Chapter 4: Chapter Four Repartee |Rosette|
A familiar wave of comfort washed over me as I entered the bedroom I shared with Cecile.
The warmest, safest place in the whole house was our bedroom. A place where I could do and say whatever I want without worrying about silent judgment or sideways glances.
But, my room was only like that when Cecile's in there with me. Anyone can act as they please when they're alone—there's nothing special or liberating about that.
You know you're free when you can indulge in all the pleasures that come with being yourself knowing full well they won't judge you and it'd be okay even if they did.
I especially liked the long talks we had on her bed. Sometimes sitting, sometimes laying down. We'd go back and forth for hours and often fell asleep in the middle of our conversations.
Banter is the best sleep aid.
When I talked with my sister, I never worried about saying the wrong thing or politically correct—not that actively tried to. It made me feel safe that—aside from minor disagreements—there weren't any real consequences to what I said.
Cecile had come home before me as she usually did. She sat at our desk; her face buried in her textbook. She looked comfortable in her home clothes, an oversized t-shirt and (my) sweatpants—heather grey with pictures of sleeping cats. Her long wavy hair was held back with a hair clasp, but a few strands fell over her face.
Seeing how comfortable Cecile was, made my school clothes feel much tighter and itchy—I couldn't wait to get rid of them.
Cecile eyes didn't leave her work as she said, "Look who's graced me with her presence."
"That's right. You're welcome commoner."
I took off my shirt and pulled a sweater over my head. Cecile snickered
"If I'm a commoner what does that make you?"
"Hm... the monarch of this room."
"Wow, this whole room? So impressive." Cecile looked my way and stuck her tongue out.
I pulled out the textbooks I needed and laid them out on my bed.
"Hey, our room's big"
"Is it? Can't tell with your crap covering up half of it."
I reached under my bed and pulled out my laptop. I looked around my side of the room. She wasn't wrong. Books, lose papers and clothes littered the carpet around my bed.
"This is... decoration," I said wryly.
As I flipped through my Pre Cal textbook, I heard Cecile laugh. That made me laugh too.
We both breathed a long, satisfied sigh—the kind that follows prolonged laughter.
For a while we did our homework in comfortable silence until I spoke to ask a rather pressing question:
"What do you think of Scott?"
Cecile looked up from her work and looked over at me. Her eyebrows knitted together, I confused her. Understandingly so, I've never brought up Scott or any boy before.
"I talked to him a little today. He's an interesting person, albeit a little..."
"Squirrelly?" Cecile suggested.
I nodded.
"He's a nice guy," she said.
"Well, he likes you. You should talk to him."
Cecile straightened up in her chair.
"Define like."
I thought for a moment. I didn't want to tell Cecile how Scott felt. That wasn't my secret to tell. Still, I thought maybe if Scott got closer to Cecile he might feel more inclined to tell her himself.
"As in he'd like to get to know you and be better friends."
Cecile smiled.
"Huh. I'd like that."
Cecile turned back to the desk and left me to wonder if I had helped Scott's situation or turned it upside down. I wasn't the type to meddle, but it seemed wrong to have such profound feelings for someone and not share them.
I figured deep down Scott wanted to tell her, but he needed a push. Besides, if there was ever a person you could share your innermost feelings with, it was Cecile.
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