Still Beat
Chapter 4.
I knew the girl.
Years ago, I had been an acquaintance of her mother. I remembered the woman as being like a raven: dark, flighty, and beautiful.
I knew the girl's father, too. He was a man of appearances, and a man concerned with himself above all. Always with a mournful look in his eyes. Always unhappy.
So when I saw her on that bench, with her father's sadness in her eyes, I felt as though I could understand.
Those eyes were a shade of pale blue that you could not compare to ice, or the sea, or an aquamarine gem. They were neither gray nor blue, and in my mind, they were a trademark. Brighter than the lifeless color of her father's eyes, but no where near the hazel of her mothers. She was an outcast from the day she first took in the sight of the world. They were little Maddison's eyes.
It was pure coincidence that we met again on the bus to nowhere, but too strange to deny. Part of me wanted to call it fate, but another part chided myself for even considering the idea. Looking into her eyes again, I could see she was surprised and wary to see me, but not scared. She eased herself into the seat across the isle from me, and folded her empty hands across her lap. No belongings - it was the best way to travel, but instinct told me it wasn't a personal decision. More along the lines of a personal condition.
I wanted to smile at her, this girl so much like myself. I never dreamed that she would take my advice; just pick up her things and go where her heart, or a Greyhound bus, would take her. But here she was, sitting in front of me with uncertainty and excitement, embracing what it is to be young and alive.
"Nice to see you again, miss."
"You, too," she replied. I wasn't entirely sure if she meant it, but it's always a nice thing to here.
"So, you're going to Indian Orchid, too?" She nodded. "And what are planning to do there?"
Her face fell a little when I asked. She stayed silent for a moment, thinking. What could a girl possibly do in a strange city, empty handed? Really, the possibilities were endless.
"I think I'm planning on getting lost," she finally answered. "Of course, I would know where I was, but know one else would. And on the off chance that someone would actually look for me, well, I guess I'd just be lost."
"How nice. Lost..." I repeated, leaning back in my chair, closing my eyes. The word felt nice on my tongue. "Lost. O, lost."
"And what about you?" she asked. I could hear her adjust her body more towards me. A sign of interest and comfort.
"Me? Oh, I'm just restless. Always have been, I suppose. Restless, detached, bored. There's too much of the world out there for me to see. No plans to speak of but to take things in."
As I spoke, the bus lurched forward, pulling out of the station and making it's way toward the highway. Maddison's attention was drawn away from me and toward the window where the scenery passed in a blur of forest green and asphalt black. I watched her eyes flicker back and forth as she focused on moving objects, and soon she sank into her seat and fell silent.
The last time I had seen her, I was young, but she was just a baby. She was yet unable to form words, but she was still quiet. They say children and babies can sense emotions; can tell when someone's upset or mad. I suppose, even then, she could feel the tension between her mother and father. The word "infidelity" hung in the air every time she came wobbling into the room, clumsily knocking over drinks or ash trays and causing even more strain. I remember laughing at her faults, but seeing that look in her father's eyes. Mistake, they read. A mistake, a problem.
There was anger building up in that man, Antony. Anger like hot coals, like a virus. As I watched Maddison stare out at the scenery, I hoped maybe she hadn't been infected, and if she had, I prayed there was an antidote.
Years ago, I had been an acquaintance of her mother. I remembered the woman as being like a raven: dark, flighty, and beautiful.
I knew the girl's father, too. He was a man of appearances, and a man concerned with himself above all. Always with a mournful look in his eyes. Always unhappy.
So when I saw her on that bench, with her father's sadness in her eyes, I felt as though I could understand.
Those eyes were a shade of pale blue that you could not compare to ice, or the sea, or an aquamarine gem. They were neither gray nor blue, and in my mind, they were a trademark. Brighter than the lifeless color of her father's eyes, but no where near the hazel of her mothers. She was an outcast from the day she first took in the sight of the world. They were little Maddison's eyes.
It was pure coincidence that we met again on the bus to nowhere, but too strange to deny. Part of me wanted to call it fate, but another part chided myself for even considering the idea. Looking into her eyes again, I could see she was surprised and wary to see me, but not scared. She eased herself into the seat across the isle from me, and folded her empty hands across her lap. No belongings - it was the best way to travel, but instinct told me it wasn't a personal decision. More along the lines of a personal condition.
I wanted to smile at her, this girl so much like myself. I never dreamed that she would take my advice; just pick up her things and go where her heart, or a Greyhound bus, would take her. But here she was, sitting in front of me with uncertainty and excitement, embracing what it is to be young and alive.
"Nice to see you again, miss."
"You, too," she replied. I wasn't entirely sure if she meant it, but it's always a nice thing to here.
"So, you're going to Indian Orchid, too?" She nodded. "And what are planning to do there?"
Her face fell a little when I asked. She stayed silent for a moment, thinking. What could a girl possibly do in a strange city, empty handed? Really, the possibilities were endless.
"I think I'm planning on getting lost," she finally answered. "Of course, I would know where I was, but know one else would. And on the off chance that someone would actually look for me, well, I guess I'd just be lost."
"How nice. Lost..." I repeated, leaning back in my chair, closing my eyes. The word felt nice on my tongue. "Lost. O, lost."
"And what about you?" she asked. I could hear her adjust her body more towards me. A sign of interest and comfort.
"Me? Oh, I'm just restless. Always have been, I suppose. Restless, detached, bored. There's too much of the world out there for me to see. No plans to speak of but to take things in."
As I spoke, the bus lurched forward, pulling out of the station and making it's way toward the highway. Maddison's attention was drawn away from me and toward the window where the scenery passed in a blur of forest green and asphalt black. I watched her eyes flicker back and forth as she focused on moving objects, and soon she sank into her seat and fell silent.
The last time I had seen her, I was young, but she was just a baby. She was yet unable to form words, but she was still quiet. They say children and babies can sense emotions; can tell when someone's upset or mad. I suppose, even then, she could feel the tension between her mother and father. The word "infidelity" hung in the air every time she came wobbling into the room, clumsily knocking over drinks or ash trays and causing even more strain. I remember laughing at her faults, but seeing that look in her father's eyes. Mistake, they read. A mistake, a problem.
There was anger building up in that man, Antony. Anger like hot coals, like a virus. As I watched Maddison stare out at the scenery, I hoped maybe she hadn't been infected, and if she had, I prayed there was an antidote.
♠ ♠ ♠
In case you couldn't tell, this chapter is in the man's point of view.Bet you didn't see that coming.
Well, you couldn't have, because I didn't even see that coming.
I just wrote it while doing my hair, and figured since I was having major writer's block with this story, that I'd just run with it.
Sorry if it's confusing, but, hey, what can you do? (...)
Comments are extremely appreciated. :)