Miscellaneous

XVIII- Charmaine

With the way the wind is blowing at us, you would think he would quickly reach the car and drive us away. Instead, he's striding as if it's not starting to get chilly to the point I'm shivering slightly. He looks back at me once he reaches the car, watching me intently for a little while. Under his gaze, I feel like I'm something that's made to be consumed, nothing more. Which scares me to even comprehend.

Once in the car, I don't even meet his eyes. I look outside just hoping that he drops me off quickly. For a while, it seems to be going as planned because the car is moving accordingly.

Then, he ruins it. Or fixes it-maybe?

"Look, Charmaine, I'm sorry." He starts and there's enough sincerity in his voice to convince me of his good intentions. "I didn't mean it, at least now, I don't. Your dad seems like a great guy and I doubt he deserves to be locked up whatsoever."

I cut him short. "Okay, great, James."

"Seriously?" He turns to me with his anger visibly simmering again but he catches himself before it controls him. "Actually, no, I get it. You're pissed at me, that's all."

More like I'm going down this spiral of self-pity and absolute confusion and he's making it hard to put my life on track. Who knew that some self-entitled guy from a carnival would rock my life like this? No, who knew a guy would affect me so much? Me, the same heartless girl who would sell anybody but family and Priscilla for money.

I wouldn't have believed it for the world.

"If you want me to be silent, I guess I understand," He says, slightly peering at me before looking back at the road again. I despise the warm feeling that washes over me whenever his dark eyes look my way or the way my thoughts get tangled at the sight of that deep brown skin, stellar jawline, and pearly whites. He's got the off-duty model going on with him and it's making me bite my tongue just to avoid saying it out loud.

The next thing he says makes me bite down even harder.

"But please don't just be silent without warning. It doesn't...feel good." He goes on, his voice almost coming out lower than expected at the end. "If you want me to be silent, just say the word and I won't talk again. Okay?"

For some reason, although the mere simplicity of that statement, I can't help but see a smile creeping on my face. That, he shouldn't witness, so I face him and with a stern tone, I almost speak. "You pissed me off there, nothing you say can change that."

"Hell, if you want me to tell you that I'm sorry a thousand times, I will." He says it with so much certainty as if he's made up his mind once and for all. He says it like it's an oath, a promise to be in my good graces. And all for what? To live a life of lies and unravel his darkest, most vengeful plans to get back at me? Sounds like he should stop dragging his feet and do it like a man—maybe so I don't ache any more than this

"Don't," I warn him. "Just drive straight."

As unreal as it is, it's taking a lot of effort to maintain such a cold demeanor. So much to be the winter when my heart's singing the song of spring: lively, new, almost rejuvenating. Then there's him, the middle of autumn. With his warm eyes and welcoming smile, something about him matches up with the cozy nature of autumn.

And maybe something about him makes me wish I could be the autumn with him.

"Got a lot on your mind?" He asks right as he stops at a red light. I'm so wrapped up in my head that for a second, I almost jump at the way his voice filled the car suddenly.

There's a shrug from me and a defensive response to cloud my inner conflict. "Not really."

"Then you should work on blinking and moving a lot more." He says with a chuckle. "I know a thinker when I see one, my dad was one of the best."

There's this growing urge to turn around, reason him dead in the eye, and bad-mouth his dad for no reason besides being petty. It's almost childish, the way I was so absorbed by the thought to the point that I actually opened my mouth to say something but then closed it shut.

To avoid that very urge from getting the best of me, I pretend as if I haven't heard anything. Maintaining my silence instead.

He kisses his teeth and starts to drum the steering well. You know, I wouldn't mind if he took fingers off that steering and put them on me instead. In fact, kissing his teeth sounds like a shame when he could be kissing—

Moving past that.

I can see the familiar landscape of my neighborhood through the window. It's streets with all the potholes and beat-up houses side by side sporting paint that's probably been the same for centuries. I see the unkempt lawns and ignored fences of all the places I've probably been to before. I feel it too, the sense of knowing that just comes naturally. It's all a little oddball of childish happiness.

That same oddball is stolen right in front of my eyes when the reality of this situation sinks in. Compared to his neighborhood, mine is the gutter. Compared to the cars he drives, we've got nothing. Compared to his whole life that's been practically paved for him, I've been taught nothing but relentless working for a longer time than I would like to remember. He's high up in the clouds compared to me, cradling all that cash and the comfort it gives him must feel amazing. Some part of me almost wishes I was born into his life and he was born into mine because maybe then, it could work out.

I would have the heart to love, wouldn't I?

"I kept my word, for the most part, by being silent." He says, finally stopping the car. "Now it's time for me to say goodnight and drive away."

I shrug, unsure of how I must respond. Whether I should be nice and grateful for the fact he took his time and drove me here or do I keep pushing him away so that every little light of hope inside either of us would die once and for all?

The latter is something I can't face. "I might've not been the nicest but thank you for still being nice either way."

He smiles, like the good person he's always been, "One thing, Charmaine."

I freeze right before I leave the car, expecting to hear him say something that will crush me into pieces. The look on his face, says otherwise.

"You can always count on me. That, I promise."

I smile, not sure of what to say besides the bare minimum. "Have a great night."

He waves before the door close and I'm walking to my door in this freezing weather. As I turn the lock, I catch myself smiling.

I really hope you meant that, James Albrecht.