Mar. 29th, 2009

[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
That same evening...

I've been sitting out in the parking lot for a little while, just thinking. Tez said he chooses me. I should be happy at that, should I not? Part of me feels a fierce, possessive kind of happiness that he looked back at Syl, and found that she was not what he wanted. But that is what he said then; tomorrow he may feel differently. I find it difficult to trust Tez's feelings, and that troubles me. How much happiness can I ever expect if I am always doubting his heart? And why is it that I have never been able to rely on anyone I loved? Even Lily, in the end, let me down, although I am hoping that we are rebuilding our relationship. But it seems like everyone ends up alone, in the end.

I notice people starting to come out of the front door. Surely the show isn't over already? But a few people are coming out, talking loudly about "disgraceful" behaviour and "lewd" conduct. And oh, look, there is my father, who has given up on the entertainment for the evening. He comes over. Of course, he does not talk to me about my act, not precisely. He simply narrows his eyes and draws his lips thin. Apparently there was some "shocking dance act" by a "scrawny dark girl" - I am guessing that might be Syl. I almost feel fond of her in this moment, seeing how angry my father looks. Then he starts going on about how I might be better off at St Jude's where Adam goes, since clearly Excolo High is in moral and social collapse. Like fuck I'm going there. Even if I would look dashing in the uniform. He says we'll talk about it when I come over on Sunday for lunch. That is not a request. He doesn't hug me goodbye. My stepmother embraces me briefly, hands barely touching my arms, her mouth grazing my cheekbone. She feels as brittle and cold as glass, and she does not meet my eyes.

I get back in the car and wait. For what, I am not sure. Hopefully it won't take too long for whatever the hell has gone on is smoothed out, the show is over, and we can all get to Lily's and drinking and oblivion, or as close to it as whisky and silk sheets can offer. I don't think I'll be going home tonight. I can always crash at Lily's; there are so many opulently impersonal guest rooms, and that tonight has some sort of appeal.

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