Author's Note: This is a response to the novel A Prayer for Owen Meany, in which me and another classmate took turns writing a piece. It was fun way to end the year, although it was difficult. This piece is really about human tendencies, and how people tend to react in certain situations. Since the classmate who wrote this with me are quite close friends and know what it is like to have difficult times with friends, we composed this piece from the viewpoint of two friends who are realizing their differences, and then the issue of them resolving the problems, or just not being able to get over them. It's not quite done yet, and quite long, but I hope it can enjoyed otherwise.(:
It was hot that day; one of the hottest days that I can remember from that summer. We slowly made our way back from a day at the beach, passing in and out of the shadows made by the trees. Our shadows danced along the pavement, warming our feet free of shoes -- they instead swinging idly from our hands. Wet towels slung over our shoulders shook with the laughter that escaped us; we had not a care in the world.
Well -- that’s what I had wanted people to believe, anyways. Although I wore a smile on my face -- and, at the time it was not forced -- there were deeper, less content thoughts on my mind... Someone cracked a joke, and I was brought back from my reverie. Laughing we continued up the street, for now, my wayward thoughts forgotten. At last, we reached our destination and were offered some relief against the hot, summer sun.
Sunlight shone upon the Hale’s home, gallantly splaying across their green lawn, expanding from gardens framing the front porch with bright, brilliant flowers all the way to the back of the house where more gardens awaited and finally to where the lawn rolled to a stop, meeting more green lawn.
“Here, I’ll go inside and get all of us something to drink. What do you guys want? I think we have lemonade somewhere...” Tallie said.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m good with lemonade,” I said, suddenly realizing how thirsty the walk back had made me become.
There were more replies from the rest of the group, and then Tallie disappeared through the screen door on the front porch.
“This house is awesome, isn’t it?” said Chelsey as soon as Tallie had left. “I mean, just look at it!”
I looked around then, taking in the house, a subtle tan color that was cut off by stone lining the bottom half of the house. The white porch wrapped halfway around, lined by flowers and a few small birch trees. The house gave a feel of welcome and charm.It looked like it had just been plucked right off a magazine page. I guess I had never realized how nice the place actually was. I had always thought of it as “Tallie’s”, and never much more than that. It struck me now that, by the looks of her house, Tallie seemed to be... rich. My thoughts on the subject were cut short though, because Tallie came back outside with our drinks and motioned for us to follow her as she headed to the back yard.
I was still involved in my own thoughts as we walked, hardly hearing someone call my name.
“Blaire, I’ve said your name three times,” laughed Brenna as she looked at me, confusion playing in her eyes, “What are you thinking about?”
Thoughts flashed through my mind, the view of Tallie’s house -- her perfect house -- and her perfect parents, always smiling these perfect, white-teethed smiles as they hung off each other. My thoughts drifted back to my family, my parents. The comparison between the two was dismal.Then I looked at Tallie, in her name-brand clothes and designer swim-suit. I admitted to myself that I was jealous of her -- her life. I was jealous of how easy things seemed for her. How so many things seemed to be just placed in her hand.
“...Blaire?” asked Brenna again, her eyebrows scrunched in the middle -- her worried look.
“Oh, uh, nothing,” I assured her with a smile, but by the look on her face I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Really, it’s nothing.”
Nothing that matters, anyway, I told myself.
. . .
Wisconsin summers are plain humid. No rain, not even the slightest chance of us receiving a light breeze to brush across the smalls of our sweat-stained backs. No relief was offered to us as we trotted through the heat waves like labored workers after our long day at the beach. We were headed to my house, a place where we could all be comfortable.
Each one of the girls in our small group offered something different to our walk. There was Chelsey, the highly fashionable, highly talkative and sometimes annoying girl who constantly cracked jokes that made us titter with excitement. There was Brenna, the ‘random’ of the bunch who could be seen (not to mention heard) breaking out into dance and song from over a mile away. There was Nicole who maintained a sophisticated reputation by daintily walking alongside everyone and discussing exciting details about the newest band she had discovered. And then there was Blaire, the “sweet” of the bunch. She would do anything for anyone at anytime of the day, no matter what.
Though kind, Blaire had always been the mysterious type. At first sight, she was nothing more than a pretty, young, quiet girl but once you really got to know her she was one of those people who turns out to be obnoxiously loud, and crazy fun. When normally she would have been coming up with a new game or way to entertain us like on any other hot summer day, I noticed on that day her ‘off’ attitude and feeling. For some reason she felt uncomfortable, just different. She was making me extremely aware of my surroundings. Was something wrong with my house, did she not like it? Was it my parents? Why does she keep looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?
“Blaire? . . . Blaire? . . . BLAIRE?!”, screeched Brenna. We all looked at Blaire and saw her cock her head slightly to the side and flash a quick smile and a little chuckle towards Brenna.
“What?”, she said obviously not realizing that Brenna had called her name three times. Brenna was worried about her too, I could tell by the puzzled expression and silent questioning that longed to come out. But she retained herself and said only,
“What are you thinking about?”
Blaire tried to tell us that she wasn’t thinking about anything, that it wasn’t a big deal but we knew better, we had known her for too long not to be able to tell when something was upsetting her.
It was then that the sun began to go down, chilling the air, and finally bringing us well needed shade that we greedily basked ourselves in. Still, I couldn't scare my mind away from the thoughts of the broken looks that Blaire had been giving us all day. When Brenna asked her what she was thinking about I remember her meek,
“Oh, uh, nothing,” and the shaky smile that followed after.
If there was one thing that Blaire wasn’t good at it was hiding her emotions. It just about broke my heart to know that she was hiding something from all of us, I thought that as friends we would share everything.
. . .
It was later that night, when we were finally drifting off to sleep when I had remembered the thoughts of earlier in the day. We were sleeping outside, on her porch in sleeping bags with blankets and random bags of chips and drinks strewn along the floor. The moon was the only light that illuminated us in the shadows. As I looked around, I realized that I was the only one still awake.
Slowly, and quietly, I stood up and walked over to a rocking chair, half in the shade and half in the light of the moon. Just a few steps from the chair, I stepped on a squeaky board, causing me to jump; banging my knee into the chair which rocked against the railing, thumping lightly. I stopped, frozen to the spot for fear that someone had heard the thump and was awoken. I held my position, arms stretched out towards the chair, one leg caught in the air, taking a step. I cringed, waiting for one of the girls to roll over and see me; ask me what I was doing. That moment never came though, only Brenna snorted and rolled over again. I laughed quietly with relief as I sat down. Tucking my legs up to my chest and placing my head on my knees, I stared out at the sky.
It was a clear night, and the stars were visible; millions of them twinkling back down at me.
Even the view from her backyard is perfect, I thought to myself.
Sighing, I leaned back, out of the moon’s light and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling the overwhelming sadness and anger that usually found it’s way into my thoughts when my mind was left alone. I sat there, letting my emotions take their course silently, helplessly unable to control them.
“Blaire?”
I jumped, startled, and the rocking chair banged into the railing, yet again, a loud thump followed. Silently cursing myself, I hoped none of the other girls heard. I tried to see who had awakened and seen me, but my vision was blurred. I rubbed my eye, and felt dampness there. Quickly wiping at my eyes, I looked at my hand and sure enough, there they were: traitor tears. I leaned away from the moonlight, making sure my face was hidden along with the wet paths that my tears had undoubtedly made on my cheeks, and since my vision was cleared I could recognize Tallie, sitting up in her sleeping bag, staring at me with a look of utmost concern on her face.
Thankfully, the other girls had not been woken up by the bang from the rocking chair hitting against the railing, and it was just me and her. Feeling a wave of guilt crash through me, I suddenly wished it had been one of the other girls that had awoken to find me. With a dreading feeling in the pit of my stomach, I faced towards Tallie.
“Um, are you okay?” she asked timidly, I’m sure she was worried about how I would react, not knowing what was wrong with me, if I was hurt or if I was just being a silly teenage girl.
I let her question fill the silence for a few seconds longer, trying to come up with something somewhat believable, anything but the truth... No one could find out the truth.
Would she believe me if I said I didn’t feel good? I wondered, then deciding against it, thinking it to be too much of a childish answer. Homesickness? No, that wasn’t very believable either. Quick, you have to think of something, I told myself.
“Just had a bad dream,” I quickly blurted, knowing that as soon as the words came out of my mouth that it was a bad idea. Tallie’s look confirmed my thoughts. Seeming to not be in the mood to pry from me whatever was on my mind, Tallie’s shoulder’s slumped, a look of almost sadness sweeping across her face, and she sighed, “Alright,” before she turned over and laid back down.
Feeling worse than before I slowly slunk back down into the chair. Staring back out at the stars. I was angry with myself, why couldn’t I just tell them the truth? This answer though, was not found, for I let my anger and sadness carry my mind to sleep. Later in the morning I would recall a dream in which I was somehow running through the sky, towards the moon, but there were no stars.
. . .
It’s a curious thing; finding yourself entranced in the stars, but an even more curious thing to experience the purest of emotions under the close watch of those stars. That night, I found myself wondering if the stars could lend me some of their ancient knowledge, if they could guide me, show me what it felt like to experience something of a loss.
I thought about my parents in their room, probably snuggled tightly up under the covers, quietly whispering how much they loved each other. I thought about how my family sometimes made me feel. How no matter what, I could never escape the all mighty ‘Hale’ mark tacked onto the back of my name. But most of all, laying under the stars that night, my friends snuggled around all contentedly sleeping, I thought about Blaire and wondered if maybe, her life wasn’t all she seemed to make it be. If maybe, just maybe, she was hiding behind a secret -- a secret that only she knew.
No I didn’t think Blaire’s life was absolutely perfect, I knew there were flaws. And in that moment, I completely envied her for that. She didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t around her parents. Her life wasn’t cut out for her, I’m sure she had not even a clue what she was going to study in college, what she was going to do after life in high school. Her options. . . were endless.
In the midst of my thoughts I almost forgot I wasn’t alone. From the far corner of the porch, I heard the soft patter of feet and then a bang as if our family rocking chair had smashed into the porch railing. I turned my head slowly from my position of looking up at the stars and saw Blaire curled up in the big rocking chair looking out upon my yard. I saw her release a soft sigh.
Finally, alone time, her sigh seemed to muster. She looked deep in thought, like the time she spent away from the distractions of her life was the only time she truly had to think, the only time she truly had to be herself. I could tell something was wrong. The way she held her knees tight to her chest, in preparation for whatever thoughts crossed her troubled mind didn’t fool me one bit. Blaire was not okay.
“Um, are you okay?”, I asked Blaire softly.
Blaire looked at me and I noticed a flick of water that had gathered within the inside corner of one of her big blue eye’s sparkling under the moonlight. Just like that, when I thought she was going to share what was wrong, her sadness turned quickly into panic. She wiped her eyes, and a long silence was filled with what I was sure was the sound of Blaire’s mind working to come up with an explanation as to why I had caught her still up. In all that time, all the time she could have spent telling me what was wrong with her she just sat there coming up with the best lie that she possibly could.
“I had a bad dream”, Blaire told me. I choose not to truly acknowledge what she had said for the knowing that she had to choose when to tell me herself.
“Alright”, I said, then shrugged and laid back down to sleep, leaving her slumped in the rocker.
She will come around, I thought. If there was any of us here that she could trust with her secrets it would be me. And with that I fell asleep to the steady sounds of Blaire’s silent weeping.
. . .
Sunlight pouring on my face was what made me open my eyes and sit up, wincing as I did so due to the pain that was shooting down my neck. Rubbing it, I sat up farther and realized I was in the rocking chair, my sleeping bag discarded a few feet away on the floor. I looked around; everyone else was already up and I could hear voices wafting out through the screen door from the kitchen. I brisked a little at the fact that no one had woken me up, and then I remembered last night. Had Tallie told everyone to let me sleep because of what had happened? Had she told them all that I had cried, and over “a bad dream”? Slightly panicky, I strained my ears to pick up the voices carrying out through the screen door. Everyone was laughing. Hurt suddenly filled me. Why hadn’t Blaire woken me up? Had she not wanted me to join them because she was mad with me for not telling her anything last night?
Grunting, I pulled myself up onto my feet and stretched out my arms, my mouth open, yawning. I turned and stretched some more, taking in the view of the backyard and the fresh, vibrant blue sky. I took my time, I didn’t want to face what might be awaiting me in the kitchen. Slowly, I walked to my overnight bag resting next to my sleeping bag and pulled out my brush, continuing to brush my hair until I could feel no knots. I pulled it up in to a disheveled bun next, but, feeling that it wouldn’t make my just-woke-up appearance any better, pulled it out and brushed through my hair again.
Now I was dreading the moment of when I would walk into the kitchen and possibly discover a room full of people mad at me. Or worse, asking me questions. Putting my hand up to rub my head, I let out a disgruntled moan; I could tell that the day would not blow over well. Finally, after several nervous moments outside the kitchen door, trying to build up the courage to face the others, I pulled open the door and headed into the hall, towards the kitchen.
. . .
In the morning I remember waking up to the sound of a loud crow ca-cawing away at what must have been no more than ten feet from me. I yawned, stretched, and sat up in my warm, sleeping bag and wiped my tired eyes. As it is at every sleepover in the morning, I was overcome with the joy that all my closest friends had managed to last through the entire night without abandoning me first. But this time, something was a little different. I did a quick head count.
“One, two, three . . . where’s Blaire?”, I said quietly to myself. Looking to my left, I saw her sleeping contently folded up in the rocking chair, her face pointing directly towards the brilliant rays of sun that would later make a beautiful summer day. Then, the memories of the previous night came back to me, like newly discovered hiding places we so loved to search for. All of the emotions I had felt that night returned to me. But too, there were new ones.
One of the new emotions I felt in particular makes me uneasy to this day. For some reason I was angry. I was not only angry with Blaire and how she had chosen to abandon telling me what had been effecting her good spirit so badly but I was also angry with the fact that she could seem to be in such a deep sleep when her mind was so troubled.
In mid thought about how frustrated I was with Blaire I made myself take a deep breath and resorted to just staring at her. From my position on the porch I could see that Blaire was becoming older, as were all the rest of us. Where chubby cheeks had once resided I could see that they were being replaced by sharp lines and what would one day turn out to be beautiful cheek bones. I was lost, lost in the heaven-like beams of sunlight pouring down on Blaire. It was in that moment that we seemed miles and miles apart, like the short distance between Blaire and me on the porch was really a light-year away, growing larger with every tick-tock of my family’s ancient clock heard just inside the porch door chiming eight o’clock.
The other girls slowly woke up to the chiming of the clock. Brenna rolled over and slumped herself on top of Chelsey who made a loud, “Urrrrrrgh” sound and quickly pushed Brenna off of her, causing her to collapse heavily on the floor with a loud crashing of her limbs.
This made Nicole laugh hysterically and suddenly manage a loud snort which made all of us (well almost all of us) laugh loudly together. Our laughter slowly died down and then Nicole turned to look at Blaire and asked us a question which was mostly intended for me.
“What’s wrong with her?”, said Nicole.
Then we all looked at Blaire scrunched up in the rocking chair. I was hoping that someone would say something so that I wouldn’t have to do say anything that I didn’t want to reveal between the two of us and then, Brenna said,
“Let’s just head into the kitchen for some breakfast and let her sleep. It seems like Blaire’s been having a rough time lately.”
I was so thankful that Brenna was so talkative, she had saved me from saying something that I would probably have otherwise regretted.
Walking to the kitchen we obsessed over things that we couldn’t possibly make ourselves for breakfast and laughed about Chelsey tripping over some of the obstacles that randomly popped up in the hallway. But even though I was happy with my friends, I still had thoughts of Blaire in the back of my mind.
Finally when we had managed to reach the kitchen successfully without Chelsey breaking a leg or arm, I decided that we could make some french toast. Nicole offered herself to make it, and I went to the cupboard to grab some plates and cups for juice while she got started making what would turn out to be the last meal Blaire and I had ever eaten together.
I grabbed the OJ, which had previously been dubbed as the groups favorite drink and poured some out in four of the five glasses that I had grabbed. I set a glass and plate at each chair around the table and got Chelsey to put out some forks for all of us.
When the french toast was done, we all grabbed some and started to eat. While the other girls gobbled up their food very quickly, I took small bites, thinking about Blaire and how much she had upset me. In mid-bite, I heard the back patio door slam shut and footsteps begin to come down the hall. The rest of the girls seemed to quiet down from their laughing at Chelsey’s latest jokes and started to pick up their plates, leaving me to be left alone at the table when Blaire came in to eat her breakfast.
Before that day Blaire seemed to be nothing more than an average girl, my best friend. But after that day it was easy to see that Blaire was in my life for a reason, to show me something. And that something was pain.
. . .
“It’s about time! We thought you’d never get up,” laughed Chelsey airily, which made the others laugh and nod in agreement.
I released a silent sigh of relief. No one looked at me with pity, or for that matter, gave any indication that they knew any of my late-night conversation with Tallie.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I replied, glancing quickly at Tallie, discovering that she was looking at me too. We held eye contact for a second, and something in her eyes told me that she was angry, but I quickly looked away, feeling a warm blush creep across my face and neck.
How embarrassing, I thought, quickly searching for something to distract myself from the fact that I could still feel Tallie’s eyes watching me. The other girls were already eating, so I grabbed a plate and helped myself to some french toast and fruit. I started eating right away, and it wasn’t until I felt her gaze shift off me that I slowed down. Chelsey and Brenna were starting to get done with their breakfast, and were now heading back outside to sit on the porch. I noticed that Tallie was still eating too, and as finally Nicole -- who had been entertaining us with the singing of her new favorite song -- walked out to the porch I sadly was left in the kitchen with just Tallie.
There was an awkward moment of silence in which only the scraping of our forks against our plates could be heard.
“You can tell me, you know,” Tallie broke the silence. Her voice was soft, but I could hear hurt hiding within it.
I didn’t say anything for a minute, then shaking my head, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” she stated calmly.
“You don’t get it. I mean, you wouldn’t understand,” I burst out, suddenly angered by her calmness.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she shot back, her voice rising with mine.
“Oh please, you, here, in this perfect family all living in this perfect house. You wouldn’t know the first thing about anything hard!” Now I was fuming. She couldn’t possibly understand my feelings.
Another long silence followed, but finally, even quieter than before she said, “Can’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you Tallie, but-- but this is something different!” I exclaimed, exasperated at how she just couldn’t let me be.
“I may not understand now, but if you told--”
I was shouting now, “See you don’t get it, you could never understand! Look around, Tallie, we couldn’t be more different!”
She stared at me, shocked. There was nothing hiding the hurt in her eyes now, and I knew that I had hit a nerve. Her mouth opened as if to speak a few times, but no words seemed to come out. Then so softly I barely heard her she said, “I thought we were best friends? I thought we told each other everything.”
I couldn’t take this anymore. Who did she think she was, trying to get into my personal life? Why couldn’t she just have rolled over last night instead of getting us into this mess?
A small voice in my head told me, because she cares. Because she is your best friend... I ignored it though, anger now coursing through my body.
Shoving my chair back as I stood up, “Well, maybe you thought wrong.” Then I left her there at the table, her eyes wide and filled with a shock so deep, I almost turned and told her I was sorry, almost begged her to forgive me. Almost.
Storming out of the kitchen, I didn’t even glance at the other girls as I grabbed my sleeping bag and started rolling it up into a ball in my arms.. Silence had fallen over the porch when the screen door had banged against it’s frame, and everyone was staring at me. I didn’t care though, I only wanted to get away from this house, and it’s occupants; as far away as possible.. . .
When Blaire entered the kitchen Chelsey shouted from her position over the sink,
“It’s about time! We thought You’d never get up!” This made the rest of us laugh.
Through our excitement, I had almost forgotten how Blaire had been making me feel until she looked at me, just sitting at the table. I looked into her eyes and realized how much of an intense stare I must have been giving her since she quickly looked away and walked over to the stove to grab some french toast and pour herself some juice.
As Blaire was sitting down to eat her breakfast, the rest of the girls piled out of the kitchen and headed back to the porch. I waited a few minutes to let the awkward silence just fill the air then said, very calmly,
“You can tell me, you know.”
In that instant something inside Blaire seemed to snap, and her eyes were suddenly filled with anger and hatred directed towards me. She threw down her fork and stood up, in means to step away from me. Maybe in fear that she should come too close to my face, or maybe just in fear that I would come too close to hers.
“You wouldn’t even understand,”, she said shaking her head back and forth.
“Try me,” I shot back, still in my calm voice.
The tone of my voice must have annoyed her because right then is when Blaire became totally angry.
“You don’t get it. I mean you wouldn’t understand it.”, she fired back to me.
This made me think there was something wrong with me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked her, getting incredibly irritated with her yelling. Why couldn’t she ever just stay calm?
“Um, please,” Blaire said, “you, here, in this perfect house. You don’t know the first thing about anything hard!”
I filled another long silence with my thinking of how I knew enough about hard times to know that she was going through one. Then I thought about how much faith Blaire had lost in me, just in a couple of short weeks.
“Can’t you trust me?” I asked quietly. So quietly, that I’m sure Blaire had to strain her ears to hear it.
“Of course I trust you Tallie, but --,” she stuttered then, barely leaving any time for herself to catch a breath “. . . but this is different.”, she finished.
I was so fed up with her now. How could she even have called me her friend when she couldn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on in her life. I told her everything, and I don’t mean just some things that normal friends would know about a person. I mean I told her absolutely everything. She was the only person I could trust to keep my deepest of secrets.
“Of course I trust you Tallie, but --,” she stuttered then, barely leaving any time for herself to catch a breath “. . . but this is different.”, she finished.
I was so fed up with her now. How could she even have called me her friend when she couldn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on in her life. I told her everything, and I don’t mean just some things that normal friends would know about a person. I mean I told her absolutely everything. She was the only person I could trust to keep my deepest of secrets.
All we did after that was go on to yell at each other about our differences, I don’t even remember most of the things she said to me, just that she thought of us as two completely opposite people who had somehow managed to be friends. I wondered out loud to her how I thought we were best friends, how I thought we told each other everything but the words that are still etched in the back of my mind were five words that broke my heart on the spot,
“Well maybe you thought wrong!”, Blaire yelled at me, stepping even farther back into the kitchen.
I was completely stricken with sadness, it felt as if all the happiness had suddenly been washed away from my world.
As she turned her back on me, I saw Blaire hesitate as if she was going to turn to say something else. That small hesitation is one of the things from that fight that I remember most clearly. In the seconds that it took for her to figure out weather she would keep walking or turn around to say something else, I knew that the distance she left between us would be the hardest thing I would ever have to deal with in my life. Just like that, Blaire, my closest friend was gone and I could do nothing but sit in the same spot stupidly. At that time, I had not a clue if I would ever see her again. And with that thought, and the pain of her powerful last words, my eyes started to tear up.
. . .
No comments:
Post a Comment