All That Glitters

Monday mornings specifically creeped up like a hunter on its prey, bellowing in rage only when it was too late to run. However, every morning of this week seemed to be the same. It even smelled the same. When you get used to carrying melancholia in your heart, it starts wafting out as a stale stench, as a form of slow poison hanging in the air. And so every morning was infused with the indelible bitterness left by a goodbye on the tongue.

The whole week presence of his other daughter at breakfast had seemed to place a pressure on dad's shoulders. The incipient relation, mending of broken ties, everything was on its way. It was alright to me, because what only mattered was that over the time dad started looking better while moving around the kitchen in his old gray apron. His eyes didn't look like an overcast sky anymore, instead they were gradually diluting to azure; filling with light the kind I'd come to love.

However, Hope looked like . . . Hope. I believe she used to be warm once; when she and I used to build sandcastles in the school playground for our seemingly everlasting empires and mom was still alive and dad didn't have to pretend to be happy. But now, now she was just sad, turned cold and dark by the remnants of winter and tragedy in the air.

And I wasn't sure if it was just her visceral fear of change that was keeping her from reaching out for the sun.

For the last time this week I turned toward Hasting Street to pick up Maddison. Not knowing when she would be able to drive again after running into a stop sign that caused minimum damage, I was to be her temporary driver. Other cars and people swooshed by in colorful blobs as the rain slithered down the glass, encouraging a grotesque gloom; as if Mother Nature was lamenting as well.

Dad once emphasised that a friend was someone I could count on. Perhaps I was being silly, or perhaps I knew better when I told him that we could count on bad weather too— always imminent.

•••

Because of one of her many requests that dad had obliged to, Hope always took the bus to school. She remained isolated on the first day, and the situation didn't improve as the days progressed. Whether it was the three classes I had with her or at lunch, I always saw her alone. She didn't associate with people and her aura and hard stare kept them from associating with her too.

But the students here tended to feed on other's business like leeches; forcing their noses where they weren't required. And so I saw surprise coruscating in many pairs of eyes as they questioned me 'really?' and the reason as to why it seemed hard to believe that Hope was my twin sister escaped me.

With the bell signalling the end of the final lesson of the day everybody rushed out of class. It were times like these that I dreaded the most; when the cacophony of deafening chatter drowned out the sighs of relief and happy faces were blurred by the imminent return of the time. It was almost always impossible for me to find Maddison amidst this chaos, and now I had another face to look for too.

I found Hope leaning against her locker, overwhelmed as if struggling to take everything in. Despite everything that took place, I still had to remind myself that this was all still very much new to her, and that I was in no place to judge. When I walked up to her, her dull eyes like pale sapphires widened just the slightest. They seemed familiar, but then not so much.

Dad was right when he told me that it was Hope who got his eyes.

"Are you still taking the bus?"

She regarded me with uncertainty shadowing her features. I didn't blame her, for I'd let a whole week pass without uttering so much as a greeting to her in these swallowing hallways of school. Concentrating hard on her face, I noticed the amount of effort it was taking her to cover all those sad marks; a kind of lingering hole that sucks all the light and shatters the heart.

"Yeah, why?" she inquired in an unusually coarse voice, something that didn't sound like Hope at all, and I knew she hadn't spoken much in the day. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, as if trying hard to repress the fragments of her inner self.

"Dad told me to drive you home today."

And like a salt crystal that Hope was in a stream, ready to be carried away by the currents, I had already lost her. Her attention became focused on something else behind me, and I found as I turned around that it was rather someone who'd gained her interest.

There was a whiff of a fragrance, of spearmint and honey and a whisper of a blooming friendship—something that's so pure—as the three subjects walked past us and toward the open, welcoming doors of the exit. They barely noticed as some people regarded them with awe, some with poorly concealed envy, and a few, like Hope, with curiosity. Not immediate want or desire or jealousy—just plain curiosity.

And I don't know why it caused a loud thud in my heart.

"Hope?" I asked in a raised voice, attempting to gain her attention as well as subdue the feeling that rose so suddenly within me. Stretching my arm I placed a gentle hand on her forearm so that her gaze instantly flickered to me, her mouth painted in the palest of reds slightly parted. And then she recoiled away from me.

"What?" she hissed, her tone jabbing at my heart, hurting me. "Oh no, I'll be perfectly fine."

With not so much as a single glance backwards she rushed out, as if being near me disgusted her. Somewhere inside my head I could hear dad's consoling voice, the echo of his words that he'd said to me just yesterday. He told me that it was supposed to be hard, mending people. That it was going to take time and patience.

I didn't know it was supposed to hurt as well.

Notes

Jeez I can't believe it's been so long! I've been so busy but hopefully once school finishes I'll be able to post more :) I love hearing your thoughts so please let me know what you think about the recent update. And in the next one I shall introduce Harry finally! Until then, take care :) x