I'm really bored! So I wrote this story (not really fond of poems right now).
Kind of inspired by my ex but this story doesn't have any gay themes (hey, not everything we write have to be about gay people.. no?).
Mmm, I hope you guys enjoy! Oh btw, I apologise for the obvious rip off of Mary Doria Russell's style... but I'm sure she won't mind =]
Feedback is greatly appreciated!
Stranger in my Life
This is what everyone would remember about the father: his appearance was immaculate. Regardless of where he was he would make sure every single inch of his body was an art pursued with the highest grade of religious zeal. In Justin’s mind, there was no gray shading between pure and dirty, right and wrong.
Yet one night he had sinned, made pregnant a young girl. Her face was drenched with tears when the news of the baby struck. ‘I’m pregnant’ she said. Jessica was sixteen. Justin was merely a year older.
He held on to her hand tightly, between them intertwined with unspoken words. He could leave her. He could walk away like this never happened. Or maybe he could cry with her and pretend it would be alright – when it wouldn’t be. But only the most dumbfounded thing of all escaped his mouth. ‘How’d it happen?’
‘You know how it happened. You were there Justin.’ She tightened her fingers slightly, applying a gentle pressure to his hand, echoed by his warm, beating pulse.
‘Right. I was’ Justin replied with a comment just as oblivious as the first. But he could make things right. They were standing under the shelter of an old drooping tree, one that had witnessed the tolls of time having bloomed and wilted with every joy and tragedy. He wrapped his other arm around her waist. She let him. ‘We’ll get through this. We always had. It’s going to be okay babe.’
For the swiftest of moments she believed him. For a moment she was not bearing a baby but instead was baptized and washed clean by his words. But then realization hit hard. ‘My parents are going to kill me,’ she cringed and tears trickled down her fragile face again. ‘I’m not going to abort the baby. Never. Ever.’ She leaned against his shoulder. He patted her head. Right now she was so brittle that another slightest spur of pain would shatter her like a glass splintering into a billion pieces. Right now, in a time and place she had never been before, she needed him the most to wade through it all.
And it seemed like as if he could read her mind.
‘I’ll never leave you, I promise’ and with that he kissed her gently on her neck, then her ears, lips. His hair smelled like some kind of flower, an aroma that would linger on her. The kiss was soft, light, not too heavy, like they would do it again and again for the rest of their lives. ‘I promise.’
‘And I don't care what anyone has to say about it. I love you.’ With that they held each other tightly. Yet he was so scared about the baby. He would be a bastard’s father and frightened this unpleasant gossip would become public. And a little bit, maybe just a little bit, he was a little obsessed that her tears might soak up his shirt and dilute his scented smell.
His solution was to simplify. He sought after and tried to seize the source of this entire problem. He would pull it from its roots and make things right again. He could not change what he did, but he could change how the world saw it. No longer would he be filth, because no one else could tell him how he felt about himself. Everything would be explained, not with excuses. She didn’t think so?
He still held on to her tightly like nothing could go wrong. He liked overdosing himself with cologne. He liked whispering into her ear and knowing the right words to say. He knew the right places to touch. Were these thoughts and habits of his noteworthy, perhaps random, or merely interesting? Here’s another, it was a shame Justin never got the chance to know you were a girl.