Page 18 of Sparks of Insanity
“It’s okay, mum. Thank you for these, and thanks for understanding that I needed to make these decisions for myself. I guess I don’t always seem like I appreciate how hard you try to work around all my weird shit, but I really do.” Those tears trickled down her cheeks, and she briskly brushed them away.
“Em, nothing about you is weird, baby. You just need to find who you are, and I think you’re doing that a bit at a time. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ll always be our beautiful daughter, no matter what you choose.” Or who? I wanted to ask that question right then, but I wondered if she’d act like my dads had last night. I’d caught enough of their ‘discussion’ with Mr E, to realise they were warning him off. I hoped he wouldn’t let them drive him away though.
Mum reached out to touch my hair, stopping herself at the last moment, the pain on her face bringing me close to tears too. On impulse, I spun around and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight, and barely wincing as her arms came uparound me too. Her quiet sorrow became heavy sobs as I held her, and realised that I was actually hugging someone other than Mr E, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought.
I forgot how comforting mum’s hugs could be, how her sweet perfume seemed to have a calming effect on me. As a kid, I’d been a real hugger, and especially with mum, who was essentially my best friend back then. How strange for this to have seemed so alien, until I took the step I’d been hiding from for so long.
As we finally broke apart, and I stepped back again, reclaiming my distance and my safe space as the familiar awkwardness returned, and I felt out of my depth with that closeness, mum clasped her hands under her chin.
“I never thought you’d ever let me hug you again, baby. I’m so proud of you, and it’s sappy to say this, but you just made my day.”
I held up a hand, trying to stop her before her hope started to crush me under its weight.
“Please don’t read too much into it, mum. I’m not fixed, or normal, or anything like that. I just… it felt right for that moment, but now I need my space again.”
She nodded, backing towards the doorway, like she realised the moment had passed, and I needed to move on. She pointed at the zombie mug by my bed.
“Don’t forget your cuppa, sweetie. Love you.”
Ethan
I FELT LIKE SHIT when I woke up, like I literally hadn’t slept a wink, even though I knew I had, because the dreams I had were so wrong and twisted, that I hated myself for them, even though they were out of my control. I shouldn’t be dreaming about aseventeen year old girl, and wanting her, so that shit had to stop right the fuck now.
Did she have to make it so fucking difficult though? When I stepped into the study this morning, there she was, looking unexpectedly perky, and less gothlike than normal.
It wasn’t any one thing, it was several things, starting with her wide smile as she greeted me, and further added to by the fact that her makeup wasn’t as dark and heavy as usual, and her eyes seemed to sparkle like ocean water, when coupled with the sky blue shirt she was wearing. She had a black jacket over it, but it was open, and that blue shirt just lifted her appearance, and added a brightness that was normally lacking from both her wardrobe and demeanour.
“Hi Mr E,” she said perkily, spinning around in her seat to look at me fully, even though I’d taken in every fucking detail already. I was destined for hell, and I’d fucking deserve it too.
“Morning Em, okay let’s start with where we left off on-”
“Do you like my blouse, Mr E?” Fuck. I took a deep breath and sat down, wondering how the fuck to keep her on track, but not insult her, and lose her focus for the day.
“It’s very nice, Em. Okay, so to focus on-”
“You didn’t close the door, I’ll get it.” She hopped up and I reached out, stopping myself before I risked touching her.
“No. Leave it open.” She practically pouted at me.
“But it’s usually closed so we can concentrate on lessons, Mr E.” Yeah, only I need help fucking focusing around you now.
“I think that it’s best for both of us if it stays open. Please, take your seat and let’s get started, Em. We’ve got plenty to cover if you hope to be ready for your final exams. We want to pass them first time, don’t we?” It suddenly hit me that if she failed any of them, they might expect me to keep teaching her. Could I keep doing it, or would I just fall further and further down the hole into inappropriateness?
Em sat back down and offered me her best impersonation of scholarly interest, but I wasn’t buying it for a moment.
“Look, things have gone a little off track lately, but we need to get our focus a hundred percent back on your studies, and getting you through these exams. That’s the reason I’m here, Em. I’m here to make sure you’re prepared and can ace them, and if you fail, then I fail, so we’re not letting that happen, okay?”
She opened her mouth, and I lifted a hand to shush her.
“I’m serious. Nothing but studying and learning, Em, going forward I have to remain your teacher, and we need to stay out of contact outside of teaching hours.”
Her mouth dropped open again, and she literally fucking scowled at me in response.
“I don’t accept that premise, so let’s negotiate.”
Negotiate? What the fuck? Was this something she’d learned from those dads of hers? My experiences of them were starting to unnerve me, and now so was she.
“Em, this isn’t something we can negotiate, this is your future. This is your academic career we’re talking about. Your parents wanted me here to help you catch up on your studies, to retake your exams, and we’re so close to your exam date. We’re so nearly there, so let’s keep on top of things and get you those top marks, okay? That’s all I’m here for. To help you achieve your goals.”
