Page 54 of Paradox
Stuff still gets done, but it just kind of happens. Though I suppose after three weeks in such tight quarters, a routine is bound to form.
Eden is outside a lot during the day. He dug a track in the snow the whole way around the cabin and to the shed with a ramp leading towards the track to the lake. And he's obsessed with the solar panels. I swear he's up on the roof more than he's indoors. But aside from that, I don't know what he fills his time with because he sure as hell isn't inside with me.
In the evenings he sets aside what I can eat, and after he fixes something for himself, it's my turn in the kitchen. We eat in silence. We sit in silence. We do everything in silence. The cabin itself isn't quiet, though. Eden goes out of his way to have music blaring, or a movie on, or that damn PS3 on in an attempt to fill a space that shouldn't even be there. At leastIdon't think it should be there, but I have no say in the matter. So he keeps to his sideof the sofa, and I keep to mine. Rinse and repeat, ready for the next morning.
Sometimes I scream into my pillow when I think he's far enough away.
I'm so stupid for thinking this wouldn't happen. But I still let myself believe the next morning I'd wake up to the sound of him in the shower, then we'd sit and have breakfast together like I didn't watch him jerk off. Maybe a few days later he'd suggest it again—perhaps even offer to let me pick the DVD. I'd find one with a threesome with two guys, that way I wouldn't be too distracted by him. In my search I might have even found a random bisexual one he didn't know was in there. I could sneak it on while he was outside to distract myself from the delusion that I haven't always been into guys, and that I want to be Eden's cheerleader so freaking badly it's starting to hurt.
I've been standing in the middle of the cabin holding onto the handle of the carpet sweeper and staring out the front window for a while now. I want to move, but I've learned that if I do anything too quickly I only have to sit longer with my thoughts once I've run out of things to do.
Eden reappearing from behind the wall of snow triggers my movement, and I return the carpet sweeper to the cupboard under the stairs.
I spend so much of my time sitting on this damn sofa, but it still feels so good every time I sink into it. Reaching over the arm, I pick up Brave New World from the floor. Holding it up to my face, I fan through the pages and feel the air against my skin before opening it up and pressing my nose into its center. It smells no less amazing than every other time I've done this, but the satisfaction is always so short lived.
Pulling the book away from my face, I stare at all the tabs sticking out from the pages. I flick them with my fingertips, then search for the one I scribbled '17' on, and open it again.
???? ??? ?????? ??? ???? ???.
One believes something because one was conditioned to believe it.
I don't think that when my Halmae gave me this book it was her intention for me to fixate on this specific phrase, or any of the fifty other ones I've highlighted. But then again, maybe she did. Maybe at fifteen she could already see what I was struggling to express. Maybe she could already see how unhappy I was.
I open it at another tab.
?? ???, ? ??? ????? ???.
I am I, and I wish I weren't.
How do parents know what is best for their kids?
Why is it left up to them, with the government only stepping in if things get bad?
Why do so many people place such faith in something they can’t see, but give up believing in The Tooth Fairy while still in middle school?
??? ?? ?? ???. ?? ??? ? ???? ???.
I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.
Why do things like age, and sex, and race mean so much to so many people?
Why is the amount of money a person makes the only way of measuring success?
?? ? ??? ?? ???. ? ??, ??? ???.
I like being myself. Myself, and nasty.
I hear the screen door open and close, and keep my head down.
“How many fucking times have you read that book?” Eden asks before the cabin door is even closed behind him.
Shocked by the sound of his voice, my head shoots up, and I’m actually speechless for several seconds before replying, "It’s not like I have any other options.”
As he hangs his coat and beanie on one of the hooks beside the door, he tells me, "All you had to do is ask,” like that was all it was going to take to stop this ridiculous standoff. “What is it, anyway?”
“What? Oh. Brave New World.”
Eden makes his way to the storage cupboard and starts emptying its top shelf of all the backwards books. “I've never heard of it.”
