I apologize in advance if this is a boring chapter, I'm just establishing
more of a friendship between Tidus and Yuna, while trying to throw in a bit
of heat ;). Bear with me! I'll try to pick things up again soon. And
regarding that particular review from My Fantasy Reality: I do not consider
this to be any of your business, but no, I do not have the same point of
view on the whole 'prep' thing that Tidus does in my story. I don't believe
in labels. It is simply a characteristic of Tidus', one I plan for him to
mature from eventually. Next time, at least have the decency to ASK first
before making snap judgement errors, if you please. Thank you for taking
the time to comment.
------------------------------
YUNA
I stare at him.
"You're kidding, right?"
He holds the camera steadily aimed at me, that knee-weakening smile of his slowly rendering me powerless. "It's okay, Yuna, I know you have it in you. It's easy! Just strike a bunch of poses." Then he flicks the CD player on, and the music fills the room.
"No," I say flatly. He pleads me with his cobalt blue eyes. "We are not doing a project on me, Tidus!"
"Of course not," he says, frowning as if I'd said something completely unheard of. "I plan on taking off my shirt and posing along with you."
Again, all I can do is stare at him incredulously. He must recognize my expression, because he quickly adds,
"Not as in porn! I just think the ladies would like to see me shirtless. And the guys would enjoy seeing you in a tank top and skirt. Come on, what do you say?" he says imploringly.
"No," I say again, crossing my arms. He turns around to put the camera down on his desk and then promptly removes his muscle shirt.
So, here I am on Friday after school, alone in an apartment with an astonishingly good-looking young man without a shirt and a camera in hand. I cannot help but notice that he has a rather interesting tattoo of a black panther between his shoulder blades.
"Tidus, what on Spira are you planning to do? Why should we do a project on the two of us?" I ask, slowly feeling my resolve deteriorating as I stare at the light falling across his chiselled abs.
"Because, it's surprising and nobody else will think to do it," he explains patiently, picking up the camera again. "You and I are the only male-female partners in the class, and we can actually pull this off. Think about it: I am a dirt-poor street gang member, and you are the High Summoner's millionaire daughter. If people see our pictures together, imagine the kind of social barriers we could break down! Don't you see it?"
His eyes are bright with excitement, and I never imagined I would see this passionate artistic side of him. His words do ring a bell of truth, but I am still hesitant.
"But . . . everyone will know that we were in your apartment alone together, and these pictures-"
"Who cares what anyone says? Rumours don't mean anything Yuna, nobody will remember it in a few weeks. I'm talking about something more important. I want to show everyone that labels and class don't exist. As long as people can be friends, it doesn't matter where you come from or how rich you are. Who cares if people think we slept together? As long as we know the truth ourselves, we shouldn't bother worrying about it."
"If my father were to ever hear of this, of me being here alone with you, he would never forgive me. He would make my life miserable and Yevon knows what he would do to you."
"I don't care what Lord Braska thinks, and you shouldn't either. You're not some brainless little kid anymore, Yuna. You're your own person, and if you know this is a good idea, why should he hold you back?"
How can I resist that smile, that expression? How can I dampen that spirit?
"Fine. But . . . I'm trusting you on this one, Tidus. We can't mess this up," I say warningly.
"We won't. I'll make sure it turns out great, I promise," he says earnestly.
"Okay, so . . . how do we get started?"
"Just do as I say and everything will be perfect."
The afternoon passes quickly for me. Trying to concentrate on the good part of the project's intention, I obediently move into different poses according to Tidus' command. I am startled to find that for the first time in my life, and am beginning to feel truly attractive. Not just 'pretty' or 'nice-looking', though I find those compliments flattering, but actually attractive. I feel strange, arranging myself into different positions, and I can't completely shake the impression that I am in the middle of a soft core pornographic photo shoot.
But when I see the pictures after every shot, I am amazed to see how well they turn out, how artistic and insightful they really are. Tidus really does have a photographer's eye. I move from my position on the bed to stand next to the window, my hand and forehead leaning on the glass. Sometime ago, I don't remember when, Tidus convinced me to take off my sweater so that I am only in my tank top and skirt. I was modest before, but now I feel . . . natural. More comfortable than I knew I could be. For some reason I take my time mentioning that he has yet to join me, as he seems to be enjoying his role as the photographer.
Then I sit against the wall, knees drawn up and arms around my legs, looking away from Tidus. For some reason he doesn't like it when I look directly at the lens. He wants my poses to look real and undisturbed. Once he takes a few shots, I stand up and lean against the wall with one leg propped up, my hands behind my back with my head down.
"Okay, I'm going to jump in now," he says, switching the camera back to float mode. He comes and sits next to me on the floor, draping his arm around my shoulder and leaning his head against mine. His skin is warm against me, yet I find myself getting goosebumps and chills down my spine at his touch. His nearness makes my heart pound almost painfully, but I force my face to remain neutral as the camera preserves our image. It is disturbingly comfortable, having our bodies touch in such a way. If I were merely to turn my head ever so slightly to the side, our lips would meet.
What foolish romantic fantasies I have. I truly thought I had outgrown these girlish high school habits. Aren't I supposed to be much more mature than this? And yet I cannot help but imagine how warm his lips would be against mine, how gentle yet firm his arms would be around me.
I am startled out of my quixotic thoughts as Tidus changes his position abruptly. The skin on my arm is suddenly cold without his body near to keep it warm.
Next, Tidus gets me to sit with my back turned to the camera so that I am only facing him. When I do so, he reaches up quickly to arrange my hair so that a few locks fall around my face. He then laces his fingers over his head and leans back against the wall, one leg propped up.
"Camera, take shot," he says. We freeze the position and wait for the tell- tale flash before moving.
"Can I try something?" I ask, since it seems that he is the one in command. He grins at me from his sitting position.
"Sure thing."
"Stand up and turn your back to the camera." He obeys me and stands still. "Camera, zoom in."
The floating sphere camera moves a foot towards us and the lens slides out for a closer look. I put my hand on Tidus' bare back, just beneath the black panther tattoo, and command the camera to take the picture.
When I check the screen for the end result, I am pleased. My skin is so much paler than Tidus' that it is shows up easily, even in black and white film. The ring on my finger caught the light from the window, so there is a bright starburst in the shot. The tattoo on his back looks dark and alluring. I show Tidus, and he grins.
"Looks awesome. Good job," he tells me.
I find myself enjoying this side of him. Normally he is so tough and sure of himself around everyone else, even though he has always been nice to me. Now he is almost boyish with his anticipation to make this project work. The sweet side of him is most endearing.
Again, the hours fly by, and Tidus and I take seventy pictures at least, pausing now and then to get something to eat from the tiny kitchen. I am shocked to look at my watch and see that it is already seven o'clock.
"Oh!" I gasp, grabbing my black sweater and hoping that my Porsche is left untouched. I feel foolish for leaving it there alone for so long, but I had thought to be back at the school before all the teachers left for the day. "I have to get back and drive home!"
"I'll walk you there," Tidus says, putting his shirt back on. I am almost sorry to see his beauty concealed once again. "This part of town isn't safe to walk in alone, especially chicks."
"What about you? What will you do on your way home?"
"I'll be all right. I know this area like the back of my hand," he says reassuringly, pulling his denim coat on.
We head down the cramped hallway together, and I notice with a nervous turn of stomach how dark the sky is getting. I do not feel safe in this part of town at night, even with Tidus beside me.
The streets are almost completely empty except for a woman standing on the street corner, dressed remarkably like Rikku and looking as if she is waiting for someone. In an instant I realize what kind of profession she must belong to, and I keep my face low as we walk past.
"Hey, Wanda," Tidus says casually, waving his hand at the woman. She turns her pinched hazel eyes to him and gives him a gap-filled smile.
"Evening, kiddo. Fancy lending me a hand with business tonight?" she asks, winking playfully. Tidus chuckles and shakes his head.
"Sorry, Wanda, I got stuff to do," he says, not at all sounding contrite. She waves him off and goes back to her waiting.
Tidus sees me staring at him questioningly.
"She's an old friend of my dad's, but . . . she's kinda had a thing for me for a while," he explains, running his fingers through his hair awkwardly.
"But she's so old!" I whisper, in case we are still in hearing range. She looked to be in her late forties or early fifties at least.
"Yeah, and a total crackwhore. I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole," he says, shuddering. I shake my head at him, wondering at the kind of life this boy leads.
"Look, Yuna . . ." he says slowly, after a moment of silence. "Um . . . thanks."
"For what?"
"You know, for . . . going along with my idea for the project. I know you weren't all that excited about it."
"I trust you," I say with a smile, nudging him slightly with my elbow. "I was worried at first, but now I know it will all work out."
"Really?" he asks, looking pleased. I nod and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. We are now completely alone in the streets, but I can hear traffic a few blocks over. "Good. And . . ."
"What?"
". . . I also wanted to thank you for sticking by the gang when Seymour was hassling Rikku. Not a lot of people would do that for us."
He looks so embarrassed and uncomfortable that I cannot help but giggle at him.
"It's not funny!" he protests, trying to conceal a grin. "I'm being serious here."
"I know, but you seem so very unused to thanking people," I say teasingly. He just shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Haven't really had a whole lot of people to thank," he says apathetically.
"How strange . . ."
"What's strange?"
"You say you haven't had a whole lot of people to thank in your life, but it feels like all I've been doing throughout mine is doing just that. Thanking people, that is."
He stares at me with a puzzled frown, not fully comprehending.
"I mean, I have to thank people for everything. When someone takes a picture of me in the street, I have to thank them for the attention. If someone interviews me, I thank them at the end for sticking their noses into my business. If someone tells me how lucky I am to be my father's daughter, I thank them for caring, even though what my father did has nothing to do with me. And when people tell me how sorry they am about my mother's death, I thank them for reminding me how much I need her in my life, and how it's my fault she died."
I did not expect to say so much so quickly, but somehow it pours out faster than I can control. I keep my face ahead, but I feel Tidus' eyes on me.
"How did she die?" he asks me softly. I have never heard his voice sound like that. I turn and look at him for a moment before replying.
"Giving birth to me. She lost too much blood."
He is silent for a long time.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Me too," I reply, sighing through my nostrils. "I only wish my father knew how sorry I am for it."
"He blames you?"
"Well, not to my face, but . . . I know he does. I know because he hates to look at me full in the eye, but in the rare moments when he does, I can . . . I can see the bitterness. I can see the longing for her that nobody will ever be able to satisfy."
I feel tears gathering, but I furiously blink them away. I will not cry in front of Tidus. Crying is weak, and I cannot show such weakness before him. He touches my arm lightly, signalling me to look at him. I lift my face and stare up at him next to me, trying hard to clear my blurry eyes.
"He shouldn't blame you for something that isn't your fault. He'll get over it someday and see the truth," he says gently. I smile shakily at him as my tears recede.
When we reach the school parking lot, I am relieved to see that my Porsche is still there, untouched. A few other cars are still parked nearby, no doubt belonging to teachers staying late.
"Thanks for walking me," I say to Tidus.
"No problem. Nice to have something to do."
"Do you want me to give you a ride back?" I ask, concerned about him walking alone.
"Don't worry about me, I know a few shortcuts. I'll be back home in no time," he says confidently. "Besides, that Porsche of yours isn't safe in my end of town. You'll get carjacked right away."
We smile at each other, and then I unlock the car and slip inside. I wave at him through the window as I start the engine, and he backs up to watch me go.
Our evening together plays through my head as I pass through traffic lights. My face burns with the memory of his warmth against me, the smell of him in my nostrils. I remember how natural it felt, how comfortable it was to have him so near me. Even though I trust him with our project, I am still uncertain how it will turn out, and I am worried about the class' reaction, and Professor Faradi's. Will they all ignore the purpose behind the subject, or will they understand? The last thing I need at my new school is a load of rumours, especially on top of what I found written on my locker. Hopefully a janitor passed by and cleaned it off.
My thoughts turn even more anxious as I draw closer to home. I wonder if my father will accept the lie of my whereabouts, or if he will see that I am being dishonest. I do not like to hide my time with Tidus as if it was some big shameful secret, but I know my father too well. He will never see past it if he knew the truth. He would never let it go. I do not want his anger directed at Tidus, someone who deserves it the least.
When I arrive at the house and walk through the front doors, I am relieved to find that it appears empty. My father must still be retiring in his room, and has most likely not heard or cared about my absence. Belgemine is most likely in the town visiting her mother, and Auron does not seem to be around either.
I creep up to my room and close the door quietly. I look at my clock and see that it is now seven forty five.
Later, when I crawl into bed, it occurs to me with a start that Tidus is the only person I've ever spoken to about my mother. I sit up quickly and open the drawer by my bed, and pull out a small picture frame.
My mother was truly beautiful. Though I look a lot like her, I could never hope to possess the same grace and elegance she had. She stares at me with a placid smile from the photograph in the frame, holding a bouquet of flowers in her delicate hands. I think the picture was taken on her wedding day, for she is wearing a lovely white gown and a pearl necklace. Her brown hair is tied back in a sophisticated bun.
"Mother," I whisper, holding the picture to my chest. "I've never heard your voice or felt your touch, but I miss you so much. It is so hard without you, but . . . I think I may have found someone who understands my pain."
I fall asleep with visions of blue eyes dancing in my dreams, but my sleep is troubled by something. Something I cannot name . . .
------------------------------
YUNA
I stare at him.
"You're kidding, right?"
He holds the camera steadily aimed at me, that knee-weakening smile of his slowly rendering me powerless. "It's okay, Yuna, I know you have it in you. It's easy! Just strike a bunch of poses." Then he flicks the CD player on, and the music fills the room.
"No," I say flatly. He pleads me with his cobalt blue eyes. "We are not doing a project on me, Tidus!"
"Of course not," he says, frowning as if I'd said something completely unheard of. "I plan on taking off my shirt and posing along with you."
Again, all I can do is stare at him incredulously. He must recognize my expression, because he quickly adds,
"Not as in porn! I just think the ladies would like to see me shirtless. And the guys would enjoy seeing you in a tank top and skirt. Come on, what do you say?" he says imploringly.
"No," I say again, crossing my arms. He turns around to put the camera down on his desk and then promptly removes his muscle shirt.
So, here I am on Friday after school, alone in an apartment with an astonishingly good-looking young man without a shirt and a camera in hand. I cannot help but notice that he has a rather interesting tattoo of a black panther between his shoulder blades.
"Tidus, what on Spira are you planning to do? Why should we do a project on the two of us?" I ask, slowly feeling my resolve deteriorating as I stare at the light falling across his chiselled abs.
"Because, it's surprising and nobody else will think to do it," he explains patiently, picking up the camera again. "You and I are the only male-female partners in the class, and we can actually pull this off. Think about it: I am a dirt-poor street gang member, and you are the High Summoner's millionaire daughter. If people see our pictures together, imagine the kind of social barriers we could break down! Don't you see it?"
His eyes are bright with excitement, and I never imagined I would see this passionate artistic side of him. His words do ring a bell of truth, but I am still hesitant.
"But . . . everyone will know that we were in your apartment alone together, and these pictures-"
"Who cares what anyone says? Rumours don't mean anything Yuna, nobody will remember it in a few weeks. I'm talking about something more important. I want to show everyone that labels and class don't exist. As long as people can be friends, it doesn't matter where you come from or how rich you are. Who cares if people think we slept together? As long as we know the truth ourselves, we shouldn't bother worrying about it."
"If my father were to ever hear of this, of me being here alone with you, he would never forgive me. He would make my life miserable and Yevon knows what he would do to you."
"I don't care what Lord Braska thinks, and you shouldn't either. You're not some brainless little kid anymore, Yuna. You're your own person, and if you know this is a good idea, why should he hold you back?"
How can I resist that smile, that expression? How can I dampen that spirit?
"Fine. But . . . I'm trusting you on this one, Tidus. We can't mess this up," I say warningly.
"We won't. I'll make sure it turns out great, I promise," he says earnestly.
"Okay, so . . . how do we get started?"
"Just do as I say and everything will be perfect."
The afternoon passes quickly for me. Trying to concentrate on the good part of the project's intention, I obediently move into different poses according to Tidus' command. I am startled to find that for the first time in my life, and am beginning to feel truly attractive. Not just 'pretty' or 'nice-looking', though I find those compliments flattering, but actually attractive. I feel strange, arranging myself into different positions, and I can't completely shake the impression that I am in the middle of a soft core pornographic photo shoot.
But when I see the pictures after every shot, I am amazed to see how well they turn out, how artistic and insightful they really are. Tidus really does have a photographer's eye. I move from my position on the bed to stand next to the window, my hand and forehead leaning on the glass. Sometime ago, I don't remember when, Tidus convinced me to take off my sweater so that I am only in my tank top and skirt. I was modest before, but now I feel . . . natural. More comfortable than I knew I could be. For some reason I take my time mentioning that he has yet to join me, as he seems to be enjoying his role as the photographer.
Then I sit against the wall, knees drawn up and arms around my legs, looking away from Tidus. For some reason he doesn't like it when I look directly at the lens. He wants my poses to look real and undisturbed. Once he takes a few shots, I stand up and lean against the wall with one leg propped up, my hands behind my back with my head down.
"Okay, I'm going to jump in now," he says, switching the camera back to float mode. He comes and sits next to me on the floor, draping his arm around my shoulder and leaning his head against mine. His skin is warm against me, yet I find myself getting goosebumps and chills down my spine at his touch. His nearness makes my heart pound almost painfully, but I force my face to remain neutral as the camera preserves our image. It is disturbingly comfortable, having our bodies touch in such a way. If I were merely to turn my head ever so slightly to the side, our lips would meet.
What foolish romantic fantasies I have. I truly thought I had outgrown these girlish high school habits. Aren't I supposed to be much more mature than this? And yet I cannot help but imagine how warm his lips would be against mine, how gentle yet firm his arms would be around me.
I am startled out of my quixotic thoughts as Tidus changes his position abruptly. The skin on my arm is suddenly cold without his body near to keep it warm.
Next, Tidus gets me to sit with my back turned to the camera so that I am only facing him. When I do so, he reaches up quickly to arrange my hair so that a few locks fall around my face. He then laces his fingers over his head and leans back against the wall, one leg propped up.
"Camera, take shot," he says. We freeze the position and wait for the tell- tale flash before moving.
"Can I try something?" I ask, since it seems that he is the one in command. He grins at me from his sitting position.
"Sure thing."
"Stand up and turn your back to the camera." He obeys me and stands still. "Camera, zoom in."
The floating sphere camera moves a foot towards us and the lens slides out for a closer look. I put my hand on Tidus' bare back, just beneath the black panther tattoo, and command the camera to take the picture.
When I check the screen for the end result, I am pleased. My skin is so much paler than Tidus' that it is shows up easily, even in black and white film. The ring on my finger caught the light from the window, so there is a bright starburst in the shot. The tattoo on his back looks dark and alluring. I show Tidus, and he grins.
"Looks awesome. Good job," he tells me.
I find myself enjoying this side of him. Normally he is so tough and sure of himself around everyone else, even though he has always been nice to me. Now he is almost boyish with his anticipation to make this project work. The sweet side of him is most endearing.
Again, the hours fly by, and Tidus and I take seventy pictures at least, pausing now and then to get something to eat from the tiny kitchen. I am shocked to look at my watch and see that it is already seven o'clock.
"Oh!" I gasp, grabbing my black sweater and hoping that my Porsche is left untouched. I feel foolish for leaving it there alone for so long, but I had thought to be back at the school before all the teachers left for the day. "I have to get back and drive home!"
"I'll walk you there," Tidus says, putting his shirt back on. I am almost sorry to see his beauty concealed once again. "This part of town isn't safe to walk in alone, especially chicks."
"What about you? What will you do on your way home?"
"I'll be all right. I know this area like the back of my hand," he says reassuringly, pulling his denim coat on.
We head down the cramped hallway together, and I notice with a nervous turn of stomach how dark the sky is getting. I do not feel safe in this part of town at night, even with Tidus beside me.
The streets are almost completely empty except for a woman standing on the street corner, dressed remarkably like Rikku and looking as if she is waiting for someone. In an instant I realize what kind of profession she must belong to, and I keep my face low as we walk past.
"Hey, Wanda," Tidus says casually, waving his hand at the woman. She turns her pinched hazel eyes to him and gives him a gap-filled smile.
"Evening, kiddo. Fancy lending me a hand with business tonight?" she asks, winking playfully. Tidus chuckles and shakes his head.
"Sorry, Wanda, I got stuff to do," he says, not at all sounding contrite. She waves him off and goes back to her waiting.
Tidus sees me staring at him questioningly.
"She's an old friend of my dad's, but . . . she's kinda had a thing for me for a while," he explains, running his fingers through his hair awkwardly.
"But she's so old!" I whisper, in case we are still in hearing range. She looked to be in her late forties or early fifties at least.
"Yeah, and a total crackwhore. I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole," he says, shuddering. I shake my head at him, wondering at the kind of life this boy leads.
"Look, Yuna . . ." he says slowly, after a moment of silence. "Um . . . thanks."
"For what?"
"You know, for . . . going along with my idea for the project. I know you weren't all that excited about it."
"I trust you," I say with a smile, nudging him slightly with my elbow. "I was worried at first, but now I know it will all work out."
"Really?" he asks, looking pleased. I nod and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. We are now completely alone in the streets, but I can hear traffic a few blocks over. "Good. And . . ."
"What?"
". . . I also wanted to thank you for sticking by the gang when Seymour was hassling Rikku. Not a lot of people would do that for us."
He looks so embarrassed and uncomfortable that I cannot help but giggle at him.
"It's not funny!" he protests, trying to conceal a grin. "I'm being serious here."
"I know, but you seem so very unused to thanking people," I say teasingly. He just shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Haven't really had a whole lot of people to thank," he says apathetically.
"How strange . . ."
"What's strange?"
"You say you haven't had a whole lot of people to thank in your life, but it feels like all I've been doing throughout mine is doing just that. Thanking people, that is."
He stares at me with a puzzled frown, not fully comprehending.
"I mean, I have to thank people for everything. When someone takes a picture of me in the street, I have to thank them for the attention. If someone interviews me, I thank them at the end for sticking their noses into my business. If someone tells me how lucky I am to be my father's daughter, I thank them for caring, even though what my father did has nothing to do with me. And when people tell me how sorry they am about my mother's death, I thank them for reminding me how much I need her in my life, and how it's my fault she died."
I did not expect to say so much so quickly, but somehow it pours out faster than I can control. I keep my face ahead, but I feel Tidus' eyes on me.
"How did she die?" he asks me softly. I have never heard his voice sound like that. I turn and look at him for a moment before replying.
"Giving birth to me. She lost too much blood."
He is silent for a long time.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Me too," I reply, sighing through my nostrils. "I only wish my father knew how sorry I am for it."
"He blames you?"
"Well, not to my face, but . . . I know he does. I know because he hates to look at me full in the eye, but in the rare moments when he does, I can . . . I can see the bitterness. I can see the longing for her that nobody will ever be able to satisfy."
I feel tears gathering, but I furiously blink them away. I will not cry in front of Tidus. Crying is weak, and I cannot show such weakness before him. He touches my arm lightly, signalling me to look at him. I lift my face and stare up at him next to me, trying hard to clear my blurry eyes.
"He shouldn't blame you for something that isn't your fault. He'll get over it someday and see the truth," he says gently. I smile shakily at him as my tears recede.
When we reach the school parking lot, I am relieved to see that my Porsche is still there, untouched. A few other cars are still parked nearby, no doubt belonging to teachers staying late.
"Thanks for walking me," I say to Tidus.
"No problem. Nice to have something to do."
"Do you want me to give you a ride back?" I ask, concerned about him walking alone.
"Don't worry about me, I know a few shortcuts. I'll be back home in no time," he says confidently. "Besides, that Porsche of yours isn't safe in my end of town. You'll get carjacked right away."
We smile at each other, and then I unlock the car and slip inside. I wave at him through the window as I start the engine, and he backs up to watch me go.
Our evening together plays through my head as I pass through traffic lights. My face burns with the memory of his warmth against me, the smell of him in my nostrils. I remember how natural it felt, how comfortable it was to have him so near me. Even though I trust him with our project, I am still uncertain how it will turn out, and I am worried about the class' reaction, and Professor Faradi's. Will they all ignore the purpose behind the subject, or will they understand? The last thing I need at my new school is a load of rumours, especially on top of what I found written on my locker. Hopefully a janitor passed by and cleaned it off.
My thoughts turn even more anxious as I draw closer to home. I wonder if my father will accept the lie of my whereabouts, or if he will see that I am being dishonest. I do not like to hide my time with Tidus as if it was some big shameful secret, but I know my father too well. He will never see past it if he knew the truth. He would never let it go. I do not want his anger directed at Tidus, someone who deserves it the least.
When I arrive at the house and walk through the front doors, I am relieved to find that it appears empty. My father must still be retiring in his room, and has most likely not heard or cared about my absence. Belgemine is most likely in the town visiting her mother, and Auron does not seem to be around either.
I creep up to my room and close the door quietly. I look at my clock and see that it is now seven forty five.
Later, when I crawl into bed, it occurs to me with a start that Tidus is the only person I've ever spoken to about my mother. I sit up quickly and open the drawer by my bed, and pull out a small picture frame.
My mother was truly beautiful. Though I look a lot like her, I could never hope to possess the same grace and elegance she had. She stares at me with a placid smile from the photograph in the frame, holding a bouquet of flowers in her delicate hands. I think the picture was taken on her wedding day, for she is wearing a lovely white gown and a pearl necklace. Her brown hair is tied back in a sophisticated bun.
"Mother," I whisper, holding the picture to my chest. "I've never heard your voice or felt your touch, but I miss you so much. It is so hard without you, but . . . I think I may have found someone who understands my pain."
I fall asleep with visions of blue eyes dancing in my dreams, but my sleep is troubled by something. Something I cannot name . . .