Chasing the Future

"Favourite movie?”

“Um… Beauty and the Beast.”

“Beauty and the Beast, seriously? That’s your favourite movie, out of the millions of movies out there?”

I knitted my eyebrows, scoffing while my arms crossed over my chest and nudged his shin with my foot. The grey sunshine pierced through the water droplets racing down the window pane, sprawling over Noah’s tanned skin and his cheeky grin. He nudged me right back.

“Beauty and the Beast is a classic, it’s Disney. What’s your favourite, then?” I asked, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, feeling the frozen glass against my cheekbone.

“Fight Club, no questions asked!" His face twisted in a proud grin as he nudged me with his foot again.

I scrunched my nose. “That’s all blood and violence.”

“Which make it awesome,” he said as if the answer was completely obvious, palms facing the ceiling and his mouth parted in disbelief.

“Beauty and the Beast is a classic.”

The top of my mouth was raw from the sour skittles we had been sharing, the ravished bag now lying abandoned on the ground next to us. My tongue ran over the soreness feeling strange against my singed taste buds. Sour skittles were Noah’s favourite.

When he’d invited me to his house, I couldn’t pretend as if I weren’t completely drenched in shock, spending more time than I’d like to admit trying to think of the appropriate reply. I hadn’t gone as far as to call Nora, but I couldn’t deny that the had thought crossed my mind, and so replied with a nonchalant sure that I hoped didn't betray my true anxiety. The weather wasn’t exactly supporting as I had to trudge through the mist with my hood up and my hands stuffed in my pocket, wishing that summer wasn’t ending, but I'd made it nevertheless.

“So is Fight Club!” he argued.

“But it’s Disney, it’s nostalgic,” I pointed out.

“Not nostalgic to me.”

He grinned that too-wide grin of his.

“I’m hungry,” I told him, nudging him back. “Let’s get food.”

It was true, even though we’d devoured the entire bag of skittles, my lack of breakfast was definitely catching up to me. There was something relaxing about being with Noah, I couldn’t quite explain it, but the feelings made me want to curl up and just be peaceful. I felt peaceful. He was the lazy Sunday afternoon incarnated.

“It’s raining, you want to walk in the rain?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The corners of my lips quirked into a smile. “It’s called a car, of course.”

His face immediately fell passive and he didn’t return the nudge war we had started. He sat up a little straighter on the window seat we’d been comfortably lying across for the last half hour. “We’re not driving.”

There was something definite about his tone, unlike the usual joking hints laced through.

“Um… why not? It’s a lot easier? I can drive, if you want,” I offered, feeling a little uneasy all of a sudden, the peace being ripped away in a matter of seconds. I regained my composure, throwing my feet off the ledge.

“We’re not driving,” he repeated. “I don’t drive.”

Suddenly his entire composure had shifted, his carefree and generous grins had vanished and replaced by an incredibly defensive Noah.

“What’s wrong with driving?” I pressed, curiosity in my voice.

“I just don’t drive.” He shrugged, as if he was playing nonchalant, but I could tell that there was something he was keeping hidden behind his lips.

“Everyone drives.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, taking me by surprise by his snip tone. “I think you should go now, I’m going to eat dinner soon.”

I nodded without a word, grabbing my things before being what I felt like hurled out of his door. For a moment I stood, head twiriling with confusion and my mind trying to feebly process what had just happened, how everything had shifted so rapidly that I couldn’t even catch it before it was slipping through my fingers. It’s funny, that way, how one moment everything is peachy keen and the next disaster strikes without even a warning before its throwing you out the door.

All it takes is a moment and suddenly everything is gone, but that was something I'd learned long before.
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There’s just something about being alone. It’s almost as if there isn’t another human soul out there, a post-apocalyptic graveyard surrounds you. It’s funny that way though, because somehow with over six billion other people out there, we can feel as if the only sound in the entire universe is our breathing, out and in, out and in. As if there aren’t a billion other people that are sitting there, by themselves in their own post-apocalyptic graveyard, out and in, out and in. But in that moment, it’s only ourselves.

The only thing that’s of any company is your thoughts, your dreams and your worries and they never make good guests. It’s you and your problems and you’re wondering if you should’ve done that and maybe you should’ve done this instead and even though you can’t change it, what’s done is done, you still replay it over and over in your head until you feel sick, right in the stomach and right in the mind and right in the heart.

As I sat there, engulfed in the knitted blankets my aunt used to make, I felt as if suddenly there wasn’t another surviving person in the entire world. There was only the rain, pitter-pattering on the roof and the soft rising of Thunder’s stomach as he slept. The house was thick with silence, smothered over ever crevice, broken only by my steady breathing.

I shouldn’t have pushed it, I know I shouldn’t have, and in my mind all I could play over and over was me never saying a word, swallowing my sentences. I couldn’t change what happened, the humiliation that burned in my throat or the way that my stomach knotted itself intricately, never to untie, but it was nice to imagine.

Something in the back of my mind told me that there was something a lot bigger hiding behind the mask, I was missing something but the problem was I didn’t know what, and I couldn’t fix it, and I felt so alone and embarrassed and I wanted to cry but I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t cry over something so small and stupid, what self respecting person would? There were bigger problems at hand, people were dying, and all I cared about was that the boy I liked didn’t like me. But I couldn’t help it, because in that moment, it was important to me.

Did I like him? Maybe or maybe not, but all I knew was that the feeling in the pit of my stomach was not something I’d like to get used to.

“Ana?”

I wiggled in my warm cocoon, turning my head to see my grandpa wobbling through the door, two steaming mugs in hand. A smile spread across my face as I shimmied into a sitting position, creating a spot for him to sit down in, which he did while handing me one of the hot chocolates.

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, allowing the radiating heat to soothe my frozen fingers.

He even added some marshmallows. A pang resonated through me for home but was quickly shaken off. I could have hot chocolate with marshmallows anywhere.

For a moment there was only silence between us as we tentatively sipped at our drinks.

“Do you ever miss her, granddad?”

Even though he should’ve been, this question didn’t even ruffle my grandpa in the slightest, almost as if he were expecting it. Even though he was old, he still had a full head of hair with a receding hair line, but it was all washed grey, gold wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He gave me a sad smile.

“Everyday,” he admitted

A lump immediately formed in my throat and again I had to convince myself not to cry, keep the tears at bay. He took another sip of his drink.

We continued to sit there, with the rain tapping on the roof and tentative sipping of hot chocolate until Thunder finally awakened and immediately demanded all attention from grandpa, hopping onto the couch with us. I took a deep breath, rubbing him gently and watching as granddad rubbed his head with affection, casting me a smile which I return.

“Do you ever miss them?” he asked me, and I was caught off guard. Unlike him, it took me a moment to process his question, scrambling to find the right words to reply. I sat there dumbfounded until finally there was only one, perfect answer that could be said.

“Everyday,” I admitted.

He nodded his head, understanding. No other words were said. No other words need to be said. But finally, I wasn’t alone.

“It’s not too late,” he reminded me.

I knew what he meant by his words but rather decided to take them in a different context. Instead, I applied it to the now, and knew what I had to do. I couldn't escape all my problems, some of them had to be faced, and I'd rather the small than the clouds hovering over my head.

I knew what I had to do.

My hair was drenched, hanging down my shoulders in tangled knots, plastered to my cheeks and soaked sweater. The fabric was clinging onto my skin and my toes were almost frozen solid, the water tickling my heel. My mascara was smeared. Standing outside his door, I resembled a drowned rat, I did.

I couldn't have cared less, though.

“I’m sorry I pushed it."

I stared at him. He stood there.

“Anastasia? I um… what are you doing here? Come in,” he ushered me inside, leading me into the warmth of his home which, with the torrential downpour entertaining me outside, I was very grateful for. I didn’t waste any time, though.

“I shouldn’t have pushed the car thing, and you don’t have to tell me why, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Really,” I told him earnestly.

“I… it’s fine, I was overreacting, really.”

“No, I was being stupid.”

“You weren’t being stupid.”

“I was being stupid.”

“Okay, maybe you were being stupid.”

There was something in his eyes, they were so dark but under the light I could make out his pupil and the chestnut ring around, that made me relax. They were comforting. Almost as if they were smiling without his lips. As if they were telling me that it was fine, the moment had passed and it didn't matter that I didn't do the right thing, that I never did the right thing. In that moment I felt safe, no need to worry, which was all I ever tended to do.

“Can I… um… get a hug?” I asked, feeling incredibly stupid after the words had left my mouth. I wasn't sure why, but it felt almost right, exactly what I wanted. A blush splayed over my cheeks and I was suddenly very much aware of how drenched I was, with sopping wet hair dripping on the hardwood beneath us.

“I’m pretty irresistible,” he told me, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a tight squeeze. I laughed.

And in that moment, I didn’t want to ever let go.