Fresh Starts Are Hard To Do (part 3)
Again, I'm sorry this is so short. I have a good few chapters done, buuuut... I'm gonna be SUPER busy over the next while, so won't get them up for ages. And I can't do an LJ username tag. I fail. Huge.
Brendon stays, chatting to Gabe and helping me put away everything. He looks at the tags on my jeans, smiling at the girl label. I look at him, my cheeks scarlet, but he grins and says, “I wear girls’ jeans too. I’ve my mother’s hips.” I smile, and duck my head, busying myself with putting everything up in my wardrobe. A girl knocks at the door at around half seven, and Gabe grins and leaves with her. She’s very pretty, I note. “His girlfriend,” Brendon informs me.
I nod, rubbing my stomach. “Oh, fuck, I forgot you hadn’t eaten! Come on, we’ll go to the café,” he says, grabbing my hand, lacing our fingers together. This feels natural, I think. No-one looks twice. Everyone gets on with their business, not paying any attention to us. It feels bittersweet. In Ireland, people would have been staring and muttering from behind hands. I sigh, and admit the fact that Ireland is a Catholic country. But, believe it or not, it’s getting better.
America feels good. Not as narrow-minded. More free. But then that is what the Statue of Liberty declares- Give me your tired, you’re your yearning to breathe free.
Brendon pulls me towards the café. It’s a typical American diner- the ones you see in movies. I hear Guns and Roses- Sweet Child O’ Mine drift out of the doors.
“I love this one!” Brendon declares, and when it finishes, he slides a dime into the jukebox and selects U2- Beautiful Day.
I groan. “What’s wrong, you don’t like U2?” asks Brendon worriedly. “No, I do, but I’m sick of Bono,” I explain, playing with a bracelet on my arm. He makes a noise of assent, seeming confused. I decide not to explain.
The waitress comes over, and hands us a menu. I select a pasta dish, as usual. I have a thing for pasta, I don’t even know why.
I chew on my pasta, listening to the lyrics. It’s a beautiful day, don’t let it get away, and I look outside. Today, it’s not the sweltering Las Vegas heat I was expecting, it’s sunny, but with a refreshing breeze. I dreamily watch the leaves dance on the trees, and people holding onto their hair to save the wind from blowing it out of place. Why, I wonder, stabbing a piece of pasta with my fork. There’s nothing better than to feel the wind play in your hair, caress every strand, and make each individual hair swirl in the air.
I hear a laugh. “Back on earth, space cadet?” he asks playfully. I smile, taking in the angel in front of me. “Sometimes, I don’t even know,” I say, stealing a fry from his plate.