Days Spent With Will

Lia's P.O.V
Will was right; they were loud, and that’s what had made me cry.

Because that’s just how my household was, before my father died.

Marlene and Ellen came to visit every weekend that they could, and miscellaneous members of our family were forever dropping in for a chat and some of my fathers wonderful cooking.

Even when he was still sick people came to visit, bringing him flowers, ignoring the general rule that you should be quiet around the sick. They knew that he’d prefer them to behave like nothing was wrong.

But now it was just my mother and I.

Seeing the cheerful family inside of Will’s house was like someone pouring salt in my still-raw wound. Because that was something that I could no longer have.

“Mum, this is Lia. She just lives next door,” he introduced me to the women lounging on the couch. She didn’t look old enough to be married with all these kids, in fact, some of them looked older then her. I realised that she had been the one who had borrowed the wok from us.

“Oh, hello Lia,” she said, beaming as her eyes rested on my face. “So I take it you met Will at school? What’s he like? I bet he’s one of the really annoying kids who’s always yelling about something,” she said, chuckling.

I wasn’t sure how to react, should I laugh with her, tell her what Will was like at school? My social reflexes had faded away from lack of use.

“Mum!” Will said indignantly, saving me from having to answer. “I’m not like that.” He pouted playfully.

“I know full well what you’re like, Will, it’s my job,” she commented dryly in return. Will shrugged, and huffed wearily but when he turned to me he had a brilliant smile fixed to his face.

“Anyway, you want a drink? A light snack?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at me. I bit my lip. I didn’t really want either, I only accepted his invitation because I didn’t want to go home.

“Um… Can I have umm… some orange juice?” I asked quietly so that only he could hear. He nodded, and taking my hand gently in his, led me away to the kitchen.

The inside of his kitchen was different to ours… no smaller, but more modern whereas ours had an old ‘country kitchen’ feel to it. It was lovely, when it was full, but now it was too empty. I couldn’t bear to go in it.

“Are you sure you don’t want a snack or anything?” he asked, placing my full glass on the breakfast bar and thus shaking me out of my daze. I shook my head. I was completely sure. The very thought of eating something made my stomach churn. He gave me a sceptical look, and turned away, getting something from a cupboard.

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip- it was sour. Concentrated orange juice. I forced myself to swallow it down, although it made my mouth hurt and my stomach churn even more.

I watched Will as he moved about his kitchen for want of anything better to do.

He put the kettle on to boil, and then turned to face me once again.

“So Lia,” he said brightly, “tell me about yourself.” I felt the heat rise to my face. How could I answer a question like that? I barely knew what I was like now.

“Um…” I racked my brains for something I could say to him. What did I do in my spare time, what did I like, what TV program was my favourite, what music did I listen to? All of these questions drew a blank.

I had become a shell of a person. Barely even existing. I shook the thought out of my head.
“What’s your family like? Do you have any siblings?” he prompted. I had forgotten that he’d even asked me a question in the first place.

“Umm… I have two sisters…” I licked my lips, and took another sip of my drink to lubricate my dry throat, but regretted it instantly.

The acid in my stomach did too, and it growled lowly.

He threw me a shocked look, but there was amusement there too.

“I think you do want something to eat. How about some noodles? Or quiche, my mum made a really nice one-” I cut him off. I couldn’t stand it any more, his light-hearted gentle probing, became too much to handle, and the loudness of his house, the comfortable family feel. I had to get away.

“No thank you. I should probably go… my mum is probably wondering where I am… I should go… Thank you.” My words came out in a rush, I could barely decipher them myself, which explained why he looked so shocked as I stood up, pushing my stool back violently.

I left without waiting to see if what I had said sunk in, or if he had excepted my half-baked excuses. Instead I rushed through the house to the front door, passing the living room where snatches of about five different conversations filtered though the open door.

I grabbed my bag and my coat, both which I had dumped by the door and then I was out of the house and running toward my own.

I fumbled with the keys and the lock but I got the door open after what seemed like an eternity and let myself in.

It was only after the door had slammed shut behind me that I allowed myself to think, allowed myself to regret my actions.

My house was as dead as ever, especially after the warmth and cheer of Will’s.

The bleakness and the silence crept up on me, leeching into my body through my mouth and my nose, suffocating me.

I slid down the door and begun to howl.