Saturday, 4 September 2010

Papercut. Chapter 2.

My sightseeing didn’t last long as I soon felt the taxi make a sudden stop. I stared at the silent taxi driver, who ended up smiling at my confused expression. What did he mean by the sudden stop? I couldn’t grasp the meaning behind the face. It felt as if it were a mask, something bursting on the outside, but the inside ready to be filled by all volunteers. I looked at the house which was… my new home? Indeed it was. It had the right and exact numbers carved on the side. I had reached my destination and it was coming to me. I walked outside, feeling a light chill run through my body, but then I felt a wave of excitement hit me afterwards before a final wave of worry took over. This was it. Here I was. I kept looking at the taxi cab driving away, like a reminder that the memories I held back from my home town were now past. I had a new canvas now, a new home for the next several years and hopefully for the rest of my life. So all I had to do now, the hard part was to go on and make a step forward. A step I dreamed about.


It seemed quiet. The thing is it wasn’t my imagination. It really was. I bet if you’d drop a pin you’d hear it echo throughout the street which was now my own. I inhaled and walked on, slowly, imagining me turning the key and opening the door.

It was early morning. Of course it was quiet. My thoughts were all mixed up, as I couldn’t swallow as if I had something stuck in my throat. I looked up and down looking at the house which I would now live in. It was identical to the rest of the houses on the street so there was no need to admire every single one.

I began ruffling my pockets in the search of keys. Where were they?

Only now there was no need.

No, it wasn’t like a horror movie, the door didn’t not creek open in slow motion exposing some blood-thirsty monster about to pounce on me.

“Oh, hey, you must be… Roman.” She said leaning against the door frame, trying to look relaxed and all that jazz. She seemed to talk in pauses, blowing her cover, but then who could blame her? This was our first ever meeting after all, not counting the internet. No, I do not date her. I just needed a room mate and with a little help from friends and family, voilà!

Her dyed scarlet red hair stuck around in different directions. No, it wasn’t her bad hair day. To her a bad hair day would be when it looked all neat and straight from the hair salon. The red was a heavy contrast to her light blue eyes, which I seemed to use really frequently in my paintings.

But the thing which really caught my eye was her height. Yes, me, being short, caused me to look at the height a lot.

Kayleen, the girl’s name was a good several centimetres shorter than me, which seemed to calm down my ego with the fact that I had to tilt my head as I talked to her unlike I usually did, so high up that my neck ached horribly afterwards and sometimes the question of my height was truly traumatic.

What about now?

What do I do now?

Who do I know?

What do I know?

Nobody asides from the red headed girl. Dyed red head girl.

Even her appearance seemed unreal, as if she’d have horns or nineteen fingers. Everything seemed abstract, as if it were a lucid postcard with people smiling; only here there were no people with classic appearance and forks. All was still. For a while.

She waited for an answer, as she kept on biting her fingernail in the process. I walked on, thinking of the crumbled white page, should I start a conversation or rather wave and walk upstairs and unpack? Everything seemed to cloud up my mind, never clearing up for the blue day.

I nod.

Like a doll.

No more a marionette on emotions, glimpses of possibilities.

I grasped them.

Letting them play.

Even I truly believe that my nod looked really unnatural. But then, I was nervous. I was just defending myself, but I just finished school, did I not?

A kid.

“Um…” I paused, sitting down on the floor after dropping my messenger bag on the floor. I felt comfortable now, I don’t know why. Maybe because I liked sitting on the floor, grass, whatever no matter was I sketching or not. Strangely enough, that seemed to give me courage and isn’t that what I was clearly lacking? “I’m Roman. You’re Kayleen, right? Nice to meet you.”

I was talking in pauses as well, a weak parody, which was never enough, not to mention I kept nodding nearly after every single word. I was just as dumb looking as she was now. But I really didn’t accuse her because of being that worried. I admit that wasn’t all that relaxed myself. But then it was clearly seen from both of us.

I kick off my dark blue Converses and she watches me carefully like I was a terrorist. By now I should really be used to it, since I was in the airport today… or was it yesterday? These two past days were a big fat day for me and the second half was just about to begin. And this was the awaited half, it was the second half, the half after the problems. The new start, the new city, the new life. It was the day after the break-up which usually ended up being too damn problematic only today it wouldn’t be, I was sure of it.

Then I looked at her feet. I couldn’t help but feel lighter. Go on, call me a Converse addict. The girl herself was wearing a pair of classical black ones, which in my opinion matched perfectly her attire. Today’s pick was a pair of short denim shorts and a white tank top. I guess I really looked odd compared to her in my, already mentioned, wool sweater, scarf, jeans and well, aside my beloved Converse. She seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth several times and then closing before opening it again. In the end she chewed on her finger a bit more picking up the remaining pieces of courage.

“So…” Then I paused realizing that I had no topic myself. What should I say? Then she let her hand down and waited for a while in case I had something to say. Instead I shook my head indicating that she could speak.

“So we both have locks on our bedrooms. Just in case.” Her last sentence seemed more like a question as if she wasn’t sure, as if I could be offended by that action of hers. But then why should I? I mean, I like privacy myself, surely I’m not that sure that I shall use that lock, but still. Kayleen then put her hands in her pockets, trying to look casual. In reality she looked the opposite, but it was seen that she was trying hard and all. It wasn’t just the fact that she wasn’t sure in the locks were a good idea, but everything in general seemed to make her feel uncomfortable as if all she wanted to was go under her bed, shut her door and relax.

She took a steak of her red hair and began playing with it. I didn’t blame her, I looked as stupid as she did with a desire to pull over another wool shirt and any other way to make me feel warm. She was my age, she just came yesterday and we both were having our first day in University tomorrow, it was banal, it was canon, our parents were frightened as well, everybody was afraid of doing that step to adulthood.

Maybe some were doing it to be polite enough through the pats on the backs, long messages in yearbooks or plain suggestions on wishing.

“Look and try to keep it down after I go to bed and the same will apply for me. Party’s off as soon as one of us goes to bed. Deal?” Maybe she had a rough past with a partying room mate, maybe she was in boarding school? Or simply summer camp? Or school trip? Her look clearly hinted that she wasn’t relaxed when she was telling this, maybe she thought that she looked bossy but she didn’t. Kayleen kept on telling rules which were amazingly useless but the endless popping once in a while ‘ums’ clearly hinted that she was just saying them because well, maybe it would ease her a bit in case I’d really start partying and storm into her room in my boxers while doing some insane dare or something like that.

Could I go around in my boxers? Not that I loved walking around in my boxers or anything, but still the question got stuck in my head, but I didn’t bother to say it out loud. I mean even if I’d feel like it I guess I’d live without walking around in my boxers.

Well, I guess it really helped her ease a bit, by rambling out the rules. I mean I saw her looking up with her light blue eyes into the ceiling but in reality she was off looking into this abyss, ruffling through the speeches she prepared once she’d see me.

She looked cute.

The though hit me like thunder. Did she? I felt myself go embarrassed for a second, the blush getting out, and coloured by a child’s crayon. Thankfully, I could see her saying the rules which now I did not hear. Yes, she is cute, I thought calming myself. Then she looked down, us making eye connection for the first time. Well, not really, I guess, but now I actually was realizing it which was different from before. I was expecting it. I couldn’t help but smile like all those stupid stories, cartoons, movies with the main characters smiling at each other before becoming friends… or lovers. Ok, I’ve officially become insane. But that didn’t me from smiling at her, as I waited for her to return that dumb smile of mine.

But the fact remained as the fact.

She looked really cute.

Chapter 3

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