AN: Yes, I am aware how corney this is getting, and I'm not afraid to admit it. It's a learning experience. Everyone should try something that totally bombs. You other aspiring writers can learn from this too :-P

June 23, 2006

Friend and Confidante,

We've FINALLY set the date for the Hamlet performance! Two weeks from today. We all know it inside and out by now. I'm very nervous.

How strange it is. At the start of our work on the play, the love scenes meant nothing to me… but now they are so lovely. "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." How breathtakingly gorgeous!

I've finally begun to understand the love poems, the love songs… ah, and tragedy is the best! Bringing out the best of the characters through the worst of situations.

Maximillion and I like to discuss the CDs—mother still does not know we listen to that mainstream music! This is why I was thinking of it: I listened to the Evanescence CD the other day, which he gave me so long ago: the newer and the older. There are so many beautiful lyrics, and my favorites are tragic. "Some say I'm crazy for my love, oh, my love; yet no bonds can hold me from your side, oh, my love; they don't know you can't leave me, they don't hear you singing to me!" "Say goodnight, don't be afraid, calling me, calling me, as you fade to black…" I can just see the girl clutching the tearful lover's shirt… Like in the Matrix. He he, me and Maximillion's guilty secret, the action movies. That scene just caught me, ah, ah, how beautiful love is.

Silently the angel sleeps

Quietly the lover weeps

Under weeping willow tree

Under gaze of lazy bee

Red that specks the whitest wing

No longer will the angel sing

How's that? I think my poetry is getting better! But the bee detracts from the mood, I think. What else rhymes with 'tree'?

June 30 2006

Friend and Confidante,

Maximillion found out that I was so nervous and sent me the sweetest note. I'm going to paste it here to read when I'm old, hehe:

All nights resolve into day

So worry not, Cecilia,

For none are better suited to play

The graceful, fair, Ophelia

July 7 2006

I can hardly write, let alone breathe, today... today... today!

Our dress rehersal for the Hamlet performance next week! It was a lovely day, so before rehersal Maximillion and I went for a walk along the stream. I confessed how nervous I was and I joked that he would have to learn to kiss me on the lips if we were to pull of that scene. He blushed and laughed... nervously? (How many times have I seen that blush and not understood... or?) I must have shuddered, because he implied that if Tony ever got on my nerves that he'd confront him for me. I told him what happened that day. He looked so shocked, and angry, and let me cry on his shoulder.

Then Marsy saw us in the hallway and said something snappy and Sara laughed and told me in a whisper to disregard it, she's just jealous. Of what? I asked. Of Maximillion's attention to me. Apparently Mary favors him. Maximillion's attention...

At rehersal... the scene... he still kissed my hand, but... in his eyes there was something more... am I imagining it?

July 8 2006

Friend and Confidante,

The play went so well. We all went out for dinner afterwards. I haven't had time to be alone with Maximillion, so I don't know what's becoming of that.

Tony offered to escort me home, and I decided to give him a second chance to be nice. He said he was sorry for the other night. Ah, boys and hormones. Can I trust him?

July 9 2006

Friend and Consolation,

Maximillion was talking with Mary today. They were laughing over something. She saw me watching and told me to buzz off. Maximillion didn't look at me. I guess he doesn't like me, after all. I feel a little... sad.

January 5 2007

Doctors came today, and I don't think there's one test they didn't do on me. Mother sat me down and explained that they're afraid that someone else may have what Aunt Clara had. It's hereditary, apparently. Of course, that means that I might be a carrier as well. Could I never have children?

February 6 2007

No time—must think—ink blurring in this cold, blinding, accursed rain—I ran from the house—father—mother—oh, oh, will she be okay? What should I do? Blood—fists—shouting—the sick smell of alcohol… I know. Carlisle doesn't mind bad water—ride him to the Pegasus house.

February 6

What a night!

I am sitting, waiting. Mrs. Pegasus ran out to fetch the doctor and my father went along.

I came and knocked on the door. Immediately Maximillion opened it, pulled me inside, wrapped a blanket around me. (told me later that he had a feeling I was in trouble—strange) Mrs. Pegasus brought a glass of good wine before she left and told me it was good for a broken heart. I collapsed into humiliating hysteria, just broke down sobbing. Maximillion wrapped his arms around me, and we stayed like that for what must have been a very long time… and I realized… how wonderful it was to cry on his shoulder—a true friend. A true friend—and—wait, let me stay in order. It was so wonderful, feeling his warmth on my cold skin, his fingers comfortingly stroking my back, my fingers tangled in his silver hair… I started babbling about how couldn't father love me—what had I done wrong?

How devious I am, baiting him like that! I didn't do it consciously, though, I don't think. But I never expected—wait.

Of course, he said my father would be a fool not to love me. I stopped crying. After a pause he said "A man could only dream that such an angel as you would love him in return."

I look up, and he was blushing furiously, anxious as to what I'd say I guess, which surprised me. Of course I told him that I thought he was with Mary, and it was his turn to be surprised.

Then it hit me again, that image of mother, bleeding, on the floor under father;s heavy fists---and I cried again. Cried and cried and cried that I wished I could erase the memories from my mind…

So…

He did.

His gentle, artists' fingers on one cheek… his others at the small of my back… his face meeting mine…

And time stopped and the blood became roses and the heat of father's fury refining fires.

Diary, Mrs. Pegasus just entered the room. She says mother is fine. She smiled at me, my head in the crook of her son's arm. I think everything…

...will be all right…