Deux

Pathetic Fallacy

3:02 AM

When moonlight saturated the sky

And his fears curdled like lumps in milk

When his walls dissolved

Like clumps of brown sugar

Being stirred through my tea

Only to be erected bigger-

Stronger

The very next day

Maybe I had bored him

Only to be called when the sky was dipped

In a pleasant grey

I used to love the sky painted

In blues and puffy cream

But he never calls

On summer days

I wondered to myself, as I stroked the scratchy edges of page number 3 of my sister's journal, if she had seen things through some strange kaleidoscope lens. When everyone else stared through crystal clear telescope vision, and she would look with some distorted, cynical beauty.

Andrew Clements had been my sister's boyfriend, he was a reasonable guy- a little too straight edge for my liking, with cropped brown hair and an unnatural obsession for Woody Allen films. He played baseball and the guitar (badly) and was destined for a life of mediocrity.

His Dad owned a small used car dealership, and his mother, Poppy, was president of Avalon's book club that was known less for discussing books but more for creating home-grown gossip. Poppy Clements considered herself quite the local celebrity, and in turn was prone to dramatic fits during social gatherings- particularly her own. On more than one occasion she had rewarded her own frightful instability with four too many cocktails and had found herself on another infamous Poppy Clements tangent and in a mood that could only be described as hysterical. Examples of this could be found throughout the year, with the end of summer barbecue becoming the time Poppy Clements accused her husband of cheating. And the autumn carnival transformed into a wondrously entertaining episode of the time Poppy Clements accused Mary Butcher of trying to seduce her husband. Ironically enough Craig Clements was about as alluring as Poppy Clements was reasonable and was dare I say it, lucky enough to have found anybody that could stand his whisky breath and bleak presence for longer a few minutes.

Wicked families aside, I had never imagined Andrew and Summer's relationship lasting longer than the first semester of college, where Summer would move away to study writing and Andrew would stay in Avalon, population twenty three thousand five hundred and sixty two, to help his father with the family business. It would break his heart, sure but he'd eventually move on to one of Summer's pretty but albeit mentally lacking friends like Tamara Gould or Francesca Marsh who stayed in town to work some dead end job, or to study beauty therapy. And Summer would graduate, move to New York, and marry some big fish.

That was how it was meant to happen.

Andrew had always given more than he got, he had chased Summer for months before she agreed to be his girlfriend, he loved her more than Annie Hall or Manhattan or Midnight in Paris- and she, well I'm not sure she even knew what love was. It must've been exhausting to love her, when his brown eyes burned with an insatiable appetite for only her and her baby blues glazed over with some cruel indifference.

Miles said in a relationship there was always a reacher and a settler, there were always those that would grasp out past their reach, and similarly there were always those that would fish for people that made them feel better.

"Nobody's equal in life. Sometimes there's only a small gap of difference- but there's always a gap." He said, speaking as if he'd said something profound as he tucked another milk dud under his tongue to suck on. Miles always had some absurd life theory.

"So you're saying everybody is either one of two things. That's ridiculous." I said, rolling my eyes as I read through page three for the fifth time.

Miles was my oldest friend, short and lean with a tuft of messy brown hair and a habit for wearing clothes twice his size. He had an obsession with Japanese animation and buying tapes from garage sales, his room was permanently messy, with deep blue walls covered by hundreds of posters and wooden floors decorated with last week's clothes, yesterday's meals and this morning's forgotten activity, today of which was going through his vast gaming collection which now lay sprawling over meters of floor.

"It's not ridiculous, it's the truth. People aren't nearly as complex as you think. The settlers, generally they're insecure… looking for someone to make them feel, I don't know, divine, other- worldly, to give them some kind of validation. They want someone to want them-"

I cut Miles off with a harsh glare and he laughed.

"I'm sorry, cheesy 90's pop songs aside, they're narcissists."

"Cheap Trick's original came out in the 70's Miles."

"Whatever."

"So I suppose reachers are better?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow as I watched Miles bash the buttons on his Nintendo, an awful lot of concentration on his face for someone who was playing a game designed for ten year olds.

He laughed, "No, no- they will forever spend their lives loving more than they are loved in return. They're like dogs, all consumed in the world of their partners."

"Okay, now you're really being ridiculous. I can't believe I've entertained this theory long enough to argue with- but just because someone is better looking, or smarter or something that deems them 'better' doesn't necessarily mean they love the other less."

"Of course it does! The reacher always loves more, the settler already loves themselves too much." He said as he lay his Nintendo down beside him.

"What about Summer and Andrew?"

Miles looked taken aback for a moment, biting his lip, not too sure how to approach the subject of my dead sister.

"Isn't that an obvious case proving my point? I mean... everyone knew Andrew was reaching and everyone also knew she never loved him like he loved her. He was her lap dog."

I pushed page 3 into Miles' lap, "perhaps not."

I watched Miles' forest green eyes scan over the page, mouthing out the words as he read like he did whenever he was trying to process things. His eyes stopped and paused for a second before scanning over the page again.

I assumed my point had been proven before he sighed and said "this isn't about Andrew."

"What?"

"C'mon- you can't actually believe that this poem could really be about someone as boring as Andrew Clements? No way." Miles explained, carelessly chucking the journal back over to me, as he lay down on his bed- popping another milk dud.

"Andrew's the only boyfriend Summer ever had- who else could it be about?"

Miles shrugged, picking up the Nintendo that lay next to him "maybe she had a bit on the side, boyfriend number two- some forbidden lover… it's all very Shakespeare isn't it."

"Are you talking about forbidden love or my sister killing herself?"

I watched Miles stiffen, his eyes darting across his room, searching his navy walls lined in band posters for something to say. Kurt Cobain couldn't help him with this one- it was like watching a fish struggling to breathe out of water.

When I was a child my Dad would take Summer and I fishing, we would rarely catch anything but I recall one evening reeling in a small minnow fish, I didn't know what to do with it, I unhooked it and watched it flailing about on the dock- although everyone was impressed, jeering about how I could keep him or jokingly fry him up for dinner I decided to throw him back in.

"I don't think my sister was that kind of girl."

Miles' voice softened, "Look Alexa, I didn't mean that-"

"I also didn't think my sister was the kind of girl to kill herself, so what do I know, huh?"

The silence hung in the air like a foul stench, lingering a moment too long, venturing into the unknown territory of being uncomfortable. It had never been awkward with Miles and I, silence had never bothered us but this time it made its presence all too obvious, announcing its arrival like some unwanted party guest.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go- better stop avoiding my Mom eh?"

"You don't have to."

I smiled, "no, I do."

I stood up, heading towards the door with the rucksack I had been living out of. I had been avoiding home as much as possible, only sneaking in when I knew nobody was home, to top up my bag with fresh clothes. I had spent most of my time on Miles' floor, avoiding phone calls from almost everybody but especially from my mum.

I knew it was selfish of me, but I had fallen into the deep trap of being selfish lately, it was easier than being sad.

I strolled out of Mile's home like it was my own, "see ya Fiona!" I said, skipping off the patio.

"Will we being seeing you for dinner?" she asked with a wide smile, patting my shoulder as I left.

Miles' parents were significantly younger than my own, his mum was only nineteen when she had him and his Dad wasn't much older. Mr. Bryant- or Dale as he preferred to be called was the kind of adult that wasn't really an adult, he was the cool dad on school camps, the one who got involved and let you stay up after curfew.

He used to be in a rock band, openly let Miles drink beer at dinner since the age of 13, skated and was perpetually terrified of tuning forty. Miles had a sister too, Abigail she was blonde and frizzy haired and the smartest fourteen year old I knew.

They were my favorite people, the family I had wished I could slide into and be a part of since I became friends with Miles at seven years old. They were so easy it felt like floating.

Being with my family felt like being dragged down by a heavy anchor. Nothing was easy, it was like being nauseous on a carnival ride but never getting off. My melodramatic mother, my absent father and even worse my disapproving stepfather.

"I'm not sure, I might grace my family with my presence this evening," I called back. "Thank you!"

Fiona just smiled and waved, I thought I saw her mouth 'good luck' but I couldn't be sure.