Finch.
12.
“So have you talked to Norah since-”
“No William, I haven’t.
William keeps trying to bring up the subject of Norah’s wedding to Matthew Fletcher. He’s persistent.
It’s because we’re finally on our way home, to indeed see the bride to be.
I’m scared.
Birdie’s terrified.
Everything is uneasy.
Ellie’s asleep in the back of the van, and William is sipping water with one hand on the steering wheel. I try to stay calm, but I don’t think I can. The wedding is a month and a half away, and only forty five days. July seventh is the date, because of course it’s so lucky.
But everything is so unlucky.
I don’t want to go back to the little red house made of brick that Norah’s been living in for the past four years. I don’t want to see Chicago again. It terrifies me. The sky scraper buildings with three hundred windows used to make my eyes wide with wonder when I was a child.
Now they make me sick, especially when I see bus stops.
“Birdie, it’s time to get up. We’re home,” I am saying as best I can, but I feel like I may vomit. Birdie’s eyes are just glazed over. She doesn’t want to get up off the bunk. She shakes her head, so I tell her to back to sleep. I lift her and carry her up the cement driveway.
William is giving me a knowing look, a sorry look. I just nod.
I make my way to the bricks and the white door with a half conscious little girl in my arms. She feels weightless, it’s startling.
I breathe in, and I breathe out, then I close my eyes.
I picture my sisters lovely face, her hazel eyes that match mine, and the dark straight hair. I picture the red lipstick she always has smeared on her mouth and the black eyeliner drawn across her top eyelid.
I picture her rosy cheeks and the spaces between her teeth.
I love my sister, which is why I knock on the door.
At first there is no answer.
William rings the bell.
Jacob coughs.
Time is very moving slowly.
William knocks once more.
The door is opening slightly, as if the person is checking something.
I hear a click as the door unlocks.
And standing here before me, with this beauty in my arms, and worry in my eyes, is Matthew Fletcher.
I can’t breathe.
“No William, I haven’t.
William keeps trying to bring up the subject of Norah’s wedding to Matthew Fletcher. He’s persistent.
It’s because we’re finally on our way home, to indeed see the bride to be.
I’m scared.
Birdie’s terrified.
Everything is uneasy.
Ellie’s asleep in the back of the van, and William is sipping water with one hand on the steering wheel. I try to stay calm, but I don’t think I can. The wedding is a month and a half away, and only forty five days. July seventh is the date, because of course it’s so lucky.
But everything is so unlucky.
I don’t want to go back to the little red house made of brick that Norah’s been living in for the past four years. I don’t want to see Chicago again. It terrifies me. The sky scraper buildings with three hundred windows used to make my eyes wide with wonder when I was a child.
Now they make me sick, especially when I see bus stops.
“Birdie, it’s time to get up. We’re home,” I am saying as best I can, but I feel like I may vomit. Birdie’s eyes are just glazed over. She doesn’t want to get up off the bunk. She shakes her head, so I tell her to back to sleep. I lift her and carry her up the cement driveway.
William is giving me a knowing look, a sorry look. I just nod.
I make my way to the bricks and the white door with a half conscious little girl in my arms. She feels weightless, it’s startling.
I breathe in, and I breathe out, then I close my eyes.
I picture my sisters lovely face, her hazel eyes that match mine, and the dark straight hair. I picture the red lipstick she always has smeared on her mouth and the black eyeliner drawn across her top eyelid.
I picture her rosy cheeks and the spaces between her teeth.
I love my sister, which is why I knock on the door.
At first there is no answer.
William rings the bell.
Jacob coughs.
Time is very moving slowly.
William knocks once more.
The door is opening slightly, as if the person is checking something.
I hear a click as the door unlocks.
And standing here before me, with this beauty in my arms, and worry in my eyes, is Matthew Fletcher.
I can’t breathe.
♠ ♠ ♠
I apologize that I'm neglecting my other story.This one, I'm just getting really attached to it.
I can't control what my heart wants to write about.