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“But you can just fall in love? You’re supposed to love each other,” I point out, making my way towards her. I grab her hand and stare up at her. I’m almost as tall as her, but that’s because my mum is tiny and I’m tall for my age.
Her brown hair reaches her jawline. She got it cut yesterday, and it looks just the same as before. Her grey eyes stare at me with a certain look. She’s going to disappoint me, and I swallow, bracing myself for her answer.Please don’t disappoint me.
“No, Chester. I can’t.”
“Why not?” I throw up my hands with anger pushing through me. I stomp away from her to the other side of the kitchen. But, deep down, I’m panicking. What does this mean? Will they get a divorce? No, that’s not possible. Mum is lying. She loves him. She must. There’s no other way. But secretly, I know the truth already, and it hurts so much.
“We’re just too different,” she says with a sad smile on her lips.
“But…”
“I don’t think this is a conversation I should be having with you, Chester. Maybe we can talk about it when you’re a bit older.”
“But you must have loved him in the beginning?” I ignore her wishes. My mind is showing me what our life will look like after this conversation. It doesn’t look great. I see them leaving. I don’t want them to leave. I want us to stay together and just love. Maybe if they fall in love, the fighting will stop.
“I…” She stutters and fumbles with the pages of her book.
“Mum?”
“I’m sorry, Chester. I’ve never really loved him.”
“What?” I say, stunned. “That’s impossible.” I shake my head, trying to understand her, but I can’t. The only thing I feel is pain. So much pain.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” My lower lip starts to tremble. This news is heartbreaking. They’re supposed to love each other. That’s how it works. I stare at my mum with tears filling my eyes.
“Why did you get married, then?” Her sad smile tells me she’s not going to answer my question. Instead, she walks towards me and pulls me to her. I hug her tightly and let my tears run free. Her hands caress my back softly.
But still, my question echoes through my brain. I need to know, but at least I’ve learnt something new today. People who are married don’t necessarily love each other. So what’s the point of marriage?
“You,” a loud voice says from behind me, and it snaps me out of my memory. I spin around quickly, coming face-to-face,yetagain, with my new neighbour.
My tired muscles from my long run stiffen and are pumped full of newfound energy, but my mind is still stuck on that tiresome memory. Normally, I run to escape my thoughts, but this one just pushed into my head and it didn’t disappear until now.
I shake my head, getting rid of the last of it, and I look at Evangeline. Her eyebrows are already dipped low and ready for battle.
“Good morning,” I say, taking a step back because those eyes are bursting with fire, ready to burn me alive.
“I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘good morning’ exactly,” she says, raising her eyebrows before popping out her hip and dropping her hand on her waist. Evangeline purses her lips and a deep sigh comes from her. She definitely hasn’t forgotten the things I said to her last time we saw each other.
“I see you’re not the forgiving kind.”
“I didn’t hear an apology,” she states, shrugging her shoulders, and even though she isn’t my first choice to interact with in the morning, I do feel a small smile forming on my face.
She’s witty and keeps me on my toes. A burst of energy floods through me because she has proven repeatedly that conversations with her are like a battle, and my competitive spirit likes it, thrives on it, even if the last one didn’t end so well.
“An apology… first, I think you need to convince me more on why you’re so different from that asshat that lives in your house,” I say, taking in her outfit. A soft yellow sundress that sparkles under the morning sun. Small white flowers are scattered all over it. She’s wearing white sneakers, and her hair is up in a high ponytail.
She looks cute, girly and innocent, even though that mouth of hers can disarm anyone because a strong character is being housed inside her body.
“Would you call me ‘an asshat’?” she asks, and I frown because I don’t understand what she’s getting at.
“No. Of course not.” I shake my head, still trying to figure out why she would ask such a thing.
“Well, then I assume you don’t compare me to my brother entirely or else you wouldn’t mind using that word to describe me.”
Oh shit.
“Good one,” I mutter, nodding my head, impressed.
