Status: Active
Said & Done.
the insignificance of it all:
When I finally heard my front door open and close around midnight was when I decided I had been staring at the calculus book in my lap for an entirely too long of a time period. I had told myself an hour ago that if I continued to look through the worn pages and read the words and the equations written on them I would finally start to figure out what I was doing. I was wrong.
A sigh escaped my lips as I tossed my book aside, letting it sink into the mattress beneath me while I laid back into my pillows. My whole body ached from ballet practice and I wanted nothing more than to give in to the fatigue that was threatening to overcome my body. I had almost succumbed to it when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I called out a faint “come in,” waiting for my mom to enter.
My mom was a lovely woman, but she was a tired one as well. She worked third shift at a hospital nearby, 3pm-midnight. I barely ever saw her, but when I did our talks consisted of school and ballet and what I had managed to make myself for dinner in her absence. Visits to my room upon her return home from work were very rare, but I cherished them nonetheless. She entered with a small frown on her lips, but it wasn’t anything for me to fuss over, I hadn’t seen a real smile on her face since my father had left three years ago.
“How was your day?” she asked as she sat on my bed. I sighed at how forced she sounded, as if talking to me was the hardest thing she had done today, because ya know, saving people’s lives was easy compared to being a family right? I averted my gaze from her tense form and chose instead to stare up at my ceiling.
“School was alright, ballet was great. Peggy is giving me a solo in our next showcase,” I told her, not being able to help the excitement that laced my words. Peggy was the top instructor at my studio, the hardest to impress, yet I had always maintained a close relationship with the tall, wiry woman. We had bonded the moment I had stepped foot into the studio at age six. She took one look at my red hair and said, “Oh this one’s going to be hotheaded. Let’s hope she has a soul though.” I hadn’t gotten it at my young age, but looking back on it now always made a smile come to my lips.
My mom stared at me, not one congratulatory statement leaving her lips whatsoever as she simply nodded her head. She hated my ballet, we both knew it. She wanted me to be like my older sister, my perfect older sister with perfect grades and perfect hair and a perfect scholarship to some fancy college in California. My sister had given up dance as soon as high school started, but as my mom liked to say, I let dance consume me. I couldn’t argue with her there. When family became more of a burden than a blessing I made dance my everything. It was the one thing I could control when everything else was falling apart.
“Well that’s nice,” she finally managed to say, standing up from my bed with a glazed look on her face; she was halfway out the door before she turned back around. “Your father called, he left a number for you to reach him.” And then she was gone with a slam of my door.
I sat up in my bed, crossing my legs underneath me and running a hand through hair that was still damp from my shower earlier. Part of me wanted to run down the steps and playback the answering machine just so I could write down the number my father had left, but a bigger part of me told myself it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it the last, or the time before that. I looked to my nightstand where my ballet shoes lay tangles together atop the mahogany surface. I didn’t need my dad, I didn’t need anyone.
“I hate you,” I mumbled more to myself than to the short blonde sitting next to me in the bleachers. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun atop her head, a pair of yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose as she watched the baseball game play out in front of us. I hated baseball, baseball was boring and long and did I mention boring? Baseball meant having to watch John prance around the field in pants just as tight as the ones he wears on a daily basis anyways. Baseball meant having to watch John succeed at yet another thing I 1) wasn’t good at and 2) couldn’t stand. It was utterly infuriating.
“Why do I always let you drag me to these things?” I asked, looking over to the girl I sometimes liked to refer to as my best friend. Her name was April Klein and we were complete opposites. She was carefree and laidback and didn’t give a shit about anything but herself. I cared about everything entirely too much, but played it off by trying to act indifferent, which really just made me come off as a bitch half the time. April was nice to everyone, to their faces at least, and she was particularly nice to the male species. I kind of envied that. I envied a lot of things about her, and maybe that’s why I kept her around.
She turned to me, a smile on her thin lips and even behind her sunglasses I could tell she was squinting her green eyes. “Because you love me and loving me means putting up with me, which means coming to baseball games just so I can watch god’s gift to teenage girls run across that field.” I knew who she was talking about because it wasn’t the first time she had referred to John O’Callaghan in such a manner. It made my stomach twist, but sometimes I didn’t know if it was out of disgust or something else.
I turned away from her, sighing in relief at the sight of our team shaking hands with the other team- the game was finally over. I could go home and do homework and practice my solo and- was John O’Callaghan really walking up the bleachers in my direction? I wanted to groan in frustration, because being in his presence was the last thing I needed at the moment.
The clicking noise his cleats made against the metal bleachers stopped two down from us and out of the corner of my eyes I could see April sitting up straighter, pushing out her chest in a way I had just decided was subconscious because she did it to every guy she ever talked to.
“Great game,” she gushed, and without looking at her I could tell she was probably batting her eyelashes in a manner I found to be obnoxious but somehow seemed to capture the hearts of numerous males at our school. I could see John shrug his shoulders, not really accepting his compliment before turning to me.
“Did you like the game Rowan?” He rarely every called me by my full name, but I knew he did it now because he knew it would catch my attention. Without hesitation my head had involuntarily snapped up in his direction. He seemed genuine, and three years ago I would have been able to tell whether he actually was or not, but I no longer knew John like that. In fact I didn’t really know him at all; I planned to keep it that way.
“I hate baseball,” I said, looking away from his tall frame as he nodded his head, a look of confusion coming to his face.
“Really? I remember when we were younger we used to play it all the time in my backyard and-”
“Well that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” I snapped, standing up from my sitting position and brushing past him. I hated how no matter how many times I tried to annoy him or argue with him or bicker with him he always met my hostile advances with kindness or indifference. I wanted so badly to know if he did it to annoy me or if it was just how he was, and I hated how he had that effect on me. I could hear April start to blabber at him as I continued down the bleachers, a joke about my bitchy attitude falling from her lips and making John laugh. The sound made chills creep up my spine.
I didn’t even care that April’s purse was in my car or that I was her ride home, I hopped into my jeep and I left. She could give John herpes for all I cared, but then I had to remind myself that I didn’t care at all. I felt as though I was constantly reminding myself of that.
But I never was a very good liar.
A sigh escaped my lips as I tossed my book aside, letting it sink into the mattress beneath me while I laid back into my pillows. My whole body ached from ballet practice and I wanted nothing more than to give in to the fatigue that was threatening to overcome my body. I had almost succumbed to it when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I called out a faint “come in,” waiting for my mom to enter.
My mom was a lovely woman, but she was a tired one as well. She worked third shift at a hospital nearby, 3pm-midnight. I barely ever saw her, but when I did our talks consisted of school and ballet and what I had managed to make myself for dinner in her absence. Visits to my room upon her return home from work were very rare, but I cherished them nonetheless. She entered with a small frown on her lips, but it wasn’t anything for me to fuss over, I hadn’t seen a real smile on her face since my father had left three years ago.
“How was your day?” she asked as she sat on my bed. I sighed at how forced she sounded, as if talking to me was the hardest thing she had done today, because ya know, saving people’s lives was easy compared to being a family right? I averted my gaze from her tense form and chose instead to stare up at my ceiling.
“School was alright, ballet was great. Peggy is giving me a solo in our next showcase,” I told her, not being able to help the excitement that laced my words. Peggy was the top instructor at my studio, the hardest to impress, yet I had always maintained a close relationship with the tall, wiry woman. We had bonded the moment I had stepped foot into the studio at age six. She took one look at my red hair and said, “Oh this one’s going to be hotheaded. Let’s hope she has a soul though.” I hadn’t gotten it at my young age, but looking back on it now always made a smile come to my lips.
My mom stared at me, not one congratulatory statement leaving her lips whatsoever as she simply nodded her head. She hated my ballet, we both knew it. She wanted me to be like my older sister, my perfect older sister with perfect grades and perfect hair and a perfect scholarship to some fancy college in California. My sister had given up dance as soon as high school started, but as my mom liked to say, I let dance consume me. I couldn’t argue with her there. When family became more of a burden than a blessing I made dance my everything. It was the one thing I could control when everything else was falling apart.
“Well that’s nice,” she finally managed to say, standing up from my bed with a glazed look on her face; she was halfway out the door before she turned back around. “Your father called, he left a number for you to reach him.” And then she was gone with a slam of my door.
I sat up in my bed, crossing my legs underneath me and running a hand through hair that was still damp from my shower earlier. Part of me wanted to run down the steps and playback the answering machine just so I could write down the number my father had left, but a bigger part of me told myself it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it the last, or the time before that. I looked to my nightstand where my ballet shoes lay tangles together atop the mahogany surface. I didn’t need my dad, I didn’t need anyone.
“I hate you,” I mumbled more to myself than to the short blonde sitting next to me in the bleachers. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun atop her head, a pair of yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose as she watched the baseball game play out in front of us. I hated baseball, baseball was boring and long and did I mention boring? Baseball meant having to watch John prance around the field in pants just as tight as the ones he wears on a daily basis anyways. Baseball meant having to watch John succeed at yet another thing I 1) wasn’t good at and 2) couldn’t stand. It was utterly infuriating.
“Why do I always let you drag me to these things?” I asked, looking over to the girl I sometimes liked to refer to as my best friend. Her name was April Klein and we were complete opposites. She was carefree and laidback and didn’t give a shit about anything but herself. I cared about everything entirely too much, but played it off by trying to act indifferent, which really just made me come off as a bitch half the time. April was nice to everyone, to their faces at least, and she was particularly nice to the male species. I kind of envied that. I envied a lot of things about her, and maybe that’s why I kept her around.
She turned to me, a smile on her thin lips and even behind her sunglasses I could tell she was squinting her green eyes. “Because you love me and loving me means putting up with me, which means coming to baseball games just so I can watch god’s gift to teenage girls run across that field.” I knew who she was talking about because it wasn’t the first time she had referred to John O’Callaghan in such a manner. It made my stomach twist, but sometimes I didn’t know if it was out of disgust or something else.
I turned away from her, sighing in relief at the sight of our team shaking hands with the other team- the game was finally over. I could go home and do homework and practice my solo and- was John O’Callaghan really walking up the bleachers in my direction? I wanted to groan in frustration, because being in his presence was the last thing I needed at the moment.
The clicking noise his cleats made against the metal bleachers stopped two down from us and out of the corner of my eyes I could see April sitting up straighter, pushing out her chest in a way I had just decided was subconscious because she did it to every guy she ever talked to.
“Great game,” she gushed, and without looking at her I could tell she was probably batting her eyelashes in a manner I found to be obnoxious but somehow seemed to capture the hearts of numerous males at our school. I could see John shrug his shoulders, not really accepting his compliment before turning to me.
“Did you like the game Rowan?” He rarely every called me by my full name, but I knew he did it now because he knew it would catch my attention. Without hesitation my head had involuntarily snapped up in his direction. He seemed genuine, and three years ago I would have been able to tell whether he actually was or not, but I no longer knew John like that. In fact I didn’t really know him at all; I planned to keep it that way.
“I hate baseball,” I said, looking away from his tall frame as he nodded his head, a look of confusion coming to his face.
“Really? I remember when we were younger we used to play it all the time in my backyard and-”
“Well that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” I snapped, standing up from my sitting position and brushing past him. I hated how no matter how many times I tried to annoy him or argue with him or bicker with him he always met my hostile advances with kindness or indifference. I wanted so badly to know if he did it to annoy me or if it was just how he was, and I hated how he had that effect on me. I could hear April start to blabber at him as I continued down the bleachers, a joke about my bitchy attitude falling from her lips and making John laugh. The sound made chills creep up my spine.
I didn’t even care that April’s purse was in my car or that I was her ride home, I hopped into my jeep and I left. She could give John herpes for all I cared, but then I had to remind myself that I didn’t care at all. I felt as though I was constantly reminding myself of that.
But I never was a very good liar.
♠ ♠ ♠
Delayed. Kind of a filler, idk. Things have just been hectic lately! But I am trying to get back on track, don't count me out just yet :) Please comment and subscribe!