Don gets out of the car and opens the back door for me. Today, we're driving the sexy black car. It only seemed fitting for a funeral. I'm not sure if I mentioned this but I have a bit of a thing for luxury cars. Ah, the classic sign that a man is compensating for something. Guys like me have to redeem themselves somehow, okay? Just consider me a collector of tiny penis mobiles, if you must. You'll never find out if it's true, either way! I don't ever drive them, of course because Don does that for me. There's just something about sitting on fresh leather seats that makes you feel like a big boy. Don't you judge me.
Holding out the extra umbrella, Don stops in front of me and I take it from him. He turns around to head back to the car and I fling the umbrella open, holding it over not only my head, but Alexia's. When Don turns around to see that I'm not the only one walking to the car, his mouth drops open and he takes a dramatic step back. Really nice, Don. Thanks for that. I get it though. He probably thought that she just happened to coincidentally be leaving at the same time as me and stopped in the doorway when she saw the rain.
Like I said, I've never been Mr. Suave, so I'm sure he's in shock. When we near the open door, he closes his mouth and raises his eyebrows at me. I already know what he's questioning without him saying a word. He's wondering who the hell this pretty lady is, where she came from, why I'm sharing my umbrella with her, and why on Earth she would get in a car with a dude like me. Well, Don, I'd like to know too, so you just be patient and let me figure this shit out, okay? I will at least pacify him with an answer to one of his unspoken questions.
"A-alexia.", I say to him while completely avoiding eye contact, but nodding my head in her general direction.
I gesture for her to get in the car before me but she looks at me quizzically for a moment. Thankfully, I don't have to say anything else and she decides to go along with my request. It's probably not an easy feeing for a girl to get into a stranger's car, especially one like me. I hurry to the other side of the car, chest puffed out, proud as a penguin and don't even wait for Don to open the door for me. Taking a deep breath in, I hop into the back seat on the drivers side.
Rest assured, I keep my distance as to not make her uncomfortable. Or maybe as to not make myself uncomfortable. All I know is that I get myself real acquainted with the inside of a sexy red and black leather door. Hey there, you foxy little lady, you come here often? Edward, stop being gross and focus on the actual human sitting just two feet away from you. You'll have plenty of free time to be weird later. Let's at least make an attempt to act like a normal dude.
I pry my eyes off the back of the headrest in front of me and glance over at the pretty passenger to my right. When I see her, the tension in my shoulders slowly starts to release as I stare at the side of her melancholy face. Her despondent gazing out the window touches a painful place somewhere deep down in my chest. Why do I see myself in her? I mean, it's not that I think I look like her by any means. I'm not some kind of ugly beast of a guy but I'm certainly not as attractive as she is.
No, it's just that I feel like we're hurting in the same way and it hurts to see her feeling this way, so much more than it actually hurts to feel this way myself. I don't really know how to explain it. It's just a feeling, ya know? She says nothing during the ride. Of course, I don't volunteer to speak either, since things are going well and I don't particularly feel like giving my motor mouth a chance to get me into trouble at the moment.
Yep, the uneventful ride is peacefully quiet. The only sounds are the gently purring of Cynthia's engine and the pitter patter of the raindrops on the rooftop. And yes, I absolutely do name my cars and it's not strange at all. Loads of people do it! I look over to Alexia from time to time, not in a creepy way, but just to look. She seems to be taking in the scenery. I'll admit, it's really pretty out here, away from the city's center. The further out you go, the nicer it is.
Some people prefer the crowding of city streets and living so close to others. Not me. Before I even turned 18, I was ready to leave my parents. When I was choosing a place, I had one thing in mind. I wanted solitude. Once I came upon a tucked away patch land with a majestic old oak tree, right at front of the property, I knew I had found the place to build my home. I designed the house, myself too. Well, okay, not completely by myself. I had a lot of help from an architect. But I drew up models of how I wanted the landscaping, what I wanted the house to look like, where I wanted the pool, and where I wanted to put my music room.
For me, music has always kind of been my only outlet, the one way that I can express myself and free my soul of pent up emotions. It's forever been my heart and at the center of my life, so of course I designed my home to be be centered around music. Yeah, I meticulously chose every aspect of my home with a purpose in mind. Even the interior design was planned by yours truly. It wasn't terribly difficult but I will admit that it was a grueling process.
When I was still a snot nosed kid, I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder, or OCD. It's not what you think. Most people clean their house once a month and post on social media about how OCD they are just to humble brag and get a little attention. Or a friend makes a comment to them about how particular the person is about something and that person comes back with 'I know, I'm OCD. Tee hee hee.' For one, those statements don't make any sense. OCD stands for obsessive compulsive DISORDER. You can't be obsessive compulsive disorder.
You can be obsessive, you can be compulsive. Hell, you can even be obsessive compulsive. But you can not be disorder! That's only my first complaint. Secondly, it irritates me to no end when people take a crippling mental illness, like OCD, and use it in that way. Doing so completely invalidates the struggles of the people who truly have to cope with it every single day. It's a mental disorder that causes great distress in not only their lives, but the lives of those around them. The dictionary defines an obsession as an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind. And a compulsion is defined as an irresistible urge to behave in a certain way, especially against one's conscious wishes.
It's often not because we want to do something that we do it. It's an uncontrollable urge that eats us alive and causes extreme distress. And even though we don't always understand the reason behind what we must do, we simply have no other choice but to do it. Many times, people with OCD resort to self harm or suicidal thoughts. And don't get me started on tics. Much like you see with Tourettes Syndrome, people with OCD can develop a tic disorder. Oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought! I don't mean to rant or for this to come off as a lesson.
I'm pretty sure I went off on that tangent for a reason. Oh, right! OCD plays a huge role in my life and my home being the way it is. I like, no, I need straight lines, perfect 90 degree angles, clear patterns, and very simple color schemes. What color scheme did I go with, you ask? Well, it's black, grey, and white. There are no colors, so it's simple and not too loud. Colors just make me anxious. Like, if you buy natural wood furniture, how can you make sure that the wood is all exactly the same?
It could be natural oak, pine, bamboo! There are so many different options and finishes and hues to consider and it's absolutely terrifying to think that the dresser might not match the night stand. How on Earth people cope with that is beyond me. As long as they can sleep at night, I guess. You do you, boo. I'll stick to walking around with my grey swatches and matching silver accents, just living my best life.
Besides, I get enough color in my life just from the outdoors. Most of the first floor is made of floor to ceiling windows with built in electric shades that I can open and close, as I need to. Every morning, I roll out of bed and as I descend my fabulous spiral staircase, I take in the beauty of the trees and flower beds. It absolutely beautiful. I like to sit by the windows and eat, read, draw, or whatever else tickles my fancy. Every room on the first floor has something for me to do by the windows… Alone.