I groan as my dream fades away, and I'm faced with the light which shines through my eyelid. Damn, it had been quite a pleasant dream, too. So why can't I remember it? I sigh, turn over, and bury my head in my pillows, but try as I might, I just can't get back to sleep. It looks like another day in Forget-Me-Not Valley. I lay still for a moment while I try to summon the immense energy that I needed just to pull myself out of bed these days. I shiver as my feet hit the wooden floor, which, for some unfathomable reason, is freezing cold.
I walk to the bathroom to take care of and regard myself in the mirror. Messy red hair, which I run a comb through, straight, even teeth, which I brush, and a markedly small bust, covered by my yellow nightgown. Five minutes later, I exit the bathroom, only to begin another day as an outcast in a village which seems filled to the brim with morons.
"Hello Nami, how are you this morning?" Asked Ruby, smiling as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
I force a smile. I don't especially like Ruby, or anybody in the valley for that matter, but since Ruby and Tim took me in, I'm grateful to them, so I fake it. "I'm doing fine." I say. I feel like such a fraud, but I don't even care any more.
"Y'know, there's a new guy coming to town today. He's about your age... I thought you might like to meet him." Said Ruby with a smile.
I decline, and head out the door. Funny, just a minute ago, I couldn't wait to get outside, but now that I was, what was there to do? Am I so pathetic that I can't think of anything to do with myself, even on a day as warm as this.
As I wander, I start to think about myself. My name is Nami. The name means wave, and I like. I think it suits me, 'cause I usually feel as melancholy as the sound of the waves on an empty beach.
Whenever somebody interests me enough to talk to them, they always assume that my parents beat me or neglected me. The truth is probably worse than that. I was born into a happy, normal loving family. Yuck. Back then, I was positively bubbly. My parents loved there little girl. She was always bringing happiness to others! She was so empathetic! And she always brought home such good grades! I think that my troubles started in Sunday School. We would all put on our most uncomfortable clothes, file into the big white building, and sit for hours on end while they stuffed our heads with lies about the Harvest Goddess.
When I was around eight years old, I started to ask questions. Questions which made the priests uncomfortable. Questions like "If the Harvest Goddess loves us so much, then why do we have to make sacrifices to her?" And "If the Harvest Goddess really exists, then why can't we see her? Why doesn't she even talk to us?" After three months of this I got kicked out of Sunday school. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why. All I did was ask questions. Didn't all the other kids ask questions, too? Why did they single me out like that! I was awfully naive back then.
I bumped into something that seemed like a giant brick wall. I had been walking fairly rapidly, and not watching where I was going. I looked up and saw somebody huge and black.
It was Cody!
Cody is cool. He's an artist who lives in this valley, and I really respect him. He's a dreamer, and I don't think that he is of this world. If he could empty his head, his dreams would fill up the entire earth and build a bridge to the stars.
He crossed his arms and smiled at me. "Not paying attention, huh Nami?"
I grin sheepishly. "Yeah, that's a bad habit of mine."
He smiles at me, and nods. That's the reason I like Cody so much. Our thought processes are so alike that there's no need for words between us. We can just sit there for hours together, not speaking, and yet saying so much. When I first me Cody, I could tell we were destined to be great friends. He swears that he actually heard us clicking, which is nonsense. When I'm around Cody, I always feel at ease.
And I feel safe, too. Cody is easily the biggest person in Forget-Me-Not valley. It's kind of funny, really. Wally, with his daily workouts, bench presses and cross-country runs, can't even hope to make Cody flinch. Cody's regiment consists mainly of painting, standing around, thinking, and occasionally working with some of that metal he has.
We sat in silence for awhile, when I realized I had skipped breakfast. I was awfully hungry, so I decided to head for the Blue Bar to get a bite to eat.
"The Blue Bar has really good grilled yams. You should try them, Nami." Like I said, there was no need for words between the two of us.
I headed, resentfully to the Blue Bar. The closest thing I have to a good mood around here is when I'm sitting with Cody or talking with Daryl, and I really didn't want to leave Cody, but my stomach was growling at me, and fighting it would be a losing battle.
"Hey Nami! What can I get you today?" Said Muffy, after I took my seat. I hate Muffy. That woman is so god damn friendly that I can't stand it! I would think that after I had snubbed for as long as I had, she would take the hint, but apparently not.
"A plate of Sashimi, some Earth Soup, and some Grilled Yam please." I state in my usual monotone. "Oh, and a MooMoo Milk." I was never a big fan of alcohol at lunch.
"Coming right up!" She says. Five minutes later, she brings the food out. She goes on a tirade of gossip and speculation, and I give her my usual one-word answers.
After lunch, Cody is nowhere to be found, so I go back to my dutiful wandering.
When I was fourteen, tragedy struck our happy family. My mother was a beautiful woman. Tall, flaxen-haired, with emerald green, and a soft, round face which always seemed to be smiling vapidly. And let's just say that I most definitely did not inherit my bust size from her side of the family. My father was absolutely enamored with her.
But I, on the other hand never really liked her. She had always seemed... somewhat distant with all of us. I never got the same feeling from her as my father. My father's love for us was palpable. You could tell it was there in all the small gestures, whether it was buying us ice cream, getting us gifts for no reason, or just the spontaneous hugs, we could tell that he loved us. My mother did all the things a mother was supposed to do, tell us she loved us, pack our lunches, kiss our wounds, but I somehow felt that her heart wasn't in it. This was a totally baseless accusation, and I knew it. If I was asked to explain why I felt this, the closest I could possibly come would probably be "I don't know, I just... I just feel it."
I talked to my father about this, but he didn't believe me. My father was a wonderful man, but I think he was just a little too sentimental for his own good. Whenever I would try to explain, his eyes would just glaze over and he would talk about how wonderful and kind and beautiful she was.
Anyway, on the fateful night, while I was pretending to read, while really pondering my mother, and why she was wearing her nicest red gown, the best makeup she had, high heels, and her best jewelry, but not her wedding ring. somebody knocked on our door. My mother opened the door, and revealed a tall, tanned man with laughing brown eyes. For whatever reason he wore a tuxedo.
He smiled at my mother and said "Are you ready?"
My mother nodded and said "Yes dearest."
In an instant, she was in his arms explaining, with occasional ineffectual protests from my dad, how she was in love with this man, and how she'd been meeting him in secret for the past three and half years, and how she was now going to elope with him to some tropical country and have her marriage with my father annulled.
I can't say I was surprised. Shocked, yes. Angry, yes. Surprised? Sad? No.
My younger brother, then five years old, looked at my mother strangely. "But mommy, when are you coming back?" He asked.
My mother and the man just laughed. "Awww, that's so cute! He thinks we're coming back! Isn't that just so precious!" Said my mother with a smile, reaching down to toussle his hair.
My brother is a lot like I was back then. He's sharp as a tack, and constantly happy, even if the situation is bad. He looks like my mom, blond hair, tall for his age, with green eyes and a penchant for fancy clothes. Like our father, however, he was a but too sentimental. And however determinedly happy he usually was, however, on the double insult of being condescended to and having to deal with my mothers departure, he broke down and cried on my dad's shoulder.
That's what did it for me, the sight of my younger brother crying on my father's shoulder, my father sitting with his face in his hand, completely at a loss, and my mother talking to this strange man, just laughing it off! What a cold woman! Who can betray their family like that and turn around and laugh about it! She obviously had no regard for any of us at all. And I simply stood there doing nothing, my insides burning with hate and disgust.
I remembered that my mother was awfully shy when it came to sex. Ah-ha, a chink in her armor!
"Whore." I spat. That was it. The one word that would cut her like a knife. It worked, she was shocked for a moment, and she drew back into the arms of her lover, sniffling. The sting in any rebuke is the truth, I suppose. (Author's Note: That's a Ben Franklin quote, that is.) My work done, I turned away and headed upstairs.
Once I got to my room, I exploded. I lashed out in a blind rage, and broke or struck anything I could get my hands on. I still remember how I felt while I was destroying stuff. It was absolutely awful. I wanted to get my hands on my mother and beat her into the ground! I wanted to grab hold of her and beat until the I was covered in her blood! I wanted to hear her scream and cry and beg for mercy! Then I wanted to grab hold of her neck and shake until I felt her life slowly drain out of her... If I did that, I would be able to make her feel the pain she had caused my father and brother...
I can't remember my thoughts when I was acting like an wild animal, but I knew that, just as I had pulled back my fist to put it through the television, I was thinking about how she had broken their hearts.
Then it hit me, and all the anger flew out of me like air from a balloon, and was replaced with the exultant rush of victory. She had broken their hearts, not mine! In some obscure way, I had triumphed over. I grinned, reveled in these thoughts, and went to bed happy.
For the next few days, I didn't go to school, for I was far too busy comforting my father and brother. And to tell the truth, I really didn't want to return. School was boring. I considered a waste of time to sit in class for more than ten minutes. I think I was the first valedictorian ever to refuse to make a speech.
I think my mother's betrayal was what made me what I am today. A cold, soulless person. No that's not quite right. I want so badly to be soulless. If I was, then maybe this shadow that eats at my heart would go away...
Anyway, after my mother's betrayal, my eyes were opened to just how petty people could be. I had always been a loner, because I didn't understand people. There was something to them that was just... beyond me. Now I saw it. They were all morons. There lives were filled with petty reltationship difficulties and empty social posturing. Slowly, I came to hate them. I never talked to anyone, I sat alone at lunch, I was cold to people. The only people that mattered were Shuji and my father.
When I was seventeen years old... No! I can't think about that! I promised myself long ago that I wouldn't dredge up any memories that painful.
Something white flashes by my eye. I turn around and see Daryl, walking across the bridge, mumbling to himself as usual.
"Hey Daryl." I begin. "How's-"
Daryl cuts me off here. "Nami, I'm busy, so don't bother me."
I nod. Sometimes people just don't want to be disturbed. I'm one of the few people in the valley that understands that.
Daryl, like Cody, is a dreamer. While Cody dreams of the day we can glance to the heavens and duplicate the beauty of the stars, Daryl is more concerned with how the stars shine. Daryl is dedicated to making the world a better place and... Y'know what? If those two got together, they could build something magnificent, as beautiful as it is practical, that would most likely change the world. Wouldn't that be nice?
I look at the sky and decide that it's at least 10:30. I sigh, and head back to the inn. Ruby and Tim have gone to bed, so I pull a large green apple and a bottle of Goat's Milk from the fridge. Having eaten my dinner, I tiptoe up the stairs, careful not to wake anybody, and head for my room. A thought hits me, and I wonder why I bother to wear that nightgown. I collapse onto bed, still wearing my street clothes, and fall deep asleep. Such ends another boring day in this unbroken monotony that is my life. And this was a good day. I hope to hell that something changes soon.
Please R&R folks. Keep in mind that this is my first story, so go easy on me, okay?