She would read out loud, reciting the words to a book I've never heard of. I found it odd how easily she could read a book at the top of her lungs if she wanted to, yet, never say a word to me. I've become invisible to her and that wasn't just my imagination, but my reality. It was the fear that I felt when my father told me she was coming, I felt it all over again. The deafening silence—quiet and somehow still loud as if she was trying to tell me something and I just wasn't listening. Although, it wasn't her who was trying to tell me something, it was me trying to tell her. Every time she stepped out of the bedroom, I was desperate to tell her, look at me, more than desperate. I've said it to her before, she didn't hear—and neither did I.
It was another day she spoke with my father rather than me, and at times she would glance my way. I knew because I would stare at her, figuring out as to why I would. A look I had tried to decipher but failed to do so because of how quickly she looked away. Soft-spoken with every word that came out of her mouth, her fingers twisting around the tips of her hair. She left not only once, but more than twice, and I watched her from my window, morning after morning getting coffee. What had I done to deserve this treatment? To be left alone and given the punishment of silence for a reason I still have yet to find out. Yes, silence was the worse punishment. Communication would solely be between our eyes as our lips were kept shut. Although, behind those shut lips were words that wanted to be heard—needed to be.
And to think, I would be liking her soon, falling into an unexpected friendship that would be nurtured by the both of us. To think that my bitterness would have dispersed into thin air without a trace to be found, but no, it was there floating in front of my eyes and waiting for me to breathe it in again as I watched her. With each thought that circled my mind, I became more curious. Perhaps, this was just the start of things—start off as strangers, become acquaintances, become strangers, then become friends. Friends. My thoughts contradicted this word, friends, in more ways than one.
Within these three days of silence between us, I found an attraction to her. I hid it, there was nothing else I could do besides hide it. Stuck balancing on the thin line between love and hate, but there was no love. There was only attraction, and from I was always told, attraction drains away. And if it drained away, would I regret not taking the chance I had to let it flood my body? Would I be happy? I was too afraid to find out.
The fingertips that grazed mine when we reached for the same item in the kitchen, the sound of our forks hitting against the plates as we ate in silence, the looks we'd give one another that said everything and nothing at once. The faint sound of the shower that made me question if I should attempt at what I was desperate to do.
I didn't stop myself; I didn't think twice. I looked and looked at her moving silhouette, listening to her quiet singing underneath the pouring water of her shower. Her hands slipping from her hair and moving to the rest of her body slowly. I should leave, I thought. But, the more and more I stood at the door frame, I was coming to a realization that I didn't want to leave. It was a sight that would now be embedded into my mind and when I would close my eyes, I would think of it. And as I watched her, I thought about us talking again, would we return to where we were a few days ago?
*
I thought about my mother's words. Get to know her, Anna. I wished she knew how difficult it was to do that. It was impossible to get to know someone when all they do is walk past you in silence, ask anyone and they'd tell you the same. This white wall was just like Olivia, watching me as my day went on. The only difference was that this white wall didn't have an option to talk, it was only to be built and keep me privacy. And as I watched this white wall, I thought of her and wished she was nothing like this white wall. I wanted her to invade my privacy and never stay quiet around me, never give me the option to stay quiet.
"Would you like to join me in going to the farmer's market?" I turned my gaze to her in the kitchen and walked my way over. It was more words than one that I had said, more than we had exchanged these past couple of days. I had already slipped into my sundress this morning as she went on her walk to my mother's café, if she didn't want to come, I'd be by myself and getting dressed would have been all for nothing.
She looked up at me from her empty cup of coffee and doodled piece of notebook paper, the one she had bought earlier this morning. I supposed my father was giving her free coffee, I would find out. Her pink, bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded and grabbed her white ribbon off the counter, tying it around her ponytail. "Let's go, shall we?" From a white wall to a sudden friend she switched, catching me by surprise as she walked out of the small apartment.
I was distracted as I locked the door, the heat from her closeness radiating between us. I was afraid that if I said anything she would move, and that was far from what I wanted to happen. I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't thought of our proximity these last days, to experience what it felt like to be close to her and not just side by side, but face to face—mine inches away from her. And when I turned around to face her, my wishes were fulfilled.
Unbothered by our proximity, her eyes scanned mine as if she were searching for something and in that moment, I wished to get lost in the green forest of hers. A smile grew on her lips, "I hope we could walk today, it'd be nice to have a little conversation with you." Olivia took a step back, clasping her hands in front of her as we began to walk down the abyss that was called a staircase.
I couldn't hide my own smile. "That's very surprising."
A devious smirk and gentle bump to my shoulder, "How about we continue our game as we walk? Get to know each other better rather than staying in complete silence like we've been doing quite a few times."
"It seemed like you didn't want to speak with me."
She ignored my comment, pretending as if she didn't Jesse it, but I knew she did. Another lip bite and her cheeks a rosy red, I was sure she heard my comment. I didn't take long before we were outside and walking on the sidewalk side by side, her arm grazing mine as we engaged in our own conversation, "It was my turn, if I'm remembering correctly." Olivia raised her eyebrows, "Have you ever been to America, Annalise?"
I was enjoying her company more than anything of as right now while weaved past couples and families, "You can call me Anna."
"I like Annalise better. Besides, a stunning beauty like you deserves to be called with a name full of grace, don't you think?"
A stunning beauty like you. A stunning beauty was what she saw when she looked at me. If only she knew that she was the only stunning beauty between the both of us. If only she realized how much she was the one who resembled a piece of artwork, one an artist took their time on creating. A piece of artwork that would never bore me as I looked at her. She was the stunning beauty and perhaps, I was her mirror that showed her that she was. Although, if it weren't true, I still couldn't stop the heat from taking over in my cheeks.
"No, I've never been to America." I answered, a smile on my lips.
She tilted her head to the side and hesitated with her response, the tip of her fingers brushing against the hem of my dress as she scooted closer to me to avoid hitting the people walking beside her. "Have you ever felt the desire to?"
Never once in my life. "Is that a question a part of the game, or just for curiosity?"
"I would say for the game, but I've already had my chance to ask my question, Annalise." Annalise. "Ask me a question?"
It wasn't until we turned into the farmer's market that I had asked what was on my mind. Truth is, there was not much I wanted to ask her or maybe that was because nothing had really crossed my mind. Quiet as she picked out what she needed, occasionally stopping to talk with people whom she didn't know. Her eyes focused on the little things we walked past. I turned my head towards her, watching her tapping her fingers against the edge of the large cardboard boxes. "What do you feel most passionate about?"
She stopped her tapping and closed her eyes, "Nothing." Reopening her eyes, she faced me, smiling coyly as she awaited for my response.
Absolutely nothing. "I'm sure you're good at something, Olivia."
"Wrong." We began to walk again, side by side, our arms brushing against each other. "Being passionate about something isn't just for skill, you just have to let it develop as you go. For now, I'll be living my life and when it comes, it comes."
A sun that didn't need to shine to show how bright she was and I was falling for it. She could stand miles away and I'd still be blinded by her words and her smile and the way she did things. Alluring without even noticing she was, and it seemed impossible to not find myself wanting to melt and burn in her sun. And for the rest of that day, that's what I did. Only for today, I got lost in her brightness and her laughs as we talked and walked. Talked about everything, from meeting my mother to her father leaving at the age of five.
With her, I waltz around the neighborhood. From the farmer's market to yet, another café. And her every step, she got closer than I would have expected.
To be absorbed in her words and her expressions was a new feeling—one I wanted to feel more and more as the hours went by us. Like a rain, she Like rain, she flooded my mind and swam in circles around the dark abyss that I was willing to fall into. All so quickly, pulling me into her. These were all thoughts, overbearing ones that had me looking at Olivia in a different light. A light that I was sure would never turn off in my eyes because of how bright she was burning and I was moth to her flame.
And as she looked at diamonds, whispering how she'll never buy them, I realized that I was changing towards her. How was I to tell her that she was her own diamond, a diamond in my eyes? While she twisted her thin, golden necklace between her hands, I noticed how badly skin ached to feel her fingers—feel them in my hair and wherever else they wanted to explore, I'd let her do so and she wouldn't have to ask. I'd volunteer, for God's sakes, I'd ask her to. It was all an unwanted and unexpected desire that was growing into something, and I was wishing for more.
A feeling as foreign as she was, a feeling I never felt. Although, like all new things, I was willing to nurture this feeling to see how far it was supposed to lead me. Would being friends help this feeling go away, as I had a boy who was in love me, and I, him.
"What are you thinking about?" Her eyes looked deeply into mine, and I knew there wasn't a chance that I'd look away, "And that's a question for the game."
I couldn't tell her, it'd be too soon. Everything between was now different. "Would you believe me if I said I had no idea as to what I was thinking about?"
She showed her amusement as her eyes lowered to her intertwined hands, "No, I'll just tell you that you're lying." And once again, she looked me in my eyes.
"I'm afraid that if I tell you then you'll think of me as some weird girl that you'll have to put up with for the next two months."
Eyebrows raised, she smirked, "Afraid? You're already afraid of what I'll think?"
"Well, isn't everyone afraid of what other people think of them? Whether they know who they are or not."
"I'm not everyone, Annalise."
I believed those three words that came out of her mouth, I believed them without wasting a second to doubt if they were true. No gut feeling, no worry, just believe the words she's told me. It was like her hand holding mine, telling me to never let go and trust her as we fall into the hole on unknowing thoughts and feelings. I'm not everyone, as if to say I am the one. The one you could hold, the one you should want, the one you should trust. A way of asking me to open the door and let her in—the door was always open, Olivia, even if I hadn't realized it yet.
"I know." I finally said.
*
She wasn't here the next morning, not to buy coffee, but to sit on the steps of the building. I heard her quietly slip out of the front door, leaving it unlocked when she closed it. I pretended to be asleep as I listened to her footsteps and shuffling. The worn-out book in her hands and a yellow pencil scribbling against the white sheets. I stared down at her from the window of my apartment—the wind running through her hair as she smiled at each person that walked past her. I couldn't tell if she was writing or drawing, but I was enthralled in the way she moved her pen against the paper—so focused and only stopping time to time. And then, she was in the telephone booth, the red telephone pressed to her ear as she laughed at something in her conversation.
I found myself standing in my (her) bedroom. The bed unmade, her perfumes scattered across the across my small white vanity, her clothes folded on the chair beside the bed. Her scent filled the room and if I could, I would never change it. The tiny bathroom door opened, I walked in, my eyes scanning the shorts and camisole she wore last night. An empty coffee cup and cigarette ashes in the white garbage can, and once again, her scent claiming the room. Cigarette. I didn't see any of these when I showered here last night.
What was all of this, I asked myself, what was I doing? Standing here, eyeing her belongings as if I were obsessed. As if staring at her things would trace me back to the moment that I began to think of her as something more—more than what exactly? In all honesty, I had no idea as to when I began to think about more than just a girl who invaded my space. Now, I wanted her in my space. Don't distance yourself from me, Olivia, keep me at your fingertips. Close and close, then closer until we were one.
"I saw your father downstairs."
I didn't jump or gasp, I wasn't startled by her suddenly being in the bathroom. I felt uneasy knowing that she saw me in here, even if this was my bathroom. Her scent and cigarette ashes had claimed it hers, and I had a feeling that I wasn't willing to take it back. If it made her stay, then everything could belong to her.
She walked into the bathroom, standing beside me with her hands gripping onto the white counter, "He wanted to say hello to you, but I told him you were asleep." Her eyes looked into the mirror, boring into mine, "Seems like I was wrong."
Not a trace of anger was on her face, she was smiling. Her head tilted to the side as she leaned against the counter, "I hope I didn't startle you." She murmured. She bit her lip.
I wanted to, so desperately wanted to, press my lips to hers in that moment. Forget about Pierre, forget about my parents, and forget about the hatred I was forcing myself to feel for herself. Just the tiny taste of her and I'd live off that aftertaste for the rest of my life. Mold my lips with hers without a single regret and thought to stop me. And with one kiss, I'd play it over and over again, as if I was in that moment for the first time. Burn into my mind and never let the ashes fade away. I'd survive off that one kiss. Just tell me to, Olivia.
I broke our stare first, "I thought I had left something in here, perhaps it was just my mind."
"I'm guessing you didn't find it." Another way of saying, I don't believe you. Her hand on my shoulder and in my hair, placing a strand behind my ear. Another switch up in her demeanor, "I was going to make breakfast, join me?"
I'm surprised she asked me to make breakfast with her in my own apartment, but I wasn't dared to complain. It meant more time with her, all I wanted at this time in my life. "I'll be out in a moment."
Olivia closed the door behind her, leaving me to think about her alone as I waited for the shower water to heat up. And in this small, hot shower, I still thought of her. The heat that had risen in my chest as her fingers placed my hair where she desired them to be, our proximity. It was either everything about her, or nothing about her.
If I were to say that we both sensed our proximity and did nothing of it, would I be delusional? She did nothing to move away from, she moved closer instead, touching my hair. And like yesterday, unbothered as she inched closer to me. It was as if she knew what she was doing, like she caught on to the idea that I was imagining more than just a friendship in the back of mind. And at this moment, I longed for than friendship with her. Something more, just a glimpse and I'll be on my way.
Pierre. He was my love, the one I should have been thinking of while I stood underneath the shower. It was him and it was always him. The depths of his love were the first thing I thought of in the morning and as of yesterday, I hadn't bothered to call him.
And now, as I stared at myself in the mirror, fully clothed, I wondered if I wanted to call him anymore. I would think about it another time.
She wasn't in the kitchen, nor in the living room. She was outside on the balcony of the bedroom, sitting in the folding chair as she ate her breakfast—mine, placed across from her, getting cold from the wind. I stepped outside and took my seat. "Thank you."
"Ask me a question, Annalise."
"What are you thinking about, at this moment?"
"Many, many things." She looked up from her empty plate and into my eyes, "One of them being you."
What I thought was once starting before, was starting now and I wasn't going to end it. This was just the start, our beginning journey to the stars.