Love, Augustus
Love's a funny thing.
Tallulah Sanders was a funny girl, if you pushed past her closed exterior and steel heart. If you were lucky enough to be graced with her laughter in your lifetime-you would never forget it. It would be like one of those memories you tell your children about, as you sit by the fireplace drinking a warm soda on Christmas morning. A memory from the “good ol’ days” when you didn’t have kids and could spend your money on hair dye and cheap booze your brother bought you. And she laughed at the simplest things; whether you told a somewhat funny joke, a joke that made no sense but she liked to laugh just to hear herself, or just something you said. Tallulah’s rose lips were always agape while around me. Not in the pervert way, of course, but in the ‘I-like-being-around-you’ way. Or so I told myself countless times. She liked to lean her head towards you as she laughed. Her dyed hair would brush against your cheek and cause goose bumps to appear on every inch of skin. Her slim hand would grasp your forearm and it felt like you were about to break under the weight of her happiness. It transferred from her hand to your arm by a simple touch and you felt her fingertips still lingering days afterwards.
Tallulah’s hand pressed against my cheek as she caught me staring into oblivion while I was supposed to be learning about chemistry. She smiled, popping a pink bubble in my face.
“Aug, you’ll get in trouble if she sees you.” She always liked to be motherly. Protecting me from detentions and high school conflicts. “Yeah, sorry.” I shrugged and trained back to the elderly teacher who stood with a slight hunch. I assumed she was a widow, seeing as her wedding ring went untouched in her desk drawer and how she liked to rush through parts in stories where two people fell madly in love.
Love. Love was a funny word. Funny meaning but not the right one. Love was much more than the bland definition-it was so much more. It was the smell of your lovers’ hair and the twinkle in their eyes. It was their hope and their hands as they brushed about your skin. It was their words and their behavior, the quirks they tried to keep hidden but the ones you found adorable. The television shows they made you watch with them and the chick-flick movies you endured just for them. It was the way they kissed you, they way they made love to you and the way they made you feel special. It was their entirety and their smile. It was their reason to live. And they were yours.
A voice berated against my eardrums and when I blinked I saw the teacher next to my desk, her eyes glaring over her glasses.
“Mr. Blakely, is there something you find more interesting than chemistry?” I hated teachers like that, ones who thought their subject was the best, and most important, of them all. The ones who thought your entire life should be spent revolving around that subject.
“Actually yeah. I find the universe more interesting than chemistry, but I still listen.” Her eyebrows rose and her face flushed red and I swore she was about to go on a rampage. But instead she sent me to the Principal’s office, and a few seconds later Tallulah appeared by my side.
“That was class A back talk, you must be taking lessons from me.” She smiled and sat in a vinyl seat, picking at her chipping nail polish while I lingered in the hall.
“What were you thinking about, anyway?”
“Love.”
“And who do you love, Augustus Blakely? I know you love someone.”
She knew me all to well. She knew when I was lying about my feelings and new when I gave her the valentine flowers even when I swore I didn’t. So it was logical to not lie, because she would know I was and pester me until I told her the truth.
“You.” But I didn’t. As the words were forming on my lips and the sound began to crawl up my throat the Principal’s door was flung open and he beckoned us in.
If only she could read my mind, see what was inside and drown in it. Then I wouldn't have to force the words from my mouth, she would already know-god would she already know.
Love; it’s the obliviousness of the person you love and the little things that keep you apart.
Tallulah’s hand pressed against my cheek as she caught me staring into oblivion while I was supposed to be learning about chemistry. She smiled, popping a pink bubble in my face.
“Aug, you’ll get in trouble if she sees you.” She always liked to be motherly. Protecting me from detentions and high school conflicts. “Yeah, sorry.” I shrugged and trained back to the elderly teacher who stood with a slight hunch. I assumed she was a widow, seeing as her wedding ring went untouched in her desk drawer and how she liked to rush through parts in stories where two people fell madly in love.
Love. Love was a funny word. Funny meaning but not the right one. Love was much more than the bland definition-it was so much more. It was the smell of your lovers’ hair and the twinkle in their eyes. It was their hope and their hands as they brushed about your skin. It was their words and their behavior, the quirks they tried to keep hidden but the ones you found adorable. The television shows they made you watch with them and the chick-flick movies you endured just for them. It was the way they kissed you, they way they made love to you and the way they made you feel special. It was their entirety and their smile. It was their reason to live. And they were yours.
A voice berated against my eardrums and when I blinked I saw the teacher next to my desk, her eyes glaring over her glasses.
“Mr. Blakely, is there something you find more interesting than chemistry?” I hated teachers like that, ones who thought their subject was the best, and most important, of them all. The ones who thought your entire life should be spent revolving around that subject.
“Actually yeah. I find the universe more interesting than chemistry, but I still listen.” Her eyebrows rose and her face flushed red and I swore she was about to go on a rampage. But instead she sent me to the Principal’s office, and a few seconds later Tallulah appeared by my side.
“That was class A back talk, you must be taking lessons from me.” She smiled and sat in a vinyl seat, picking at her chipping nail polish while I lingered in the hall.
“What were you thinking about, anyway?”
“Love.”
“And who do you love, Augustus Blakely? I know you love someone.”
She knew me all to well. She knew when I was lying about my feelings and new when I gave her the valentine flowers even when I swore I didn’t. So it was logical to not lie, because she would know I was and pester me until I told her the truth.
“You.” But I didn’t. As the words were forming on my lips and the sound began to crawl up my throat the Principal’s door was flung open and he beckoned us in.
If only she could read my mind, see what was inside and drown in it. Then I wouldn't have to force the words from my mouth, she would already know-god would she already know.
Love; it’s the obliviousness of the person you love and the little things that keep you apart.
♠ ♠ ♠
one out of one. comments would be nice.(: