Chapter Six
Enid was the one who woke me up the next day. I overslept terribly, missed a few classes in Mom's homeschooling, but she has decided to give me a break - she always does it when one of us has a birthday. So mine was on Sunday. Still, she allowed me to skip school a bit. But Enid did the same thing, skipped her real school - she wasn't homeschooled like I was - and came to me, so her happy face would be the very first thing I see when I wake up. It's something she'd heard about once, to make a new year happy you have to see your spouse's face the first thing you wake up. So it's not quite a New Year, and we're not married, but my sweet little Enid would do anything to make me happy. I wish she wouldn't do it. It makes me feel so bad now.
She was sitting on Taylor's bed and smiling at her own thoughts when I woke up and saw her. At first, she didn't even notice; when I quietly called her name, she looked at me, then gave me a hug and a kiss. I held her in my arms for a long time, feeling like I would never let go of her sweetness. Then I decided I wouldn't think of any of this thing that happened while I'm with her. Because that makes me feel like a total scum of the earth, and heavenly powers, I didn't need it. I already had too much on my mind, too much to think of and too much to decide about.
She lay down with me under the covers, letting me hold her close to me, resting her head on my chest. It always makes me feel that strong man you can always see on television shows or sitcoms, who screws up big time but ends up getting the girl anyway, because the power of their love is so amazingly giant. Enid loves me. I know that. She keeps telling me that every once in a while, never complaining about me not saying the same back to her; I guess she keeps the attitude of "guys never say it, they simply show it", and we all know I have been really good to her, leaving her enough room for the assumption that I am madly in love with her. Thing is, it's not exactly correct. Like I said, I don't know what love really is. Maybe I do love her - but they always say, when it's love, you simply know it. I don't know it. So it's not love. I only know I cannot lose her, by no means I could let go of her, not in my whole life and especially not now. So I held her tightly next to my heart, knowing she could hear its rhythm, she could count its beat, and I stroke her hair slowly with my right hand and held her hand with my left hand… Until I heard her breathing steadily and suddenly was aware of the fact that she has fallen asleep - right there, with her head on my chest.
It felt good. It felt incredibly good. It felt as though we were - married! We were married, and this was our honeymoon, the first night of our marriage has just now ended, and there she was, my newly wedded wife, exhausted from along, hot night, full of loving and passion, sleeping on my chest. The perfect moment in your marriage, where there is still the excitement of being just married and fulfilled with everything you ever wanted and expected from the ceremony and the first night, but the material worries, the practical matters and the routine hasn't came yet. The perfect moment on the border of those two things.
"Zac… Zac, did I just fell asleep?" Her voice brought me back to reality. No, we aren't married. I swear, for the slightest bit of a second I felt sorry it wasn't so. My made-up fantasy was making me feel heavenly.
"It's okay if you're tired. You can sleep right here, just the way you're now. I like it."
"And I like you," she smiled, touching my lips with the tips of her fingers. "You look so cute when you wake up, Zac. Would it be true someday, when we will wake up together, side by side?" I didn't know what she meant by that - us, having a life together, or us, just making love and then spending the night together. At that moment, I liked both of the assumptions.
"Sure, there will be that day… Morning, to be correct."
"Love… my brown-eyed love…" she whispered, before drifting back to sleep. I don't know why she was so tired, or maybe it was the comfortable, cozy position she was in that made her sleepy.
My Mom entered the room then, and she rounded her mouth and nodded in disapproval at the sight of us at the same bed, cuddled together. I mouthed her to be quiet, so not to wake up Enid; she sighed and left the room. Of course she disapproved.
"She probably thinks we were making out under the covers," Enid suddenly whispered, giggling. "Wouldn't that be nice?" Her hand found mine again and squeezed it. "Imagine, sleeping that way all night long. We just have to do it someday. I think I'm going to do some research about when is the next time my parents stay overnight at somewhere, nevermind the reason. What do you say?"
"I say you're crazy… And I'm loving the idea!"
"But there is going to be a third wheel in the bed with us," she whispered. "My teddy bear!" And she laughed, her laugh resembling tiny bells, and I held her even closer to my heart, and she kissed me and laughed.
We had breakfast together, and she told me she skipped school today. She innocently looked me in the eye and said that she woke up and it was the last thing she wanted to do; while the first one was, spend the entire day with me. "I mean, Zac, lately with the school and everything, with the tour you had, we couldn't spend much time together. I think we have to make up for that lost time… Moments thrown in vain are now easy to catch back. We could go down to our spot in the woods… Not for what you think. It's so peaceful there. And I wanna show you something."
My sweet little Enid also used to write poems, every time she had this "weird and creepy feeling", as she called it. The right term was, inspiration. Basically, she wrote about everything and everybody, sometimes not making sense in her words, sometimes writing snippets I could swear would take place in the list of classics of our time. It was another piece of that puzzle of her charm.
"The teacher told us to write poems, any kind of, so she'd see if there are any hidden talents in her class," she explained, unfolding a sheet of paper which she took out of her purse. "Here it goes: look at me/I long for your gaze/look at me/ I long to know what's in your heart/ I want to know if you feel the same/ if you're in love / or the difference is/ in what we both feel / do you experience/ the forbidden love? / tell me, I need to know / whether the reality is good or not/ good, because I love you too / and not, if you don't / I want to be yours / I want to see what's inside your heart / look at me/ there's something I'd like to tell you / look at me / look, because I love you."
Her eyes moved from the paper to face me, and she gazed into my eyes for a while; I was afraid to ask her, what did she see there - was she able to see me right through like Chris was? "Look at me," she whispered. "Look at me, because I love you," she repeated the last line of her poem. "Look at me, because I see you feel the same."
The worst part was… She was right. I did love her. I knew it at that moment when she looked at me, with those unfamiliar feelings reflecting in her stare, right after reading the poem to me, and I saw there something I never saw before. She was just so… Out of this world. So unlike the others. I couldn't but love her. So, I guess it's official now. I love Enid.
And this was indeed the worst part, as much as love can be pleasant, this time it was plain old - inconvenient. Because although I was certain now about my feelings towards Enid and her importance in my life, I still felt the urge to go back to Chris and… repeat the kiss.