Sequel: Elysian ›
Status: In Progress
Restless Insomniacs
Yale
Staring right now at into the beauty of the lake I can’t help but compare the view to Daria, and notice in comparison to her it pales. Even with the light hitting the lake in all the right spots it really is nothing compared to her. I think maybe I should tell her this because she looks so sad, so broken, but I don’t want her thinking I feel obligated.
I bite back the words and sit down on the floor still staring out the window watching Daria in my peripheral vision, she follows suit never tearing her eyes from the magnificent view, and I can’t help but ask Daria about her family, I need to know if she would understand what my sister put me through.
“What are your parents like?” I know her dad is dead and I want to hear more, more about him, whoever he was. I want her to open up to me like I am scared to do with her, I hope she understands all this but I fear she doesn’t.
“My mum and I don’t really get along, we used to. She… She was young when she had me so we were always more like sisters rather than mother and daughter. That was until…” She pauses and I am on the edge, figuratively, of my seat waiting to hear all she has to say.
“Until what?”
“My dad died,” She closes her mouth and I see something flash across her face, regret at telling me, maybe sadness? I can’t tell, but something bubbles up within me at the thought of Daria sharing a secret with me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, I hope she doesn’t think this means I will share everything with her.
“My sister killed herself,” I admit, hoping she wants no further explanation, I don’t know if I can give it.
“Why?” Daria asks, I want to tell her but I realise it is not my story to tell, not my secret to tell.
“No love,” I say calling her by that stupid nickname in an effort to push her away, even if I want more than anything to pull her closer. “My turn to ask a question, how did your dad die?”
Daria stares at me for a moment before looking back out the window. I can tell she is deciding whether or not to tell me, she shrugs her shoulders and I feel an internal pull from deep within me. Neither Daria nor I are willing to share what really matters with each other.
“How did you find out about Remy?” Daria asks referring to the rumours that feel like happened a month ago rather than a few hours;
“Oli.”
“Right,” Daria says quickly, we sit in silence willing the other to answer the questions while being to chicken shit to do it ourselves.
I bite back the words and sit down on the floor still staring out the window watching Daria in my peripheral vision, she follows suit never tearing her eyes from the magnificent view, and I can’t help but ask Daria about her family, I need to know if she would understand what my sister put me through.
“What are your parents like?” I know her dad is dead and I want to hear more, more about him, whoever he was. I want her to open up to me like I am scared to do with her, I hope she understands all this but I fear she doesn’t.
“My mum and I don’t really get along, we used to. She… She was young when she had me so we were always more like sisters rather than mother and daughter. That was until…” She pauses and I am on the edge, figuratively, of my seat waiting to hear all she has to say.
“Until what?”
“My dad died,” She closes her mouth and I see something flash across her face, regret at telling me, maybe sadness? I can’t tell, but something bubbles up within me at the thought of Daria sharing a secret with me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, I hope she doesn’t think this means I will share everything with her.
“My sister killed herself,” I admit, hoping she wants no further explanation, I don’t know if I can give it.
“Why?” Daria asks, I want to tell her but I realise it is not my story to tell, not my secret to tell.
“No love,” I say calling her by that stupid nickname in an effort to push her away, even if I want more than anything to pull her closer. “My turn to ask a question, how did your dad die?”
Daria stares at me for a moment before looking back out the window. I can tell she is deciding whether or not to tell me, she shrugs her shoulders and I feel an internal pull from deep within me. Neither Daria nor I are willing to share what really matters with each other.
“How did you find out about Remy?” Daria asks referring to the rumours that feel like happened a month ago rather than a few hours;
“Oli.”
“Right,” Daria says quickly, we sit in silence willing the other to answer the questions while being to chicken shit to do it ourselves.