ethosa

It was just about time.

"Hey, Dad, I'm heading out now, I'll be back in a couple hours or something." I leaned over the banister outside his room and waited for his reply.

"Where you going?" I saw him sit up from his bed.

"To the park."

"Which one?"

"The one behind the house." I started down the stairs.

"What for!" he called from the top of the staircase.

"To watch the Perseids! Remember, I watched them a few years ago, too. I'll be back later." I told my grandparents in the living room I'd be back later and made a getaway through the front door. At the base of the stairs outside I heard the door unlock again but didn't look back and kept walking forward.

I gazed up to the moon, thinking back on that article I read some weeks ago on the supermoon, and how it would obstruct one's view of the Perseids. And just as the article said, even though it was the night after the supermoon's appearance, it was quite bright. Clouds were gathered in the sky around the moon and I could see the small moonbow around it.

The night was not chilly. I wore a pair of black cotton leggings, an oversized strawberry patterned tanktop, a rainbow striped longsleeve, and the winter jacket Gran had bought me two years before. Tucked under my arm was a throw blanket with a teddybear pattern on it.

I had walked a few blocks and entered the alley leading up to the park when my phone went off.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" It was my dad.

"At Burrard view park."

"Where?"

I sighed. Please pay attention, Dad.

"Burrard view. The one behind our house. The one where, when I was little, we would visit and toss our shoes off from the swings?"

"Oh, that one?"

"Yeah, why? Are you coming?"

In the distance I heard a vehicle and saw him drive through the small alleyway on one side of the park. We both hung up and I watched him and his girlfriend make their way over to the blanket I had laid out. They each took a spot on the blanket and the three of us laid down on it with our eyes to the sky.

The night was bright with the waning supermoon still hover high above us. My fear of not seeing the Perseids was coming true. Dad brought out his iphone and started playing some music while playing a social game.

For a long time the three of us laid there looking at the sky. Dad looked up constellations with a special phone app. And then he suddenly jumped up and said, "Spider, spider! I just saw a giant one. Get up. We're leaving." I asked him about the spider but he gave only vague answers and couldn't even determine the size.

The three of us climbed into the two front seats of Dad's van and went for a cruise to a Tim Hortons in Burnaby. I got a French vanilla coffee and strawberry muffin while dad's girlfriend got a blueberry muffin.

A police car had pulled up and we loitered around the van until the cops went inside Timmies. We crammed inside the van again and headed for a 7-11 near our house for late night snacks.

Being almost 3am, Dad bargained the leftover food for a cheap price and we also got a deal on some chips and a coffee. By the time we made it home it was 3 30AM.

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Author's Note
no proofing.
written in a few hours after described event, but finished just now.
the supermoon it describes was the "morning" of August 13th.
what happened here is true, though briefly described.
I just wanted to finish it and get it out here zzz

wordcount: 589

(originally written two years ago)
wordcount: 774

Everything around me seemed to melt away, like rain on a watercolor painting, all the colors slowly running down the drain. Objects, once so clear as to what they were, suddenly became blurs of color as they cascaded downward like there was no floor. My hand gripped the suitcase tighter to make sure it wasn’t melting, and neither was I. Uncle sure made great improvements on the machine during the past week, I thought it was amazing. He was so capable, and at that moment I wondered what else he could do. With me.

When the old world dropped around me from the sky’s blank face, with its familiar and comforting arms I’ve been yearning for the past week, I half expected everyone to be there when I arrived. But when I opened the door to only Uncle and Nicholas’ meager and somewhat unkempt faces I suddenly became enraged. Why wasn’t Edgar here? Did he really find someone new in only the week we’ve been apart? But, I was no better. I’d known him for only three weeks.

"Where’s Edgar?" I asked but I could barely hear my own words, I wondered if they could. I repeated myself, louder, but Uncle shrugged, Nicholas looked unsettled. The question was directed more to Uncle, but Nicholas answered:

"He’s in his room." His words were sad, like he was ashamed. Why would Nicholas be ashamed? Why would Edgar be in his room? Edgar should be here to welcome me back. He heard about my coming back and living here, right? "He’s been depressed this past week. Hardly goes to class; hasn’t eaten much for three days, already; doesn’t talk more than he needs to. It’s as if he’s gone deaf to the world. Alone with his textbooks."

All of a sudden a whole swath of emotions fell into me. I was worried if he was all right, angry he wasn’t there. I was frustrated with his, what seemed like, lack of a driving will. As if he didn’t care about anything anymore and it pissed me off.

Before either of the men in front of me could stop me I dropped my suitcase and ran. My feet, fueled by anger and disappointment, flew me to the third floor and stopped right in front of Edgar’s room. I took a few seconds of breath to calm myself before I opened the door and barged in.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed. He was reading a book and looked incredibly depressed. What had happened to him? What could have possibly made him into this mess? Even the floor was filthy with clothes and books and stationary. I was only gone for a week and this is what happened? Or was his room always like this?

He looked up from his book to my face. It didn’t feel like he was actually looking at me. His eyes had huge bags under them and the room’s lighting was poor.

I took long, angry strides to him as he dropped his book onto the hardwood floor and stood. I looked up at him with an angry face, our bodies only a foot apart. His face was unshaven and his hair was a mess, a shaggy and wild greasy blonde.

The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was about to say something. I panicked and covered his mouth with my hand. I don’t want him to say anything. I don’t want anything to be said. Words just turn to stone.

I look into his eyes and he stares into mine. I want to know why he’s been like this, why he’s been so depressed and lone-looking. I stare into his eyes almost desperately, looking for the answers in them, hoping he could hear my silent but humble questions. It’s so strange, so out of character for him.

My hand slowly moved away from his mouth and to his jawline, under his ears. My movements were tiny and gentle as if I were petting a newborn kitten. My mind paid no attention to my heart until now, when I found it beating madly for this distraught and lonesome man. What was going on? What do I want? After a week of missing this man, wanting to hold me so carefully in his arms, do I finally know what I want?

I slowly lean up to his face, closer toward his lips. A flicker of understanding went through his eyes and like a spark to a fire he quickly came to life. His face didn’t show it but his eyes did and he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.