I Never Dreamt Because I'm Just Too Busy

We stood in the line at Dion’s arguing over what kind of pizza to get.

“Peperoni!”

“Cheese!”

“Peperoni!”

“Pepperoni only tastes good when it’s cold!”

He gave me a weird look. “What about peperoni pizza being cold makes it better than hot pizza?”

“I don’t know it just does!” I even laughed at my stupidity. “Still! Cheese!”

“No we are getting peperoni!”

“Cheese!”

“Peperoni!”

“Cheeese!”

“Peperoni!” Stephen laughed.

“But-”

“Don’t make me break out the face.”

“Face?”

Just then he gave me the most ridiculous attempt at a puppy pout I have ever seen. It was somewhat cute I suppose, in a way.

I ended up laughing pretty hard, which caused Stephen to break out smiling.

“But really, can we please get peperoni?”

I sighed jokingly and smiled. “I suppose.”

“Well thank ya.”

I stood there as he ordered and when all was said and done, I tried to pay for my half of the meal.

He only pushed my hand back. “What are you doing?” Stephen laughed.

“Paying for my half?”

“Not today.” He smiled at me.

“But-“

“No buts missy. I’m paying.”

“That’s not fair-”

“In my mind it is.” He stuck his tongue out at me and smiled, before handing the money to the cashier.

As unfair as I thought it was that he paid for my half of the meal, I was flattered in a way. Actually I found it down right cute, I’m not even going to lie.

We sat down at a table, waited and began to eat once he got back with the pizza
.
“So.” Stephen said as he took a bite.

“So.” I said back, raising a brow.

“Care to explain something to me?”

I gave him a confused look, “Like what?”

“Like…why you are so…what’s the word? Softspoken. You don’t talk much, and I can tell there’s a reason.”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

“It’s a stupid story. And a stupid reason for me to become such an introvert.”

“I’m sure it’s not if it had that big an effect on you.”

“Well, uh…”

I think Stephen could sense my discomfort towards this topic, and thankfully he didn’t force me to tell him. “Think about it, and will you maybe tell me later?”

I looked up from my plate, “I suppose.”

Stephen smiled politely and I silently thanked him for letting it drop at the moment.

We continued to eat in silence for a few minutes, though it wasn’t awkward.

I felt my hair falling out of the pony tail. I reached back and pulled the slipping hair tie, only so that I could fasten it back again. Stephen looked at me.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked softly.

“Do what?” I stopped mid tie to look at him.

“Tie your hair back.”

"Oh, uh, it just gets in the way..." I looked down at my lap, letting it fall.

Stephen reached across the table, twirling a loose curl that had fallen in my face. "What are you talking about? I think it looks beautiful." He smiled lopsidedly.

I'm sure I blushed. "Er thanks..."



We laughed loudly as we walked up to the porch of my house. Things went great at Dion’s, and I soon found that we had a lot in common. I felt at ease with him now, even more so than I had before.

Though there something was lurking in the back of my mind, and I couldn’t quite shake the thought.

Ever since Stephen asked me back there about why I was so quiet, I felt the burning need to tell him the story. I’d never told anyone before, at all. I suppose maybe it’s because I felt that confessing the thoughts I had, and the reason I had them would make others think I was weak. But either way, talking about it seemed like a good idea to me now. The thought of it was like a burning itch, constantly there in the back of your mind, but you know you shouldn’t scratch it because it will only hurt you in the end.

I glanced around the vacant driveway and was somewhat glad for the first time in forever that my parents were gone.

Stephen and I had agreed to go to my house so I could begin sketching him again so that I could paint it at some point. I thought that I would draw him, and in the background maybe add some things that he liked. A bass, a guitar, maybe some lyrics. I don’t know exactly what I was going for, but at some point in the drawing I knew it would come to me.

When we walked in the door he spoke, “Are your parents always gone?”

“For the most part yes, but it comes in handy sometimes,” I laughed a little, “I wouldn’t want my dad giving you the third degree.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my shoes.” He laughed, “I’m sure it wouldn’t have been any worse than when Jess’ dad yelled at me for the time we got suspended.”

“What’d you guys get suspended for?”

“Well,” He began as we climbed the stairs to my room, “Back in third grade, I kind of sort of talked her into jumping off the roof of the school with me.”

“You what?”

“You heard me,” we both laughed, “We’d kicked the ball on the top of the roof and decided to go get it. But once we were up there I dared her to jump off and she dared me to do it as well. Actually, we jumped off three times. We both agreed it felt like the coolest thing in the world, and it wasn’t until the third time down that we got caught. Dummy me, I hadn’t realized that on the other side of the window was the principal’s office.”

“You are quite the mischief maker, Mr.Gomez.” I couldn’t help but laugh hard at the thought of a young Stephen and Jess flying off the rooftop.

“Oh, you could not believe the talk her father had with me. It was scary! He was red and the vein in his temple looked like it was going to burst!” He chuckled, “To this day I cannot look him in the eye. And he always laughs when I see him because he knows why.”

“Sounds like you guys used to have a blast.”

“Oh believe me, that wasn’t the last of it.” He plopped down on my bed and our laugher died off, as I looked in my closet for my easel and the plexiglass.

Finding it, I unfolded it and began to lightly tape the corners of the somewhat large paper I found in a stack on top of my dresser.

Noticing what I was doing, he sat up and stared blankly at the wall.

I was sketching the edges of his face when he spoke. “Anabelle?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you always so serious?”

And there it was. The burning sensation to spill out my story. I bit my lip and went back to sketching. “It’s a long story.”

“And it’s the same story as the one you didn’t tell me earlier, isn’t it?”

I let out a small breath. “Yeah.”

“You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

I looked out the window, at the slowly setting sun. “I do. But…”

“But?”

“But in a way, I don’t.”

“Why?” He asked, staring at me.

I looked down. “Because…I’m afraid of what it’s going to do to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and I’m afraid that if I talk about it, I’m going to break. That I’m going to start crying over something that isn’t worth it.” I continued to gaze out the window, “And I’m not sure I want you to see me that way.”

Stephen patted the space beside him. "I can understand if it's a touchy subject. Sometimes it helps though, to talk." He smiled softly. "Don't worry about whether or not this is going to change the way I see you, because it won't. If you cry, you cry. At least you're finally letting all of those pent up emotions go."

I wanted to tell him. I mean I really wanted to. I knew I could trust him, I was just a little too worried about overwhelming him with my emotions to the point where I scare him off. That seemed to happen every time that I let someone in, and I wasn’t sure that I was ready to risk scaring him away.

I took in a shaky breath and contemplated whether or not I should do this. I figured that once I began to talk about it, I wouldn’t be able to retain my composure. And because of that, I was worried that he would think I was stupid for letting these things get to me. It’s not like the things I experienced were bad, not nearly as bad in comparison to some things that other people have gone through. I can name many things that were worse than the things I’d gone through. The death of a friend, the loss of a loved one. Maybe even the loss of someone’s parents.

But yet, this is something that bothered me a lot. Certainly enough to have me acting this way nearly ten years later.

I glanced at him, and back out the window. His face was filled with genuine concern, and it was nice to think that someone was worried about me and my stupid problems for once, rather than the other way around.

I looked back at him biting my lip, and figured that maybe it was worth the risk.

I slowly walked over to where he was and sat beside him.

I spoke as I looked down at my hands in my lap, “Are you sure you want to know?”

He put his hand under my chin and lifted my head to look him in the eye, “Positive.”