Michael scribbled furiously, as if the entire world depended on what he was doing. As if his words were the whole world. It was obvious he'd forgotten my presence, he'd probably forgotten himself in the process.
"Michael?" I softly uttered his name. He glanced up at me, and then stared, studying my features. "What're you writing?" "Nothing." He began to write again, harder, more thoughtfully.
Nothing? Yeah fucking right.
If only I'd known.
(edited xx)
I flip the camera over and over again in my hands, running my fingers over the delicate parts, examining it with an air of interest.
Ana walks beside me as we make our way down the path leading away from class, the already setting sun beating down on our backs. The after school crowd is as energetic as ever, as people scramble about, laughing, talking, and eating.
"You wanna come with me to the cafe?" The cafe is basically a large food court in the dining hall, and unfortunately the only source of sustenance within my reach. I frown. The only eating experiences I've had in New York have been off campus. The falafel stands here? They're amazing. I shrug, sighing. "I guess, that's alright."
She studies me as we walk, falling into step. She holds her camera too, but it's in a protective case hanging on her shoulder.
"So...what're you gonna make your semester project about?" She questions me excitedly, leading me unconsciously into the chicken line. I do a quick sweep of the place, in an attempt to spot a salad bar, but I find nothing of the sort.
"My dad," I half whisper, reaching into my pocket to fish out some money. I find a pre-made salad to eat, while she decides on a thick chicken sandwich. "He's the most important person in your life?" She asks, holding her bright red tray as we trek across the cafe to find a spot to sit. I look around the busy room; it's just a huge square with an open ceiling, and a lot of rowdy people sitting around when they should be doing something productive. I frown at the sight of Michael sitting at a long table with all of his grungy friends, including Becky and Jay.
Michael frowns right back, then smirks, rolling his eyes. I look past him to see Jay smiling kindly at me, and giving a little wave. I smile back, and return the gesture, noticing how Michael looks between the two of us with an unreadable expression. Ana smiles, chuckling suggestively. "Ooh, I see you girl. Jay? Jay Lewis?" I swallow, "I've met him."
We find a private corner to sit in, and she digs into her food hungrily. I smile at the grease dribbling down her chin when she bites into her chicken sandwich. "You want some?" She mumbles through a mouthful. I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. "I don't eat dead animals." I open my salad, and frown, sighing. Cubes of chicken and bread are mixed in with the slightly browning lettuce, so I close the lid and push the container away.
"What's the matter?" "I can't eat this, I'm a vegan." I explain, and she furrows her red-colored brows, swallowing another bite of chicken. "Why?" "My dad was a vegan, so I am." "Is he dead or something?" I disagree, picking at my red painted nails thoughtfully. "I don't know where he is." She quiets immediately. "But... you're gonna make a movie about him?"
I guess I am. My dad, though I haven't the slightest idea who he is, influences everything I do indirectly. He's a vegan, I'm a vegan. He loves music, I love music. Moonsie discloses little details about him occasionally, and as she describes him she often smiles to herself, like she longs for him. I know she does. I wish she would just tell me who he is, but she always maneuvers around that inquiry.
My memories of him are vivid, his face is the only blurry spot. "Earth to Skipper?" I jump, and swallow. "Sorry, I was just..." "Well, we don't have to turn in the script for a while, so I bet you could come up with some creative way to portray him without portraying him." The assignment was pretty broad; make a movie about the most important person in your life. It was tough choosing between Moonsie and my Dad, only because she's done everything for me.
