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By iasif600 All Rights Reserved ©

Poetry / Romance


At the age of 12, Ario was given to Nathan, by his mother Mrs. Hersch. Nathan claimed that he could figure out why Ario always looked depressed and would make him feel better. What Nathan also did was bond with Ario. Nathan made him into the perfect teenager. Perfect, in Nathan's sense. And then when Nathan dies. Everything changes. Ario starts spiraling when the only person he really cared about dies.

Start of the Ripple

Okay, I can’t hold it in anymore. I run out of class and run to the toilet, and oh. There are not many words that can aptly describe how good it feels when your bladder is relaxed.

To be clear, I normally don’t run out of class like that. I like to stay composed and that’s how I’ve been since I long time. It is a lot better this way. You get to avoid a lot of things that you would normally have to face when you aren’t composed and you interact with loads of people unnecessarily. It’s something I’ve learned over the years. It’s nothing compared to everything I’ve learned over the years.

I perform well enough in school. Not bad, that I have to be told to score better nor good enough for people to come celebrate at my house or anything along the lines. I’m also, despite being ‘composed’ and ‘controlling’, adequately popular. I’ve been working for the school as an editor, very soon after they discovered my writing skills.

And I’m madly in love.

I start walking back to the class after relieving my bladder of it’s duties, which it has not performed well since it didn’t keep me from running out of class, and the bell rings before I reach the class.

I grab all my belongings from the locker and grab my keys and walk to my car and drive home. Been a long day. A very long day. Exhausting.

“How was school, Ario?” Mom asks, like every other day of the year, seeing me run upstairs.

“It was okay, Mom.” I answer, failing to ignore her question. Honestly, it was not a very good day. Or even okay. It’s not the best day to be ‘composed’ or ‘under control’ when the one person who lead me through every single obstacle to become what I am now, is dead. Yes, he’s dead. Nathan Gregoor, the One. Dead. And yet, I seem to be calmer than considered ‘normal’. Of course, I’m not ‘normal’. I’m what Nathan wanted to me.

Before I’m halfway upstairs, Mom shouts. “I will be there in a minute, keep the door unlocked please.”

Oh god. She read. She read from my face. I’m not composed enough. I never get it. Is it like a thing with mothers? They somehow always know when you’re not fine? I get it, it’s a useful little skill to have, but come on. Not every singly time. Can’t I be not-fine and at home, without Mom noticing for once.

I scoot to my room and change into clothes that ‘normal people’ wear indoors. Home is the one place where I look ‘not-so-formal-but-still-formal’. Nathan taught me that, to look presentable even in my sleep. And he never thought pajamas made me look presentable.

I head to a space in my room I call The Wall, and start writing all the things I have to do today. Ugh. Nathan’s thing. I’m doing the eulogy. And I don’t have anything prepared. You’d imagine a control freak would have a eulogy prepared for the death of every single person he knows. No, not true.

I get on my computer and start typing out a eulogy. And when I’m done, Mom knocks on the open door. I click Print.

“Come in, Mom.”

“What is wrong? Clearly, you’re not in the best of looks.” I hand her over the eulogy and she does a quick skim of the whole paper.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Ary. You know I have no idea what to say.” Mom says. She blames herself a little too much. She had this face that roughly meant she’s calling herself the worst Mom ever.

“It’s not okay, but I’ll be fine in a day. You don’t have to be worried.”

I hear another knock on my open door. Four knocks. Alesha. My older sister. Four knocks always meant Alesha.

“Oh, Ales. Greg...” Mom starts to say and cry. I should probably be wondering why I’m not crying.

“I heard. Ary, are you fine? How’re you holding up?” Alesha asks. Being the caring sister she really is.

It’s not everyday Alesha gets to ask that question. Then again, it’s not everyday Nathan dies. And it’s not everyday I start to show a little emotion, ie., other than love.

“I’m fine, Ales.” I say and Mom hands her the eulogy for some reason. Now Alesha’s crying too. I really don’t know what to say either, so I wait a minute before both of them stop crying in my room.

“I’ll take you to know, Ary.” she says. “Thanks.” and that’s that. Slowly, both of them start exiting my room.

I sit on my desk and start working on the rest of the things for the day. And before long I’m all in blacks. I hear the four knocks and then I catch myself speaking in front of at least two hundred people.

And then I’m on bed. And the one thing on my head is, ‘I hope he had nothing else to teach me.’

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