As a result of such rather unusual heritage and life it was pouring into so far, Hope was never able to process affection like a 'normal' person.
The Most. The Normal. The Standard. The Golden Average.
She was neither the most people nor representative of the normal or the standard, control sample of human form of life.
Hope was like the irregular verb no linguist had sorted out and came up with plausible explanation for, an unresolved failure in shedding much needed light on the irregularity beyond usual patterns of misbehaving grammar.
She needed the human touch to be and stay alive, but would feel the physical pain burn through her, soul torn with unrest, whenever someone actually touched her.
Literally, she was a human being, a girl almost an adult any day now, who was allergic to touch.
Making love will be a piece of cake, once she manages to get around allowing another living creature to successfully place a hand on her body for a second and not jump away in panic and pain.
***
Thus, Hope was always irrationally fearing the possibility of more intimate contact, when her mother was trying to sound emotional, like right now, starting the evening how-was-your-day conversation simply because they were supposed to have one.
-Where have you been so long? I spoke with your father and he said you left hours ago.
- I went for a swim
-Not in that filth at Ada….
-No . I went to the swimming pool.
Silence.
Some people just don’t want to react when knowing they’ve been told a lie.
-How is school?
That question was pushing it as hard as she could, mom trying really, Sisyphean hard.
She must be distressed beyond the point of repair to try this hard.
***
Hope never had any problems in school, other than her absolute and total lack of interest in it.
It was a fact of life that the grades would be in perfect condition.
She learned how to impress her new teachers in one town they had lived in after another, by actually studying here and there for the duration of first couple of weeks.
When the halo effect was in place, she would continue to keep it up with the least of effort possible. She never developed an inclination or desire for attaching herself to people or places.
She had counted too many times corners of the new room sleeping in a new bed for the first time to learn how to attach anyhow.
Except here.
Somehow, this wretched godforsaken and nearly exterminated town was the one she felt she might one day feel good enough to call a sort of a hometown.
A place to come back to one big shiny nostalgic day marked with a large red X in the calendar.
Just the small matter of getting out of first left to figure out, then.
***
And she had friends, those two souls that were the extremes of the same city-infested spirit which she learned how to love, and which was, in return, teaching her how to be loved back.
-Fine. The school is fine. Mom, can I ask you a question?- now where in the world did that come from, Hope wondered.
Mimicry.
When trying to mimic a behavior, nature of the one mimicking evolves and it truly becomes the mimicked one.
She was now pushing even harder.
But, she did have a question formed in her mind, just never expected to ask it out loud.
Her mother said yes not raising her head, deep in pursuit of that one tiny misplaced number that could bring the whole system down and have tectonic consequences if not found.
-Did father and you ever visit that village where he was born?
Mother was looking at her now.
-No. Why?
- I think someone in the refugee camp said how they were from that village .
-I thought it was deserted long time ago.
Well, now most certainly it was. Her kind was driving her other kind out. Thoroughly.
Hope got up, and was relieved when, without raising head or eyes, silently allowing her to go and hide from more possible affection in the safety of her room, mom said goodnight.
***
She needed a cigarette but those wretched Romanian Top Specialitete ones that managed to survive only because they were un-smokable even amidst nicotine crisis were nowhere to be found.
As she lifted heaps of books in desperate attempt to maybe find a long ago miraculously lost and forgotten at least one fuckin' ciggarette, c'mon, somewhere among them, she glanced through the window too see what the murmur coming through was about and realized that there were many people in the room on the first floor of the building opposite her, and that the equipment setting looked totally different now.
Him.
She had almost totally forgotten about him.
His arms his hands his heart that beats.
Oh. Shit.
***
There was a drum kit with a drummer tucked in one corner and keyboards and laughter and mumbling mix of many voices and dancing shadows she could see through the window on the left now.
And, behind the door number two, as she turned her head to look through the window on the right side, there he was, looking up, facing outside, standing in the middle of the room, hands crossed and palms placed on his shoulders, obviously waiting for the band to gather around him and for them all to start.
Like two kids who stole the forbidden candy snack from the ceramic jar, feeling that special conspiracy bond and high on the rush of fearing getting caught and punished for being guilty of how sweet the crumbs stuck between their teeth still tasted on the tip of the tongue, they looked at each other for the longest while.
Defrost girl, signal something, anything, everything you are feeling right now, for the love of God, Pope, Allah and roaring Perun.
She was loosing balance fast, but their eyes remained locked ,and she filled her lungs with air like a parachuter the moment before he jumps out, knowing that the parachute is broken but still jumping, in the frenzied insanity of the ultimate overdose of pure adrenalin.
She smiled and her smile said Hi.
He unfolded his arms and the time passed so slowly that she could actually see the sleeves of the T-shirt unwrinkling the folds one by one, like waves in a distance of a quiet lake that reflected the hints of the silver moonlight.
He blinked forever, and then he smiled.
And the smile said Please little girl take me I am a smile.
***
The floor was the quicksand and she hung onto their locked eyes as if that was a rope thrown by the lucky chance traveler to save her dear life.
Mom opened the door and entered the room, making her turn around reflexively, against her will, and curse the timing on that woman , while vigorously embedding the corners of his lips into a newly activated small nod in her short-circuiting brain.
-Sasha was looking for you earlier and asked you to drop by.
The turning around had made her dizzy, and she felt her feet were heavy as she pulled them out from the wet, sticky mud.
The music of the band began, signaling the end of the scene.
Exit left, just like Snagglepuss.
Hope was able to speak again. Or at least she thought she was, because she only managed to blurt out barely understandable response to mom's intrusion.
- Thanks mom.
Thanks a lot, mom. I just got a smile that said it was a smile.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
That's right.
Now say something.
-I'll go see him right away. Perhaps it's important.
Mom nodded and turned around and left the room and closed the door.
Hope closed her eyes but the eyes still heard his smile and the tide swept through her trembling body and it took her a good few minutes before she was able to swim back to the shore.
I just gave and got back a smile.
The smile that said please and then the universe in all of its quantum glory collapsed to its knees.
**
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