Chapter 17
1080 Words
Tuesday.
Luke…
It’s Tuesday and she’s not here again. I’m even beginning to think that she moved away.
A sigh.
My life is quite typical…
When I wish for things to stay, they get washed away. Carried away by the currents of the sea. When I don’t want them, the waves carry them back to me. I must have hope. She is my hope.
“Haai jy”
She covers the sun, completely impersonating an eclipse. That is exactly what she is.
An eclipse…
A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes🎶
I screamed aloud as it tore through them
And now it’s left me blind🎶
The stars, the moon
They have all been blown out🎶
You’ve left me in the dark
No dawn, no day🎶
I’m always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart🎶
It’s funny because her name is Blue.
I think I once read somewhere that most stars are blue. I’m not quite sure.
But what I’m sure about is that she doesn’t embody brightness or joy. She is pure darkness. I can feel myself becoming angry. My lungs are taking in more air and quickly releasing it. The only thing that is helpful in keeping me calm is singing along to the lyrics in my head. Another thing is thinking about her, but that isn’t going to be much help if she has already left.
“Ek praat met jou”
Her voice isn’t sweet. It’s dreadfully demanding and trying too hard to be cute. It’s like she’s being forced to behave like a toddler.
“Ja, Blou, hoe gaan dit met jou?” My own voice is strained.
I say her name in Afrikaans because the English one is reserved for my mother. I used to call her that when I was a child. I used to say her name should be Blue because her eyes are blue.
A chuckle.
The nostalgia from childhood memories is the best.
Well on the other hand Blou hates her Afrikaans name, but she thinks it’s cute when I call her by it because we’re both destined to be together for all eternity. If there was anything in my stomach right now, I would just throw it all up.
“Ek is oukei, maar jy lyk so ver weg.”
She is concerned. I’m not so present alright, or rather I’m not acknowledging her presence.
“Ja, almal weet alles van my af, behalwe ek” I say beneath my breath.
“Wat was dit”
Oh, the princess demands attention.
She must be seen.
She must be heard and most importantly she must be felt.
Even though she gives nothing at all.
“Niks” I look at her and the scowl is replaced by a cheerful smile.
I scoff.
Attention seeker!
Does she have ADHD or something?
“Wat is fout met jou?”
I’m quite sure that this inquiry has been triggered by the fact that my thoughts appear as they are on my face. Each thought with its own gradient.
“Goed dan. Ek het gedink ons kan mekaar leer ken, jy weet voor die groot dag.”
She sits on my lap and she’s heavier than the lump in my throat.
“Ek ken jou al my hele lewe lank. Ons is bure.”
I’m sure to be intently and painfully impassive.
“Ja, ek weet, maar ons ken mekaar net as bure. Ek is so bly dat ek en Ficelle susters gaan wees. Ons het oor die jare uitmekaar gegroei en nou is dit vir ‘n majestueuse hereniging.”
She drones on and on, until I eventually blur her out. It takes a while for me to realise that she’s waiting for my reply.
“Dis ‘Ficelle en ek’. In elk geval, glo my, Ficelle is nie so opgewonde soos jy nie. Julle het vir ‘n rede uitmekaar gegroei.”
“Hoekom is jy so negatief?” She punches my chest playfully and I find myself wishing she would hit me harder just so she can feel the pain too. “Dit is ‘n kans vir ons almal om te herstel wat gebreek is”
“Wie het dit in die eerste plek gebreek?”
“Kom nou Luke, ons trou binnekort. Hoekom is jy so?”
“Ek weet.”
“Wel, jy tree nie so op nie”
She is genuinely annoyed. The only time she shows any kind of genuine emotion is when things aren’t or are going her way.
Selfish through and through.
“Wel, ek weet nie, Blou. Hoe tree ‘n verloofde persoon op?!”
“Hy tree op asof hy wil trou.”
“Kyk na my!”
She’s standing in front of me, as she was earlier. But now her hands are folded across her chest and she’s upset. I can only see half of her face as she is looking away but the traces of red remind of my dad when he’s angry.
She is quite beautiful, but in my eyes nothing makes her pretty. Not the blonde silky strands that hang beautifully from the roots attached to her head.
Not her eyes.
Not her clear skin, or nice and clean hands. Not her sexy long legs.
She’s just any other girl.
“Kyk na my!”
She finally looks at me.
“Lyk ek soos iemand wat wil trou?”
The question hits her like a tidal wave but she fights hard to keep the same posture and the same resolve.
“Wel, jy het nie nou veel van ‘n keuse nie, nè?”
She breathes out angrily.
“Ek doen nie. Ek doen nooit nie.”
I allow myself to become consumed.
Half of me hopes to die and the other half hopes to discourage Blou. She’s selfish and self entitled, surely she will think it’s too much to handle a broken man. Then my father will be convinced, then I’ll be allowed to do whatever I want.
“Wat het jy aan hom gedoen?”
Blou’s body gets pushed away and a pill gets shoved into my mouth. The last thing I remember is Ficelle’s shaky voice comforting me and the harsh truth is that I wish it was her.
Michaela.
Her gentle yet fiery gaze is all that is on my mind. If she’s the last thing I see before I die, I’ll surely die as a happy man.
- Writer
