Subjective Awareness

Chapter One Part Two

Soon, they were able to sit down for a well-rounded meal at their sturdy cherry table. Each one did their part to bring it about without the supposed whining that could've been expected from the teenager. Any person who watched too many dysfunctional sitcoms and gullible enough to think that to be the norm would be taken aback to the level of respect all members of the party held for each other. The dinner lacked none of the requirements for both bodily and emotional flavor though it would not strike someone as elegant. Every individual left the table with a warm, satisfied feeling in their stomachs and another sentiment unable to be pinpointed lingered somewhere throughout their bodies. As they all departed to their separate habits, Adel decided arbitrarily to loiter among the downstairs instead of heading upstairs to embark on the dull journey that was, in her opinion, American History. She parked her small frame on the exact middle stair of the carpeted flight more labouredly than usual as the amount of food she just consumed weighed on her consciousness. She leaned closer to the dark wood planks jutting up to connect to the smooth, oiled railing that ran along the decline. Pulling her legs to the step just below where she sat and folding her arms across them, she rested her head gently on the sturdy wood. From there, she could observe all the happenings of the plane beneath without too much scrutiny from her subjects.

She metaphorically closed her eyes as she drifted off into a reality where she was able to mull over the facts of her life as a cow chewing its cud. She never was certain as to why she repeatedly did this, she wasn't even sure when the habit had even begun. She knew, though, that it had become somewhat of a regular custom; every few weeks something clinked in her brain and she had to stop for a moment and wander into a state with only her thoughts. On the outside, she looked unconscionable, barely on the borderline with zombie-like. The others in her family would often be bewildered at her odd behavior and try to bring her up to the normal state of being, however, since she could not offer them any solace as to why she did this, she usually took to a less noticeable perch for her recollections.

Adel sighed as she let her mind lead her to whatever it was pulling her toward. When she did this she generally felt like her brain was one of those moms tugging on her child's hand as they leaned against her, distracted by all the stimulating objects or sounds that surrounded them.

This time, she turned down the worn, familiar path of her household. Images shot across the canvas of her mind as comets in the night sky. A brightly smiling man came into view, his hair with a tenuous amount of curl situated loosely above his eyebrows. She remained at this picture for a while, recalling the many memories those green eyes staring back at her held: some pleasant, some acrid. The owner of those features was named Aaren, and she still reminisced even with seeing him just moments ago. He was her brother, older by only seven years, and it seemed uncharacteristic by normal standards for her to be living with him at this stage of her life. But circumstances always had a way of breaking through precepts. Because of her frequent deliberation of this topic, her opinions were well in check. She had decided previously of her esteem for him. He had gone through rougher things than most others, but he held his dignity. Not only that, but for the most part, his disposition was uncircumstanially light. His humor was that of a mere boy, but not of immaturity and that was something that could only occur once in a while. He was also a unselfishly generous person, he made a modest income but was never stingy, making sure she had whatever she needed. Another image flashed into her mind. It was September; he was bent down with his arm resting on her shoulder softly, as if not to scare her away. The day was the nineteenth, and he just had asked her if she wanted to live with him. She recalled looking into his eyes and not seeing the reluctance she assumed would be present. The emeralds almost spoke with a definite communication of wholesale generosity, and a certain desperation, but not to the point of forcibility. She had almost been transfixed with this quality; the ability to manifest his every feeling with such unmistakability was not common. Even to this day, she marveled at the rarity of it.

Her thoughts linked together like train cars with magnets, barreling down a road she wished not to follow. She panicked slightly and her mighty wall of solidarity shook with tremors of her qualm. She took control and bunny rabbited her thoughts until they addressed themselves orderly in a comfortable line, leading to a much more agreeable subject. Her consciousness obeyed and chugged a more subtle quantity of pictures into the forepart of her brain. The images held little strife, so she relaxed somewhat and reflected on the more insignificant memories. The subject of the scenes was a small woman named Kacey, her face continually alight with amiability. The young woman's hair was lackluster and her eyes a pallid russet, but aligned nothing with her personality. Adel was convinced that her rusty locks had once been spunky scarlet, it just seemed so natural. Once again, Kacey had been a common theme of her reflections and she had her determinations about her in line. She had married Aaren only five months before Adel had joined them. She remembered thinking, "How could I just barge in on their life? It's not their responsibility to take care of me. I mean, she's not even related to me, so she shouldn't feel the obligation." All that doubt flew out that window the night she moved in, and with it, the burden of that particular anxiety fled as well. The woman whom she barely knew welcomed her with such enthusiasm that Adel had been at a loss for words in astonishment. In addition, as if that wasn't enough, Kacey had clever insight and inclination toward her as well. She could sense whatever Adel needed, and took all steps in providing it. She never would have anticipated being close with her brother's wife, but now that she had, she wasn't quite sure how she would've gotten along without her.

She exhaled again, lingering on the gratitude that these really were genuine, one of a kind people that she was living with. She was determinate in her belief that one of the best feelings in the world was gearing up for the worst, and receiving more than you ever thought.

"Adel!" a voice jarred her from her state and forced her head to stand vertical. At first, she was perturbed with the magnitude of the call, then she realized it most likely seemed more intense because of her concentration. She stretched her head to both sides, trying to seek out the owner of the voice. Aaren appeared from behind the living room wall and asked disapprovingly,

"Have you done your homework missy?" She smiled sheepishly and shook her head. "Come on, either you are unnaturally tired, or you're sneaking out in the middle of the night because I know you have enough time to sleep to not need a nap," he prompted.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I'm going," she consented, pushing her idle arms on her seat and raised her body to it's unadorned height of five four. She turned up the hallway on a swivel and slowly climbed the stairs. She wondered mindlessly if she ever would grow out of the routine. She quickly refuted herself; if she didn't, the events of her past would remain untouched, and that would never do. The bygone days of old need to be acknowledged; otherwise they could never influence the appreciation that you are somewhere new, which is infinitely better than a place in the past. Moving forward is the one thing that we can never change in life. Some might say it's bad, but where would we be without the prospect of the future? Our lives would be meaningless rocks stuck in a point in time; even if that setting was pleasant, it would become hell because nothing could progress, no character would advance, and nothing could ever exceed your expectations. For that indisputable reason, she brought to mind every situation, whether wrenching or satisfying, that transpired so she could know how much beyond her former experiences she had passed. Every incident, every emotion affects you; nothing goes by without eliciting some consequence on future matters.

With that, Adel plopped on her purple comforter and did not rise until the sun displayed the dawning of another progression.