Status: workin' on it...
Behind the Façade
Blue Eyes
------------Carson--------------
I hadn't seen my younger sister’s beautiful blue eyes in eight years, ever since my father took a beer bottle to her the day my mother left us. She was only six, and hasn’t seen a single thing since then.
That memory was by far my worst; coming home and finding my sister, small and delicate, a bloody, unconscious heap on the floor. Terrified and shaking, picking up the phone and calling the ambulance... I’ve pushed that memory, along with so many others, to the back of my mind.
My mind is like a file cabinet, taking my memories and stowing them away, hiding the deepest, darkest ones in the very back, where it is almost impossible to find them. At the very front of the file cabinet, one would find a plastic façade, the artificial smile I kept plastered to my face, and an abundance of lies and excuses I used to cover up for my father. I used to be a shoddy liar, barely able to cover up and put on a smile, but now it was like second nature.
I don’t know why Brianna’s eyes popped into my head at this exact moment; as I stood in the middle of the crowded dance floor, watching a punk band scream their lives out at the microphone. I shook my head, pushing the memory as far back as I could.
“Hello everyone,” the head singer of a different band called, running a hand through his hair, as the rest of his band mates walk on stage and set up their equipment. The strobes lights flickered red and black across the stage, and he squinted into the audience, his hand shielding his eyes from the harsh light. “We are ‘Behind the Façade' and get ready to be blown away!’”
He slings his guitar over his shoulder and mumbles something to his band mates before turning back and scanning the crowd. He locks my eyes for a second, and suddenly, for some reason I can't explain, in the moment our eyes locked Brianna's eyes came back to me. It was as if they were right in front of me. I shook my head and turned away from him without a second glance as the drummer started banging on the drums. I walked away slowly, scanning the tables for my best friend, Savannah. Savannah was my person; the one person I trusted with more than I could trust with anyone else, although I hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to tell her, or anyone, about my father.
I made my way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling my nose as I went. I was tossed around by various people in the crowd as I pushed through, getting knocked from side to side, getting yelled at by the people who bumped into me. As I reached the front of the crowd, I caught sight of Savannah, who was dancing right in front of the stage and clapping her hands in the air. I made my way to her and called her name, but she continued dancing, oblivious to my presence.
“Savannah!” I shouted in her ear. She turned to face me, a huge grin spreading across her face.
“Carson, you’re here!” she screamed back.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
She grinned and pointed to the drummer, “That’s him, that’s Mark!” she screamed. I turned to look at him and was not the least bit surprised. He was just Savannah’s type; he was attractive, very attractive in fact, with trendy clothing and an air of arrogance about him. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a GC magazine. "And guess what?" she cried. "We have a date tomorrow night, and he's bringing another friend from the band for you! Carson, it's going to be great! Dating guys from the same band!" I internally groaned. The guys Savannah set me up with were all the same: one step lower than her guys. Almost as handsome, almost as smart, almost as humorous, almost as nice, but never equal to hers in looks or personality. She meant well, but it never seemed to come across that way.
“Which one?” I shouted, looking at each one of the guys on the stage.
“Logan! He’s the tall one with the nice eyes!” she called back. I looked over each one of the guys again; I had no idea which one she meant. They were all tall and each one of them had nice eyes.
Finally the lead singer played the ending chords to the song and the instruments faded out. He waved at the audience and glanced down, catching my eye. He stared for a few seconds before I turned back to Savannah and asked quietly, “Which one is he? They’re all tall and they all have nice eyes.”
“That one,” she said, pointing to the bassist. He was definitely not the most attractive of the band, but he was decent enough.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“Can you believe this?” Savannah said, sighing contently. “This is incredible.” I nodded slightly as she turned her attention towards the band that was now leaving the stage. I followed her gaze to see Mark gesturing at her to come to the back with him. “Oh!” she exclaimed, grabbing my hand. “He wants me to go back with him. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll just be a few minutes!”
Without waiting for a reply, she dropped my hand and hurried to the back to meet up with him, leaving me alone next to the big empty stage.
“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t mind.” I took a last look at the stage before taking a deep breath and following her.
I hadn't seen my younger sister’s beautiful blue eyes in eight years, ever since my father took a beer bottle to her the day my mother left us. She was only six, and hasn’t seen a single thing since then.
That memory was by far my worst; coming home and finding my sister, small and delicate, a bloody, unconscious heap on the floor. Terrified and shaking, picking up the phone and calling the ambulance... I’ve pushed that memory, along with so many others, to the back of my mind.
My mind is like a file cabinet, taking my memories and stowing them away, hiding the deepest, darkest ones in the very back, where it is almost impossible to find them. At the very front of the file cabinet, one would find a plastic façade, the artificial smile I kept plastered to my face, and an abundance of lies and excuses I used to cover up for my father. I used to be a shoddy liar, barely able to cover up and put on a smile, but now it was like second nature.
“Is that a bruise on your eye?” someone would ask.
“No,” I’d reply easily, my voice never faltering. “My little sister was trying to give me a makeover and the makeup never came off.” And then I could visibly see them lose interest in me, their eyes would glaze over and they would make some lame excuse to leave. I would return to my normal place; disappearing into the corner where prying eyes could never find me.
“No,” I’d reply easily, my voice never faltering. “My little sister was trying to give me a makeover and the makeup never came off.” And then I could visibly see them lose interest in me, their eyes would glaze over and they would make some lame excuse to leave. I would return to my normal place; disappearing into the corner where prying eyes could never find me.
I don’t know why Brianna’s eyes popped into my head at this exact moment; as I stood in the middle of the crowded dance floor, watching a punk band scream their lives out at the microphone. I shook my head, pushing the memory as far back as I could.
“Hello everyone,” the head singer of a different band called, running a hand through his hair, as the rest of his band mates walk on stage and set up their equipment. The strobes lights flickered red and black across the stage, and he squinted into the audience, his hand shielding his eyes from the harsh light. “We are ‘Behind the Façade' and get ready to be blown away!’”
He slings his guitar over his shoulder and mumbles something to his band mates before turning back and scanning the crowd. He locks my eyes for a second, and suddenly, for some reason I can't explain, in the moment our eyes locked Brianna's eyes came back to me. It was as if they were right in front of me. I shook my head and turned away from him without a second glance as the drummer started banging on the drums. I walked away slowly, scanning the tables for my best friend, Savannah. Savannah was my person; the one person I trusted with more than I could trust with anyone else, although I hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to tell her, or anyone, about my father.
I made my way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling my nose as I went. I was tossed around by various people in the crowd as I pushed through, getting knocked from side to side, getting yelled at by the people who bumped into me. As I reached the front of the crowd, I caught sight of Savannah, who was dancing right in front of the stage and clapping her hands in the air. I made my way to her and called her name, but she continued dancing, oblivious to my presence.
“Savannah!” I shouted in her ear. She turned to face me, a huge grin spreading across her face.
“Carson, you’re here!” she screamed back.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
She grinned and pointed to the drummer, “That’s him, that’s Mark!” she screamed. I turned to look at him and was not the least bit surprised. He was just Savannah’s type; he was attractive, very attractive in fact, with trendy clothing and an air of arrogance about him. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a GC magazine. "And guess what?" she cried. "We have a date tomorrow night, and he's bringing another friend from the band for you! Carson, it's going to be great! Dating guys from the same band!" I internally groaned. The guys Savannah set me up with were all the same: one step lower than her guys. Almost as handsome, almost as smart, almost as humorous, almost as nice, but never equal to hers in looks or personality. She meant well, but it never seemed to come across that way.
“Which one?” I shouted, looking at each one of the guys on the stage.
“Logan! He’s the tall one with the nice eyes!” she called back. I looked over each one of the guys again; I had no idea which one she meant. They were all tall and each one of them had nice eyes.
Finally the lead singer played the ending chords to the song and the instruments faded out. He waved at the audience and glanced down, catching my eye. He stared for a few seconds before I turned back to Savannah and asked quietly, “Which one is he? They’re all tall and they all have nice eyes.”
“That one,” she said, pointing to the bassist. He was definitely not the most attractive of the band, but he was decent enough.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“Can you believe this?” Savannah said, sighing contently. “This is incredible.” I nodded slightly as she turned her attention towards the band that was now leaving the stage. I followed her gaze to see Mark gesturing at her to come to the back with him. “Oh!” she exclaimed, grabbing my hand. “He wants me to go back with him. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll just be a few minutes!”
Without waiting for a reply, she dropped my hand and hurried to the back to meet up with him, leaving me alone next to the big empty stage.
“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t mind.” I took a last look at the stage before taking a deep breath and following her.
♠ ♠ ♠
tell me what you think (=comment and subscribe :D