!!!!!!!!! I love you guys! This isn't a particularly good chapter, but I've tried a couple of times and I couldn't get better than this. D:
Chapter three: A taste of nostalgia
-
Y'know, I only really had time to relax in that sacred hour, before I went to sleep, after the bar shut. I sat with Papa on the squishy soft sofa and watched the television. Yes, television. All right, I'll admit it, I liked television. Him and me had our own sides. His was neat and not particularly personalised, with his newspapers tucked neatly behind that chocolate velvet cushion that complimented the soft caramel of the sofa.
Mine, on the other hand, had a whole lot of cushions, to which he agreed with, as long as they matched the sofa. So I got a whole lot of soft velvet cushions in shades of cream, caramel, toffee, etc. I generally squashed them into corner, that way it's more comfy. I neatly folded my blanket over the edge, and curled up with it while we watched our programmes.
We compromised. It's only an hour we had to watch it, so I got half an hour, he got half an hour. We were so gosh darn clever! Ha. Kidding. He liked to watch really cheesy comedies from like a hundred years ago, and sports. I liked to play sports. I hated to watch them. Now, I liked cartoons, and reality television! They were my guilty pleasure, like popcorn. And he hated both of them too. We agreed to disagree.
Sometimes, even if it was his turn for programmes, he'd slouch and not look at the screen, and let me switch channels. He's stare over the top of the television, at the photo frame of my mother, sitting on the television, laughing. I wondered if he ever missed her. He never talked about her. I remember Karen looking at it, and told me that she was pretty enough to be one of her beloved fairies. Then she thought about it and declared that my mother was now a fairy, and came alive at night and kissed me on each cheek. Y'know, I never minded when people talked about her.
Sometimes I'd watch programmes about people who ate junk food every day twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I thought how horrible that'd be. Imagine, eating the same food for the rest of your life! And those programmes were enough to get you clutching your mineral water and salad. Papa's food was so good, and so healthy. We used local produce. Papa liked to remind customers this a lot.
Me, Karen and Rick used to watch old Disney movies, old cartoons and old music videos. Everything nostalgic. Nostalgia's a large part of my life, I guess. It was probably because the minute I was nine, my father and I decided that I'd be a waitress. But he always gave me the rest of the day off.
Then when I was fourteen, I started working really long hours. I stopped seeing my friends anymore. And it wasn't just me.
Well. We were all busy. Rick's mother got diagnosed with a horrible disease a year prior; I remember the day when I had the rest of the day off, and I went to meet them, as usual. I wandered into the soft grassy area, and saw Rick; tears running down his freckled little face like the waterfall nearby. He stopped coming as often, because he was so worried about his mother. I felt so bad for him, and I felt like I should help too, since my mother had died of a similar disease. But I couldn't, and it just made him feel worse that my mother had died. The year I started working full time, Rick did too. And Karen, she had it pretty easy compared to all of us. No, that's mean. I know she got really lonely without us. But I had no idea she'd resort to drinking.
Rick had been a really happy guy before, even if he was a little sappy. Now my two friends had completely changed. I was looking at a sad, hopeless guy, and a girl who had sworn the taste of wine made her feel sick, drinking. I was looking at red, swollen, tear stained eyes behind misty glasses, which had once been bright, shiny eyes that had perfect vision, and dark shadowed tired eyes that had once been a pair of fresh dewy greens.
My peacock blue eyes felt like crying.
Where'd my friends go?
So we stopped seeing each other quite so much. I saw less of those dark shady forests and more of those shiny mahogany tables. I couldn't help but daydream about them coming into the inn, to order something. I'd think about them a lot, whether I was wiping the tables off with a swooping hand, or scribbling down an order. I guess it marked the end of my childhood.
I'd remember Rick's humiliation when he got his glasses, his weak little arms, his silly comic books. I remember fondly teasing him for all of these things, but even though I said I didn't like him that much, I liked him for his faults.
I'd remember thinking how silly Karen was for all her fancy fairy – witch – goddess – sprites stories.
I wish they were real now.
-
Ha. It's going to get better, I promise, it's just I didn't really have a chance to use description, dialogue, etc. I will in the next chapter though. :)