10/10/2017- 3352

Chapter 4

Strawberry Swing

May 20, 2001

(6 years ago)

One thing about this guy is he did not like talking. This was going to be a long day.

"Do you have parents?"

He swallowed down the strawberries I brought, ignoring my question.

"Hmmm… are you listening?" his eyes darted to me, and then focused back on the fruit I brought.

I know he heard me, and he was not getting away so easily this time. These past months he would treat me as… well… as a lunch-lady. He would come, take his food, and leave without a thank you. Gratitude went a long way especially when a certain someone was slicing, preparing, and packaging fruit at eight in the morning, and then having to sneak it past her Mentor. Not to mention that the said fruit was mostly eaten by him. Yes, gratitude went a long ways indeed.

One thing about me is I am not in any way a lunch-lady; my hair would look atrocious in those fish-net hat things, and I did not have big enough hips to pretend that I had birthed a few babies, luch-ladies always had those. The more important reason was no one ever ignored me, and got away with it.

I smacked my lips, "I asked you a question?"

I could tell he was enjoying it. He ate fast enough, and plenty of it to suggest so. I would have to resort to other means it would seem.

I grunted at him, and spoke in cave man, "Do-You" I pointed him, "Have-Parents?" I made two fingers at him, which could have meant anything, but it got the point across. I could have been telling him if he wanted two punches in the face, and maybe then he would listen properly. No, maybe he would sit there, and take them with silent grace.

I laughed at that thought.

He found none of this amusing.

"It is extraordinary," he swallowed, "how annoying you can be."

I took back the food, "It's extraordinary how annoying you can be," I mimicked him.

He tried to swipe them back but I put them far over my head, "You don't get to have any until you answer my questions."

"Why would I do that?" He probed a piece of the pineapple, tasted it, but discarded it into the grass field finding lacking. I noted not to bring that for next time.

He flicked another piece interested in watching it soar, "I have no reason to reveal to you anything I do not have to. I am even more apprehensive because you are so insistent on getting something out of me."

"I am just curious.

"So it would seem."

He did not trust me at all my anger flared, "Really I am!"

He did not look convinced, "Just to make things perfectly clear, we are just fruit buddies," he picked another piece of pineapple, "nothing more." The place where he was discarding the fruit was looking more like a fruit graveyard, than blades of wild grass. It had pineapple, mango, and watermelon which I was surprised since that was the best fruit I had ever tasted, and perhaps the most expensive to buy. There went my week's saving. What a waste! I was not going to be bringing fruit if he was just going to throw everything that did not suit his tastes.

"So, I am your fruit buddy?" Buddy basically meant friend.

"It was not mean to be a compliment," when did he ever give a compliment?

I ate a strawberry to occupy my mind. It gushed against my tongue the tangy seeded juice tamed my worries. It was amazing how the simple things tended to be the best in life. Jonathan seemed to think so with the way he was eyeing the container of berries in my lap.

The strawberries were still the victor of his preference, and they seemed to be taunting him with the way he was gawking at them.

"You are so picky," I flicked another pineapple at his shirt trying to rise something out of him; "well at least the birds are going to eat good today."

"I suppose," he said nonchalantly.

He leaned back, but I could already tell what he wanted. It was getting easier to understand his body language. He stretched his arms over his head, and then lunged, but he didn't succeed. I tsked him, "Not so fast there. I am your guest, and as a guest you have to have the courtesy to respect me, or I will not give you any strawberries."

"Fine," he shrugged, "a question for a strawberry?"

"Agreed," I lifted my hand to him.

"What?"

"You shake it," I placed it closer to his face; "it makes things official."

"Okay," what was he an alien from Mars? Everyone knew what a handshake was.

He took my hand in his, and then pulled me towards him ripping the bag of strawberries out of my hand. Some spilled out as we both rolled in the grass, but as always I was victorious.

"Who's Yo Mama?!" I took the scrumptious fruit popping one in my mouth for good measure.

His face got red, "Give me a strawberry!"

"No," I popped another in my mouth, "you didn't say please."

"Please," he whispered.

"What was that? I didn't catch that?"

"I'm not going to beg," he crossed his arms looking adorable, but I would never tell him that.

"Begging sounds really good about now," he grimaced.

His hands clenched, "It would ever be most kind if you could give me a strawberry please," he made the gimmie-gimmie hand, and I was torn between throwing the strawberries at his sarcastic face, or leaving him to his own strawberry-less state.

Though I was not him, "Only if you keep your promise, and no going back on your word."

"I am tired of you pestering me, this better be fast," he stuck his hand out, "Deal, Chatterbox?"

I took the chance, and was surprised when he didn't pull me down and overpower me like before.

"Alright Lover Boy, first question, what is your name?"

"Jon," I withheld the strawberry, "Jon… what?"

"I answered your question," he swiped the strawberry, and I gasped.

"You aren't playing fair, your whole name, at least give me a middle one."

"Why?"

"You know my name," I accused him, "even though you never use it."

"Chatterbox suits you."

"Why can't I know your name? Is it as bad as I thought it was? It's probably is, your name would probably be Hagar, Fargis, Fitzherbert, or better yet Leopold."

"Leopold?" When he said it like that, I felt stupid.

"Well maybe not the last, I had a cat named Leopold. Father ate it, and I had nightmares for weeks," he didn't believe me, but most didn't.

"What's the problem?" I saw his face, "Awww, L.B. are you afraid I am going to tell someone?"

His silence was answer enough. I groaned, "You saved my life need I remind you, and it has been what, eleven months, no I think a whole year. If I would have told someone I would have by now. Besides it's not like anyone would believe me." That was just pitiful to think about. His face became contemplative, and I milked it, "it's not like I have many people to talk to."

"Why is it so easy to believe you," he studied my face.

I gave him my most innocent smile, "You are in love with my body," I did a shimmy, and he frowned at my behavior.

"You are repugnant when you act that way."

"Repugnant?" Why did he sound like an old man, "You sound like an old man."

"You sound like a little baby," he shot back.

"I only do it because it bothers you," I teased pretending to cry like a baby.

"It does not make it any easier," he shifted father away from me.

"Why do you do that?"

"What?" He was trying to ignore me again.

"This," I pretended to act like him by scooting away, and looking at the ground in deep thought. This resulted in him looking even more confused.

He didn't get it, "You try to go off into your own world? If you don't want me to come then just say so," he didn't say anything, "At least then I will know what you are thinking. How do you think it feels to sit here, and get you to talk, and then you run off after eating all my snacks? I am sick and tired of this, and you know what is even sadder," he stared harder into the soiled ground, "the rocks you stare at give off more emotion."

He lifted his head, and his eyes were piercing, "The Rocks share my sentiment."

Was he joking? "You think you are so funny, don't you," I started to pack up my things, because I did not find this amusing at all. This would be the first time that I was leaving before he was, and I ignored my conscience telling me to sit back down and try harder.

"Where are you going?" His voice sounded panicked, but I could have been making that up. I tended to make up emotions for him, instead of him actually showing them. Our time together was getting pitiful if I was making things up just to make it interesting.

"Home."

"Why?"

"Isn't obvious, I am just bothering you, and you do not even talk to me."

"You're the one that wants to talk all the time," he frowned watching me bag up the fruit, cleaning the plucked grass from my shirt, and wiping my butt from the moist dirt ground.

"It's what people do, Lover Boy, they talk to each other. In some countries it is rude to ignore people," as if he cared.

"If I talk will you stay," I grabbed the last of my things, "will you stay?" He made no move to help me retrieve it. He was going to throw a fit, and I smiled because I did not think it was possible for him to even know what that was.

"No," I breathed, "you are only saying that because I am leaving."

I got up with all my things, bending down to get the strawberries that were in his lap.

"Please," he held tightly to the strawberries I was tugging at, "please stay, Sera."

Oh mighty Raziel, he said it.

Sure he was desperate, but he still said it. He said my name.

"This once," the words tumbled off my tongue, and I had no choice but to sit down not moving to unpack anything just yet.

It was awkward now, and neither of us made a move to start the conversation. I guess it was up to me. Where were we? "Just tell me, your name. I think I have the right to know, unless your name is Leopold? If it is then these little meetings are going to have to stop right now."

"It's not Leopold!" he shouted. He noticed that he yelled and he repeated it quietly once more.

"Okay okay it's not. Well, what is it," I plucked another strawberry watching him debate with himself.

"It is Christopher," he said softly, "Jonathan Christopher." Jonathan, I put the name with the solemn face of my fruit buddy. The name went with the way he did every move with purpose. The thoughtful gaze he made without even trying and the fact that he was the reigning champion for brooding in silence.

Yet, out of the blue he would say things that just blew me away, and I couldn't help but like him. It was very rare that people would surprise me; it was mostly me surprising everyone else.

Yes, he was very much like the first Jonathan Shadowhunter, probably who he was named after.

"Jonathon Christopher," the name struck a shiver in me, and I wanted to repeat it over and over, because a name never suited anyone the way it did him, "the name suits you."

He looked at odds with himself, and he rubbed his shoulders, "I shouldn't be talking to you."

My heart tightened, but I knew I could convince him, "You shouldn't but that's what makes it so much fun. Okay question two, what is your favorite color?"

At least this was an easier topic, "What type of question is that?"

"The next question, so answer it."

"Red," he said, grabbing a strawberry.

"Why?"

"It just is," He flicked another piece of pineapple, "What is yours?"

"Black," I began examining my cuticles focusing on not showing my blush. It was not black a year ago, and I knew what had changed it.

"Why?" He echoed my question.

"It just is," I chuckled, "so favorite time of the year?"

"These questions are horrible," I waved his disappointment with the strawberry, "June," he said quickly, "I guess they are all good."

I had no problem with the answer for me, "I love Christmas time, presents, fireplaces with hot cocoa, and making ginger-bread houses," I thought aloud, "my favorite part is picking out a tree, my father cheats with magic," I said and he frowns at the mention of it, "but my Uncle and Aunt come over so it's not so bad, we do lot's of tricks. Family is awesome. Where do you go for Christmas?"

"Home, we don't do anything," was his reply.

"What about for your birthday," that had been bugging me, when was his birthday, maybe he would invite me over for his party.

"It's the same every day, I don't see why one day has to be special," he justified, "everyone is getting older. Everyone is going to die. That's how we should live, don't waste it on parties and-," he searched for the word, "fun."

"Wow, you are depressing," I say, as kindly as I can, "you need to sort out your priorities old man. Okay," I pushed the hair out of my face, the wind was traveling quickly through the trees, "how many siblings do you have? Are you an only child?"

"No," he took the strawberry, "it's my turn now," oh so he wanted to play, he thought of it while he chewed, "what is your purpose in life?"

"Wow, okay give me a really hard one," I tapped my chin, "taking care of my dad while he is taking care of me, being his messenger, bringing him food, and cleaning. Oh, listening to Amatis so I don't get in trouble, and going to the Academy, being good to Adam."

"Adam," he said the name carefully, "your friend?"

"Why did you say friend like that," he made it seem dirty, "we have been friends since day one. He is a great listener. He is also the fastest in our class too."

"He wouldn't be faster than me," Jon said proudly and he lifted his chin in defiance, "and I am a great listener."

"Oh sure, you just say that because you have to better than everyone," I closed the lid on the strawberries, "okay final question, same question, what is your purpose?

Instead of answering, he began pulling the grass from the ground, very intent on shaking his head, "you are very strange girl," he examined me, "if you didn't amuse me so much I wouldn't be wasting the time."

"You are just as strange, though that is not why I come every Sunday," I countered.

"Really? You don't find me humorous."

"Never in a million years," I confessed.

"You're cruel," he smirked.

"I am not cruel only truthful. My dear fruit buddy, remember to leave the funniness to me, when it comes to our relationship."

He didn't like the word relationship, "Explain yourself?"

"You are one of my best friends," I said simply, "I can tell you anything."

"We are not friends," he dug his heels into the ground, "we cannot be anything more than acquaintances."

"Is this because I kissed you," he flinched, "because I already apologized about that."

"It is not that. The greatest weakness of man is love. Love is the death of duty. The duty to reach your absolute best," there he goes ranting about duty, honor, love, and yada-yada, "if I am to be the man my father wishes for me to be, then I cannot have space in my life for weakness."

"So you do have parents!" I knew he would slip up one day.

"WHAT?"

"You said you have a father," I had him good now.

He was outraged, "When did I say that?"

"You said it, just then when you were talking about honor, and how you die if you love, and becoming the greatness of something like that."

"Did you listen to anything you I said?"

I shrugged, "I went blank after the first words. Jonathan, you can't expect me to listen to every word you say. Especially since whenever you do like talking it's about the greater good, and some greater purpose or something. It all sounds stupid to me."

"Stupid? You find honor to one's family stupid?"

I fisted the ground, "Now you're twisting my words!"

"I am only reiterating what you just said." He stood up, "I don't have time for this anymore, and I need to go. It is getting late."

The sun was not going to set yet, and it was hardly late. I felt like complaining and saying that, our time wasn't over yet.

I couldn't help it, "But you haven't answered all of my questions yet."

"Yes, I am well aware," he got up leaving and I noticed that he looked crestfallen.

"Hey!" I handed over the bag of all the strawberries.

"Here, you should take some for the walk home." He grabbed the bag of strawberries. My fingers brushed against his palm, and tingles shot through my arm. Did he feel that? It didn't seem so because he walked away without a word. Your welcome Mr. Ungrateful!

He looked mad. Did he really get upset over what I said? I did not intend to put any of his beliefs down, and I was surprised that he would feel this way. He was so smart, and why did he care what I thought of him? The black of his eyes looked defeated.

I noticed that sometimes he would leave feeling satisfied, but most of the time it was fearful and morose looking. Regret. Fear. Maybe a bit of both. Was his father kind to him? Did his mother care about where he went every Sunday? I really hoped that they did.I wiped my soiled hands on my gear watching him leave. I better just leave him alone, though when did I ever listen to my conscience.

"Jonathan!"

He turned and his eyes were hard.

"Don't listen to me; you are ten times as smarter than me, even if you are a horrible fruit buddy!"

He gave me a grimace, and walked away.

I could have told you that my words didn't have an effect on him, but they did. He walked with such prideful strides I was surprised that he didn't fly. I was so giddy that I stood there watching him.

I memorized the way he took his strides with purpose, the last glimpse of his white head, and the leather black gear disappeared into the trees, my happiness leaving with him.

Next review has the next chapter dedicated to them!

Tell me if you want this to be around Jonathan, or more around Seraphina! I am switching back and forth, but I am open to other consideration.

from the sunny beaches,

beachchick3