Questioning

Have you ever thought about how much questioning affects our life?

I hadn’t until I meet her. The girl obsessed with questions. Juliette. Call her Lette.

She never had a problem with asking. Whatever she need to know she would ask, if she only wanted to know, she would ask. Even if she didn’t have a good reason to ask, she would ask.

I had never thought about how many times you ask questions in a day. I never really though about how many of those questions were important for me and how much.

“Are you gay?” That was the first of the questions she ever asked me. She enjoyed asking every question you could think of and they never stopped running out of her mouth.

I’m sure she didn’t mean it, but she made me ask questions. I started to question myself.

“No.” I never doubted that until she appeared in my life. Her, her questions, her style and everything in her. Everything about her made me question from the first time she smiled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked me.

We meet in high school, while I was still raw meet. It seemed so long ago after only one year. What made it seem so different was the way she changed me. I don’t think she ever noticed it was her. That’s was the only thing she never asked me.

“What do you think of infinity?” I couldn’t help but let out a chuckled as I though of the infinity of questions she ever asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I think your never ending collection of asked questions is the infinity.” I said spinning my chair to look at the girl sat crossed legged in my bed.

“No. I would need infinite time to ask an infinity of questions. Mines have a number as has everything.” She explained. She always has an explication for everything and a theory. She’s the don’t-believe-until-I-see kind of girl. I’ll never know how she failed maths.

“Stars don’t.” I disagreed.

“How do you know? Ever counted them all?”

“If they’re infinite how can I?”

“How do you know there isn’t only one more star left for you to count?”

I just know when to stop arguing with her because she always makes sense not making sense at all. That’s how I feel around her, like I don’t make sense yet like what I feel it’s right.

That’s her whole self, a making sense not making sense at all pile of questions. And I’m crushing on her.

It’s amazing how my world changed with only one question. A question which answer changed too.

Now, if you really think about it, every important thing in your life stars with a question. I never really noticed until she asked them to me.

“Are you sure you’re not gay?” She asked me once with a smirk. The question wasn’t supposed to be answered, but I decided it didn’t matter.

“No.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t say a thing that her facial expression couldn’t when her smirk disappeared for a moment before giving place to a smile. She already knew.

“Do you like me?”

“Of course, why the hell would I put up with you if I didn’t?” I answered with a smirk, only to look at her and see she wasn’t smiling. “Oh, you didn’t mean like that.” I realised out loud. “Why are you asking?”

“I fancy an answer.”

“No, should I?” I shrugged.

“Would it change your answer if I liked you back?” She always knew. Not only when I lied but the answer to something even if she hadn’t asked yet.

“Yeah.”

I guess that was the second important question that changed my life. I never knew there could be so many. I think I never even realized there were any.

I only realized she didn’t say she liked me back after she fell quiet. I still wasn’t used to the meanings of her questions and to see over what she says. She only asked if it would change anything, it didn’t mean she was going to change it, and she still did. That’s what I mean when I say she makes sense without making any sense at all.

What did I really have to lose? I asked myself once. That was another of my important questions, this one was asked by myself and waiting an answer by myself.
I guess I can ask important questions too.

From that moment on I decided I could ask my own important questions and make them someone else’s.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Why should I?” I didn’t hesitate before sitting myself on her lap.

“You fancy an answer.” She smirked. She wasn’t the only one that always knew. But she still did and she knew how much both of us were dying to taste each other lips.

“Not an answer. I don’t fancy an answer anymore. I found it already. Now I fancy you.”