The Coincidental Things (boyxboy)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A warm breeze delicately sweeps through the air, kissing the tear-soaked cheeks of the mourning party.  A brief, yet elegant, ceremony - showing homage to the success and achievements of the most important person in my life.  Well, previously in my life.

Both people I know and strangers drift to and fro, each paying their respects;  shedding a tear here and there.  But I want more than tears, nay;  I demand it.  I want people to bawl their eyes out, to lose their breath as their body collapses under them and they tumble to the cold earth in which my Aunty will now eternally lay - but they don't.  

Amazing Grace plays as her casket slowly lowers into the ground - each inch she descends, a painful reminder of both the physical and the metaphorical distances between us.  The crowd starts to disperse and wonder off as only the priest, and a lady with blonde hair, remain. 

Her emerald green dress seems out of place in such a drab part of town - its pricetag enough to overshadow any of the ornately decorated headstones.  Painfully, her dress becomes dirty as she collapses to her knees and starts weeping into the grave - I feel for her, whoever she is. 

Trying to consolidate my emotionless soul, the priest baffles about how my Aunty is now in heaven.  But she shouldn't be in heaven, she should be here with me.  My eyes drift off as I imagine a place anywhere else, away from here.

My imaginary holiday dissipates away as the blond lady stops mourning, her confident stride gaining my attention as she nears slowly.

"Hello Nathan."  I gasp, slightly taken back.  Many people knew my aunty, but not many people knew me;  and certainly not anyone as beautiful as this lady.

"Hello Catherine...?" I reply in a questioning tone, grabbing her name from my blurry memory - a stab in the dark really.  She nods - a charming smile spreading across her face, replacing the fading expression of sadness.

"I guess you're coming home with me."  She jokes, I laugh in politeness, but can't seem to find the humour in her joke.  My perplexed expression urges her to carry on.  "Are you ready to leave? No pressure. We have all the time in the world."  I take a breath in, processing what she has just said to me.  I look down at the now covered dirt mound, my silent last words floating to my Aunty.

"I'm ready."  I confirm while standing up and following her to the carpark.  She claps giddily as she sweeps an arm over my shoulder, and takes me back the car.

**********

We make a quick stop at the apartment to get my bags, I assure her I'll be fine by myself and make my way up the 3 staircases I've known for the majority of my childhood - I never knew I'd miss some staircases.  Especially not these raggedy ones, that've stolen my breath for as long as I can remember.

Unlocking my apartment, I walk in and see my bags laying lonely on the floor - no other furniture to surround them.  Just like me.  Lonely.  A tear slides down my cheek, followed by another...and another.  I start crying in my empty apartment, in my empty home, in my empty heart. 

A few minutes transcends into an hour and the tears stop - not voluntarily, more so because I don't think anymore tears would leave my eyes even if I wanted them too. 

I get up and check my face;  dismissing my red eyes and puffy nose before standing up and heading out towards the car.  Catherine smiles at me and lets a silence settle upon us as we drive towards her house - silence the perfect environment for my heartbroken soul at the moment.

We eventually reach her house, if you're unwilling to call it by its appropriate name: a castle.  A long private driveway creates enough time to admire the view, and a generous view it is at that.  Adorned with numerous windows, the two-storey house greets us as we drive into the garage.  

I get my bags out of the boot and follow her inside and down a hallway, before we turn into what seems to be the lounge.  3 beige couches and a coffee table surround the large, centred T.V. that's floating on the wall.  A simplistic chandelier adorns the room, providing a natural warmth into the space.  Small touches, such as a white knit blanket thrown over the couch carelessly, but stylishly, hint at the elegance and luxury of the home.  If that elegance and luxury wasn't already stated through the grand size.

"So this is our home."  Catherine announces proudly, a casual tone for something out of a magazine.  "Oh uh your bedroom is this way.  Come along."  She ushers me up a staircase onto the second floor and directs me to the white door at the end of the hall. 

She opens it and smiles as my eyes take in its beauty, drowning in the glorious flare radiating from the room.  A king bed stationed by the back wall has a gold duvet laying on top of it - accompanied by three white pillows and a grey quilt.  Two dark brown oak draws on each side of the bed have a golden lamp, and a wardrobe lays in the right corner.

I gasp as the air rushes out of my lungs.  My discombobulated brain unable to process the sheer beauty of the room.

"I'm sorry that my husband nor my son are here to greet you - but you'll get to meet them soon;  and I know that you'll love them."  She announces, leading me to the wardrobe to place my suitcases.  A son?  I wonder how old he is?  Maybe he'll be around the same age as me.

My eyes run down the floor to ceiling mirror, observing all the imperfections that God decided to curse me with. 

"How old are you Nathan?"  She asks, slicing away the self-critiques building up in my head. 

 "Um;  I'm 17 ma'am."  I answer politely, the thought that this room isn't technically mine prodding in the back of my mind

 "What a coincidence.  My son's in 17.  You might know him, his name's Samuel."  I flick my head up and meet her concerned eyes as his name leaves her lips.  Shit.  Samuel.  The Samuel.  The one and only, asshole Samuel.  Great.  I'm officially cursed.

"Ummm... Can we go to Target.  I just remembered I forgot something."  Catherine looks at me and ponders the question before nodding with a smile.  I'm unsure if she agrees out of pity or because she also needs to go to target - but I leave my bags and follow her as she makes her way back down the staircase.  Yay just a singular staircase.

"Let's go to Target Nathan." Catherine laughs, cascading effortlessly down the stairs. My breath halts in my throat upon hearing my name. 

"Please.  Call me Mercury.  It's my nickname." I lie to her, praying that the fake name will stick.  She nods, obviously confused, but mumbles Mercury under her breath - trying to lock it in to her muscle memory.

Hello.  My name is Nathan, or Mercury to those who don't know me.  And I am being forced to live with my High school bully.

A/N

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)

Now that I'm older and am re-writing the book...Mercury was definitely a bold choice for a teenage boy's name. 

Date edited: 10/8/2020

-YOP