me they seperated and he abandoned us," he continues, "And now it's my fault my mom's going to have a kid with that guy!"
I hold him tighter.
"You are not a mistake, Peridot. Even if you were an accident," I say, "Being an accident doesn't make you a mistake,"
My eyes tear up at my own words.
"Have you talked with your mom? Or Luke?" I ask.
I don't know how Luke would respond to Peridot telling him this, nor do I know their mom enough to know either. I doubt he's spoken to them. Talking about stuff like this to anyone isn't easy. I never speak to my parents about stuff like this willingly, much less did I tell my psychiatrist, or anyone else who was supposed to help me. Only Jane ever knew how I felt, my thoughts, and how badly I wanted to end my life.
For some reason, it's easier to speak with friend then it is to parents or family. There's some sort f different trust and some reason you can confide in them and not your own parents. I told stuff to Marcy sometimes. She always told me to think positive, to tell me parents, that things would get better, it never seemed to be true. But I guess I just needed someone to speak to who wasn't going to freak out and make me be on a higher dose of anti-depressants.
"No," he manages to say.
"Lazuli," he pauses. He seperates from me and puts his hands on the side of my face, but he doesn't look at me. He looks down, "What-what if I turn out to be like him?"
I told my dad two weeks ago that Peridot had. a father who abandoned him. My dad said the exact same thing. That theres was a probabilprobability that Peridot would turn out like his father. I didn't believe it. I know Peridot enough to know that he wouldn't be capable of doing something like that. I refuse to believe something so ridiculous. I refuse to let him believe something like that.
"No. You won't. You're not like that," I say.
"I'm sorry," he says. After a few more minutes of breathing and silence, he calms down.
"Is that how you really feel?" I ask him.
"Sometimes," he responds.
"You're not a mistake. Just like you told me, we all have breaking points," I say, rubbing his back.
"How long have you felt like this?" I ask.
"A really long time," he responds.
"You never stopped feeling lonely, did you?" I ask.
"Not really."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask.
"I don't like to think about those things. But when mom told us that she was pregnant a day ago, I realised that I felt worse than I let on. When those assholes said what they said and when you asked me from where I knew Spanish, I started to feel really bad," he says. He sniffles. I put my hand on his soft blond hair.
"We're not mistakes. Maybe accidents, but not mistakes," I say. Peridot snuggles his head against my neck and I hear the softest of chuckle.
"That was pretty cliche," he says. I giggle lightly.
"Look who's talking, Prince Charming," I say.
We sit there for a couple of minutes in silence. Jane stares at us, mostly at me though. I smile at her. She yawns and lays down, her head on her paws.
These last few days have been so quiet, so tranquil, so lovely. Everything seemed fine to me. But apparently it's not. How could I had not known how he felt? He knows so much about me, it feels bad to feel like I can't tell when he's upset. If I had known, I would hav done something sooner. I would have helped him. I would have done something, anything.
"You want to go on a date with me?" he asks lowly.
"You were just crying a moment ago, and now you're asking me on a date?" I ask. He really is unbelievable.
"Should I do more crying?" he asks.
"No," I say.
"So your answer?"
I don't know why I hesitate. I like him, and we don't have any secrets from each other.
I thought that love solved every problem. And I guess maybe it doesn't, but it does make them a lot more bearable.
"Yes," I say.
"Tomorrow? After rehearsals," he says.
"To where?" I ask.
"I'll give you a choice. Movie theatre or dinner," he says.
"Diner?" I ask.
"Yeah. We can go to a restaurant or a diner, and eat something. Or we can go see a movie," he explains.
"Well definately not dinner," I say.
"Then movie theatre it is," he says.
"But what'll we watch?" I ask.
"Umm," he thinks. Then he separates from me and tale his phone out. He rubs his red eyes and starts typing stuff into his phone.
"I mean, there's Frozen II if you want to go see that, or we could watch-I think they still have the Joker in theatres too," he starts suggesting more movies and telling me what he thinks of each of them.
I smile. At least he's not crying anymore, I think to myself. But I know he's still upset. I can tell from personal expirience. It's not easy when you think everything is your fault, much less when it actually is. He hasn't done anything wrong though and this isn't about me. I'll do everything I can to keep him from blaming himself, to keep him distracted from that thought.
"So what do you think?" he asks me.
"What?" I ask.
"Where you listening?" he asks.
"Umm, of course I was. Umm, but just in case, can you repeat the choices?" I ask. He just smiles and puts an arm around me.
"Why don't we just watch Frozen?" he suggests.
"Isn't it kind of childish?" I ask.
"Frozen, childish? Never heard of such juxtaposition," he says.
"What the fuck is juxtaposition?" I ask.
"A rhetorical device from the AP Language class I took in 9th grade," he says.
"Wow. Because that totally answers my question," I sarcastically state. I slip my hand into his. He puts his phone down and uses his free hand to move me bangs, and then he kisses my forehead. He then puts his hand under my chin and lifts my face to meet his.
"You hated me once," he says.
I smile and say, "I had my reasons to,"
"May I just hear what those reasons were?" he asks smiling.
"Okay. Well you know most of them. I thought you were a player, and that all you wanted from me was, you know, sex," I start. It's still uncomfortable to say it even though we're very open with those things.
"Okay, nevermind. Let's talk about other stuff," he says. I laugh, "Oh, very funny, Lazuli,"
I keep laughing regardless. That is when Peridot decides to tackle me onto my bed and start tickling me. Jane stands and puts her two front legs on the bed, staring as my boyfriend assaults me by tickling me.
I continue to laugh until tears form in my eyes and my stomach hurts. He laughs to, but he'snot the one being tickled. At one point I feel like I'm going to shit my pants.
"Wait! Stop! I-I'm going to pee myself!" I yell while still laughing. He stops.
"Well we wouldn't want that, now would we?" he asks. I calm down and get up and run straight to the bathroom.
"You're fucking lucky that I'm not on my period!" I say.
"Lucky me," he says through the door. I finish up, wash my hands, and then go outside. He stand there with his crooked grin, looking down on me. Sometimes I don't like being smaller than him, and sometimes I do. I'm all for equality and all that shit, but I've always imagined that if I ever did have a boyfriend, I'd want them to be taller than me. Not extremely taller, but just taller.
"Did you wash you hands?" he asks. I nod. He puts his hand into mine and puts his free hand around my waist. I put my free hand on his bicep. My back and my head straighten against the wall as Peridot stares down at me. Jane, now lying on my bed, stares at us with her head down on top of her paws. Suddenly, I am nervous. After a moment he slips his hand out out mine and puts it on the side of me face.
I think of all the ways this can go wrong. I try to figure out what he's thinking, but it's no use. Suddenly, its hard to meet his gaze. I avoid his eyes.
"I love you," he says so softly that if there were more noise, I probably wouldn't have heard him.
I smile and look to the side. His hand doesn't really let me. His eyes are so green. In the daylight they're light and clear, but without light, they're dark green, a forest green. So tempting, so safe, yet so toxic.
"I know it's a little too early to be thinking about this but," he starts, then pauses.
What the fuck does that mean? What's he talking about? My heart rate races and my skin feels colder. Could he talking about marriage? About having a family? I may be overreacting, but these are real fears.
"I want to know if you want to go to prom with me," he finishes.
I sigh with relief. After I am relieved from my stress of the unknown, I think about that word. Prom. Such an ugly word for a genius torture device.
"Prom?" I ask, uncterain.
"Yeah. You don't have to wear a dress if you don't want to. But it would be fun. All of our friends will go and I'm gonna be sneaking Luke and Scarlett in-" he goes on about the advantages of going.
I hate prom. I've never really been to one, but dancing is not my thing. Being around other organic life forms, not my thing either. Peridot and Jane are an exception. But prom just doesn't seem like something I could do. Besides, it's a party, I hate parties. But how can I tell him no? After what he's told me, after he broke down in front of me. I can't say no. I want to keep him preoccupied so he won't have time to think about the things that worry and weigh him. I want to be there, I want to be a good girlfriend, I want to be good enough. And I hate myself for not being able to, regardless of how much I want to. Especailly when Peridot does it all the time for me.
"I'll think about it," I respond when he finishes. He just smiles and kisses my forhead again. He then hugs me, and holds me like that in complete silence. It makes me feel warm, and guilty at the same time.
When I was younger, I, like every other naive young girl, thought love solved everything. Apparently, it doesn't. Sometimes, it makes things worse. You feel even guiltier. At least I'm not alone. That's the real meaning of love, isn't it?
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