After a shower, I went to smoke on my window sill, taking deep drags before producing smoke rings for no one but myself to appreciate.
Yesterday morning, I had waited for Lesly downstairs and worked myself through the documents I had found in my father's safe. Besides records about Lesly, I found a file about my mother.
Various medical reports, as well as admission forms for psychiatric facilities, showed that he had planned to send her away, but for as long as I can remember, he hadn't gone through with it. Smiling mockingly, I thought that it would have been the best if he had, preventing both of us from suffering unnecessarily. And maybe he would have brought in Lesly earlier.
It was recommendable how my mood changed when seeing my stepmother coming down the stairs; the documents I only had been through halfway were no longer important. Not as important as eating breakfast together.
She asked me not to stare at her, but how could I not, when my favorite activity was to do just that? Maybe the fascination with the original never existed at all, at least not since I first saw Lesly.
At the very latest, the interest would have changed from the original to the substitute after I saw Liliana's picture yesterday.
There was nothing interesting about someone with the same type and the same looks as every one of my hookups had. I could imagine setting her on fire, which naturally had much more excitement to it, but that was also with everyone else the case, so nothing special at all.
The ocean, however, was only with Lesly, so naturally I had to stare into it, waiting to be swept back into my body and enabled to experience my surroundings vividly once more.
It just doesn't compare to a long-lost withered so-called beauty and love that had never been destined to bear fruit anyway.
I have to say, since seeing the picture, I look down on my father more than before. Was this infatuation really worth destroying the lives of so many people?
This feeling, I would never be able to understand.
Watching Lesly, who looked uncomfortable while driving to school, I had to suppress a chuckle. She was too thin-skinned for being such a daring little crow.
I have never used such corny lines to get it on with a girl, and I didn't intend to do so. Now that I just stated the truth, and it came out somewhat flirtatiously, the crow is all ruffled up.
When exiting the car, I met her eyes across the car roof and didn't get just why she looked even more distressed. But behind her, the answer lay.
"Ha." After I asked Lesly to go, not wanting her to hear me lie and talk like the little teenager she had long perceived me as, I let out a long sigh.
Walking to the bunch, I let them talk bullshit while my agitation that was constantly there since seeing her—only intensifying instead of declining—turned for the worse again.
Carving a cigarette, I opted for not smoking in front of the school gate, the promise still prominent in my mind; I wouldn't cause trouble.
I wanted to let them talk themselves tired before I answered, but I couldn't hold back by the next remark about how I was sexually engaging with my stepmother and whatnot.
"So what if she has? What has it got to do with you?" When my father takes an unwilling woman as his official wife, it was okay, but if the stepson has a supportive relationship with his stepmother, everyone starts to go crazy and imagine affairs going on.
I stopped myself from causing problems and just simulated how I would react if I really hadn't set Berny on fire, before moving on to threatening them with my father's existence for them to stop talking shit about her.
One would have thought they were intimidated by someone setting another student on fire, but they really dared they confront me so openly, even scaring the little crow. I could neither threaten them with the crime I had committed because I couldn't admit it, nor could I just punch them.
At least not openly.
If someone ended up sacked, it would be different.
The more they spoke—the more I talked, the more I was relieved that Lesly wasn't present. And that feeling only grew when I was asked yet again if I had slept with my stepmother.
Remembering what the girl said at the soirée, I was sick of these accusations, sick of these suspicions.
Sick of explaining myself, so I resolved to never justify myself on this topic again, after this one last time, saying what everyone else wanted to hear, what everyone thought about whether I had something going on with my stepmother,
"Wouldn't that be disgusting?"
The others looked at me stunned, and sort of intimidated, although I couldn't say why.
Carving a cigarette so badly, I reached into my pocket for the golden Lollipop I wanted to give Lesly (openly, not as a bait) but opted against it in fear that she would discover I had figured her little hobby out.
During the strange silence, I unpacked it, and popped it into my mouth.
"It would be hot." One of the guys, the one that was the one speaking the most obscenely, stunned me so much by that murmur, that I nearly dropped the lolly.
Except for the one that wanted to stir a conflict, smoking on the side while watching me with annoyance written on his face, everyone turned to the one who had spoken, me included.
"What? There are even 'real' mother-and-son porns online; what's a stepmother, in contrast? She is hot and looks young." He continued; if I remember correctly, his name was Lenny.
"Shh." Adam looked at me in fear that I would hit someone again, or really bring my father over.
"There is much sicker stuff out there; as long as they aren't blood related, what does it matter?" He wanted to continue, but somebody came from the side and held Lenny's mouth shut.
"Just ignore him."
I nodded slowly, crushing the lolly between my teeth, and hummed upon seeing his reaction.
"You think so?" Asking Lenny for confirmation, I saw him nod if he couldn't talk directly.
Chuckling, I ended our boy-to-boy meeting,
"I'm not into this kind of stuff." Turning, I left, as I further crunched on the remains of the sweetness in my mouth.
An almost delightful taste.