Burned: Mocked Sequel

"Don't fool yourself, she was heartache from the moment that you met her.
My heart is frozen still as I try to find the will to forget her, somehow.
She's somewhere out there now." - Jeff Buckley

Chapter Eighteen

The meaning of life is

I stare at my laptop screen, the black line that indicates where you left off just keeps blinking, mocking me with a reminder that it hasn't moved in over an hour. I just don't have any ideas for this paper yet. The meaning of life? The mystery of life? I'm just not sure what to write about right now.

I sigh and close my laptop. No use in trying to continuously push myself to do something that isn't happening. I glance over at Rick's laptop to see what he's gotten so far.

"Dude, you were supposed to be writing!" I complain as I see youtube open on his screen. Beyonce does a couple dance moves, singing out to a crowd. I pull out one of Rick's earphones and he looks at me annoyed. "Why weren't you writing?" I ask him.

"I've got plenty of time for that shit, H. Don't trip about it. I can get it done easily. It's not like James is really looking for some complex paper. Hell, it's senior year. He knows that seniors are the laziest bunch in the bananas," Rick tells me, putting his earphone back in to turn his attention back towards Beyonce.

I just shake my head and get up from my bed, stretching out my legs that have been in the same position for over two hours. This morning, Rick showed up around eleven and said that we should work on the project together. I, thinking that he was serious, agreed and let him. Turns out I'm the only one who actually had thoughts of working on it. Not like it actually worked though.

I tell Rick that I'll bring us some lunch from downstairs and he agrees. I jog down the stairs and greet Mother who is standing at the counter, tossing a simple salad. I eye the red cherry tomatos that go from the bowl to the air back down to the bowl again.

"How's the project coming?" Mother asks casually as I open the fridge, pulling out items to make sandwiches with.

"Fine," I shrug, setting the items on the table. Rick has eaten here plenty enough times for me to know his type of sandwich.

I work on preparing the food as Mother completes her salad. I grab two plates and am about to leave when Mother puts her hand on my arm, stopping me from walking away.

"Harry," she says and I turn towards her.

"Yes?"

"Why haven't I seen Veronica around lately? I thought you guys were resolving your issues?" Mother asks me, concern in her voice and sympathy in her eyes. But I don't want her sympathy. Why is this even her business?

"Why do you care?" I take back my arm and put the plates down, knowing that I won't be leaving any time soon.

Mother frowns a bit. "I just want to know if you're doing okay. I know you love her and-"

"I don't love her."

"Now Harry, don't do that to yourself. I know how you function with these things and I know what went on between you two. Don't try to tell me that you don't love that girl. I've seen the way you act around her and the way you act without her. Let me tell you one thing clearly, you need her in your life. I think she keeps you sane."

I stare at Mother with such wide eyes that I can literally feel the shock rolling off of me and onto her. But she doesn't at all look like she would take back her words. I don't know how she could possibly know or think all of that, but it's not like she's wrong. I mean...I guess she does kind of keep me sane.