World I Never Knew

Thanksgiving Day

Joe woke up Thanksgiving morning to a delicious smell wafting up the stairs. He stumbled out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over his head and affixed his glasses to his face. Shuffling down the hallway in his slippers he could hear singing coming from downstairs. In the whole week he’d been in the house he hadn’t heard any music except for the day when he played the piano.

After making his way downstairs he found Angela in the kitchen. Her hair, damaged and un-damaged, was pulled back into a pony tail. Her body was bent forward in front of the stove and she was singing. It took Joe a minute to recognize the song as the one he had sung for her the other day.

He stood leaning up against the doorway with an amused smile on his face. He made sure to be quiet as he watched Angela preparing a turkey for the two of them. After she closed the stove she stood up and turned around letting out a shriek when she saw Joe.

“What the hell?” she asked, a hand resting over her racing heart. Joe saw color rise on her un-scarred cheek.

“Sorry,” he whispered, still with an amused smile on his face.

He hadn’t seen her with her hair pulled back before. All week it fell in curtains across her face, never really letting him see what the fire had done to her fair skin. He examined the left side of her face, how the scars formed a sort of rough pattern over the once smooth face. The hair line on the side was further back, most likely from burning off. Even her ear and neck were slightly scarred. He wondered if the entire left side of her body was scarred. It would be like two sides to one person.

“Joe!” she said. She had been waving her arms in front of his face for almost two minutes as he continued to stare at her. He rapidly blinked his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You were staring at me.” She said simply.

“Sorry.” He said again and this time she raised her eyebrows. “So uh… you’re cooking.”

“Yeah, I figured since you’re stuck here I’d cook a traditional Thanksgiving meal. I had a turkey in the freezer and I found my Mom’s old recipe placed between two pages in one of the cook books. I’ve never cooked one on my own before… hell I haven’t had a real Thanksgiving in about six years. I hope it turns out alright.”

“Well, so far it smells perfect.”

“Thanks,” she said, going to the sink to wash her hands. “How long were you standing there anyway?”

“Long enough to hear you singing.” He said with a smirk.

“You heard that?” she asked, completely embarrassed.

“Yeah.” he said shrugging his shoulders and grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table.

“Oh geez,” she said, sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

“What, you’re a good singer.” She lifted her head to glare at him and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, okay. Constantly complimenting me does not get you points.”

“Points for what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Points to make me like you.” she replied, standing up to make her way upstairs to get dressed.

“So you’re saying you don’t like me?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He stood up to follow her. She stopped at the staircase and looked down at him over the rail.

“Yes… well… no I didn’t say that.” She said and grinned up at her, obviously extremely amused. “Oh go find some other way to entertain yourself.”

“But this is so fun.” He said, continuing to follow her.

“Seriously, go away.” She said, turning to glare at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I can’t. I’m stuck here. Snow, remember?” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the window at the end of the hallway where Angela could see the sun reflecting off of the collected snow on the ground.

“Just… go away from me then.” She said.

“I don’t want to.” He said, mimicking her stance by crossing his arms across his chest, a smirk permanently placed on his face.

“And why is that?” she asked with a sigh.

“Like I said, this is fun.”

“For you.”

“Admit it, you think it’s funny.” He said, stepping closer.

“Not in the least bit,” she said, slowly backing up.

“Don’t make me force it out of you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?” she asked.

Before she knew it his arms were wrapped around and he was tickling her. His fingers brushed against every part of her body he could get to while her arms were flailing, trying to avoid getting hit in the face. At first she was shrieking and trying to push herself away from him but then she started laughing. The mixed, boisterous laughter rang throughout the hallway.

At one point Joe’s fingers accidentally slipped up Angela’s shirt. He could definitely feel the roughness of scarred tissue underneath his fingertips. Angela immediately pulled away and slipped her shirt down over the area of skin. The laughter stopped and she stood staring down at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, out of breath from laughing. “It was an accident.”

“I know.” She whispered. He stepped closer again, his right arm outstretched but she backed away again.

“Please Angela,” he whispered.

“Please what, Joe?”

“Show me. How bad is it really?”

“No!” she scoffed.

“Why not?” he asked angrily.

“Because I barely know you! I’m not going to show you my body! You can see what is shown. End of story.” She said, turning on her heel to go into her room but he stepped forward and grabbed onto her wrist.

“How many times do I have to tell you I want to know you?” he asked as she spun around, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

“As many times as I have to tell you that I don’t want you to know me.” She said, turning around again.

“This is bullshit, Angela!”

“I was kind enough to let you into my house. That’s not like me. I’m not the kind of person you think I am. I’m not nice, I’m not generous. I’m a cold-hearted bitch.” She growled. “Get out of my house.”

“What?” he asked, his fingers slipping from his grip on her wrist.

“I said get out.”

“But… Angela the snow…”

“I don’t care Joe. I want you out of my house.”

“You can’t be serious.” He whispered. She turned to stare at him defiantly and he backed away. “Alright… I’ll get out.”