I couldn’t answer. I just couldn’t. As Charlotte stopped knocking, pounding, banging on the door I turned to my computer and loaded up iTunes. I found the hardest rock songs I had (The Black Mages were the best) and started playing them at near-full volume. I went to turn on my own Playstation, but stopped half-way. I couldn’t. I turned back and sat on my bed, staring blankly at the computer screen. It was times like these where mine and Charlotte’s similarities really came into play. She played loud music to block things out, so did I. However, she and I did have one large, main difference. No matter what happened, our will was absolute. But… if I set my mind on something, I would never, ever accept help from anyone else. Charlotte proved how much I meant to her yesterday when she allowed me in… But I couldn’t. I physically couldn’t.
My love for her didn’t falter, never had, never will. But that didn’t change the fact that I would never ask for help. I’d have to be a hopeless wreck to do that. Like crying, I felt it made me weak, and I never wanted to do it again. After a few songs had passed by, I stopped gazing at the ceiling and stopped the music. I opened the door, and walked slowly downstairs, Charlotte following me. I walked into the living room, where Mum sat alone, watching TV, and I sat down on the adjacent sofa. “Mum. Charlotte. We need to talk.”
Mum looked a little confused, and Charlotte looked to the floor. “There’s something about me you don’t know,” I began, “And you need to know. Lately, I… I’ve got a boyfriend.” I held up a hand to stop Mum’s protests and Charlotte’s congratulations. “Don’t. I have a boyfriend, but he’s long-distance. Very long-distance. I’ll never see him in my lifetime, but I know how my heart feels.” Mum began to protest once more but I silenced her. “Don’t! This is why I’m sick of this, Mum! This is why we have to talk, this is why I need to get things out in the open, and because of how you react to everything Charlotte does! You’re doing it with me, too, now! I’m 16! An ADULT and I can make my own, correct decisions! And please, don’t go off on a rant about how much you love me, and that you do what you do to protect me, because I don’t need it! We need to talk like this because I can’t talk like this, which is why I’ve asked my tutor at school to refer me for counselling!”
Charlotte looked at me confusedly and Mum turned to gaze at the floor. “Yes. I’m taking counselling, starting next week. You know why? Dad’s been blunt about how he feels with me having boyfriends, and I go through love like anyone else does, I know what it’s like, I know the ups and downs. Difference is, I’ve been used for love more times than you know and I don’t mean physically,” Mum tried to butt in, “I mean emotionally. I mean that my heart’s been used to make me obsess and then I’ve been thrown to the gutter. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. But that’s not the only reason I need counselling. A friend of mine committed suicide this week, because of me. Because I couldn’t love him back. So he overdosed. And you know how I felt? You know how it ripped me apart? Of course you do. Because this brings me onto my fourth point, my weight. Whenever I’m depressed, I stop eating. Whenever I’m upset, I stop eating. I’m 6 foot tall, Mum! 6 foot! And how much do I weigh?” I paused here, to look at her reaction. “How much, Mum?” She shook her head vaguely. “I don’t know.”
I laughed incredulously. “My own mother doesn’t know how much I weigh! Charlotte knows, or did know, because I’ve gone down again! Yeah, I’ve lost weight! I’m 7 and a half stone again, Mum, and you know what that makes me? 6 foot, 7 and a half stone? It makes me almost anorexic! Anorexic! And that, combined with the other points, is why I need help. You know how hard it is for me to ask for help, you know it has to be a life or death situation for me, and that’s what it’s become. Charlotte here is the only reason I get up in the mornings these days, to make sure she’s okay and to make sure she can deal with things. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here anymore.”
I stood up and took Charlotte’s hand. “That’s why we’re going. Last night, before Charlotte’s outburst, I packed our school bags full of supplies, just in case. We need answers, Mum, and you’re not giving them to us. So we’re leaving. We’ll find Dad ourselves, our real Dad, and I know just where to start.” I pulled Charlotte from the room and upstairs, grabbing her bag and placing it carefully on her back. “It’s a little heavy, I’m sorry,” I said lovingly, and she nodded. “It’s okay. Are you sure?” I nodded. “I’m sure. You’re right; we’re both sick of this. And I promised, didn’t I? I’ll never leave your side, ever. Not until you want me to.”
“So…where are we actually going?” I asked, confused. How could Steven know where to even start to find our real dad? “Back to town,” Steven said surely, “To the food court.” I smiled in comprehension, and went to grab my coat. Noticing that Steven hadn’t packed my teddy bear, I pulled him out from under my pillow and placed him in the top of my bag. I made one last check in my many pockets; keys, phone, purse, lip balm, eyeliner, mascara…Check! Steven came into my room just as I finished checking, and we walked downstairs, loaded down by our heavy bags. Mum came out of the living room to try and persuade Steven to stay once more, and I crept into the kitchen, thankful of the distraction. Checking Mum was still busy with Steven, I grabbed her purse from her bag. I took her main credit card and about £100 of cash, shoving them into my purse just as Steven came in. Pretending to get a drink, I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and we finally left.
Steven and I caught the bus back into town for the third time in as many days, and made a beeline straight for the food court. We grabbed a table and ordered some chips, to make us seem less conspicuous. However, Steven wouldn’t eat. I thought about what he had said to Mum…“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You…you always try to be there for me. Even if I don’t ask for your help, you try to give it. And I…couldn’t do the same for you…I…I’m sorry.” Steven smiled reassuringly, but I didn’t feel any better. Until I spotted a very familiar face, that is. “There! The Al Bhed man!” I cried, lowering my voice just in time. Steven span round in his chair, and nodded once, to show he had seen him. “Let’s go,” he said, dragging me up by the hand and tugging me towards the man.
I stopped and quickly turned back to Charlotte. “I know this is stupid, but I’ll go first. You heard how he talked to Dad. If anything happens, just know this. You are the world to me, you really are. And don’t worry. You’re always there. I just…choose not to take your assistance. It’s always appreciated.” Charlotte nodded, and I walked forward, pulling her along behind me. The man looked up pompously at us from his seat, and said one, simple word. “Yes?” I coughed nervously, immediately wishing I hadn’t. “My name’s Steven. I’m not here to mock you, or insult you in any way. I just have a few questions that I need to ask you.” The man gestured to the open seat opposite him. I turned to Charlotte, secretly writing a text message underneath the table. “Could you get me a drink? Diet Coca Cola will do thanks.” Charlotte nodded and walked away, and as she reached five paces, I sent the text. I turned to watch her; she nodded slightly as she walked.
I then turned back to the Al Bhed man. His long, blonde hair fell to his shoulders, perfectly framing his tanned face and kind eyes. Kind but aged, I noted. “I hate to bother you, but there’s a few things I really need to know.” He nodded, and clasped his hands together. I took this as a sign to continue. “My Dad met you here yesterday, at 1:30 pm. You insulted him, threatened him and walked away. I am not judging you for this, but I need to know why.” The man was taken aback slightly, before grinning and leaning forward. “So you’re following in his footsteps, eh? The devoted son, never knowing his father isn’t his father? Also wanting to become a spy?” I looked inquisitively at him, and he shook his head. “You’ll get no more out of me, Steven. You’re lucky you caught me when you did; I was just about to leave. And now, I shall.” He stood up, picking up his briefcase and began to walk away. “Could I at least know your name?” I called, and he turned and smiled deviously at me. “No-one dares speak it, so you’ll get nothing if you try and search it up. My name, little Steven, is Rin.”
As the Al Bhed man walked away, I sat back down, examining my phone. I looked through my Message Outbox, and made sure the message I sent Charlotte was correct. There it was, perfectly typed, not a single mistake despite the hurry I was in. “Don’t buy drink. When he leaves, tail him. I’ll follow.”
