ALTHOUGH IT'S ALWAYS CROWDED, BUT YOU STILL CAN FIND SOME ROOM FOR BROKEN HEARTED LOVERS TO CRY IN THEIR GLOOM
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_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
I seem to hurt everyone around me. As much as I'm angry at him, Austin is right. "If I was a good sister, I would've seen Hugo relapsing, but I didn't. I was too busy with Austin."
"My Ottilie pie..." Maria takes my hand into hers. The acoustics of the car make my breath sound dull, but in reality, it is as shallow as can be. "You did see it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't."
"Well, I was too late." I argue.
She lets out a sigh and starts the engine. As we take on the road, Maria tries to, not so subtly, distract me. "Remember this place?" She points out at the strawberry field we're driving by, and floods my mind with memories of bitter childhood. Right by the road stand people selling pounds of strawberries to travelers passing by.
"We'd be here every Saturday." Maria smiles. The field disappears behind my peripheral vision once she takes a turn, though it is carved into my memory. "I remember you always wanting the dark red and sweet ones, while Hugo wanted the small and white ones because he liked how sour they were."
I chuckle. Forcibly, it makes me smile. "I know. I used to get so angry about it. I mean, how could you like the white strawberries? They're disgusting!"
Maria laughed along, stopping at a right red, not so far away from the field. "But Hugo would never get angry, because he was the only one that liked the sour ones, so he'd have them all to himself."
Hugo would never get angry.
That line strikes me more than I thought it would. She was right. Hugo never really got angry, and when he did, it was a quick spark that went out even quicker. Hugo is my brother, but we are nothing alike.
I'm anxious most of the time, while Hugo is only anxious when I am. I get attached too quickly, and ignore my surrounding. The only thing Hugo seems to get attached to is drugs, in which case he takes the same road as I do. He ignores his surrounding.
"Can we make a turn?" I ask as I change my mind about Hugo and I. Maybe we are similar after all.
"Why?" Maria questions.
"I wanna buy some strawberries."
Maria does not question again, and does as I ask. When we park, I step out and rush to one of the strawberry stands. "Hi, can I have all the little white ones?"
