Balloons

You kind of have to read the prolouge first to under stand this. link:

Balloons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            The music played loudly in my ears, as it almost always did. My mom made a point of telling me it wasn’t good to have an obsession like that at the age of twenty. But it was happening either way. She stopped bugging me when I moved out of the house and got my own apartment. I laid on my bed, playing with my dog, Superman. Superman barked playfully. He was a small, white, little creature, so there was some debate about how fitting his name was.

            I faintly heard the knock on my door.

            “S**t.”

            I looked around my small room. In the middle was a twin sized bed, layered in dirty clothes. A sheet was crumpled at the bottom. My dresser was littered with scetches and old soda cans. And the floor was nonexistent, covered in Superman’s toys and my books.

            To make it all better, I had no air contidtioning in the apartment because I had no job and could barley afford the rent to stay here. A small, lame fan was in the corner, blowing around my loose scetches. Thankfully, none of them were collodge papers; I barley made it through high school and was certainly not going to waste half of my life on college.

            Obviously, my house was not presentable.

            I could only hope it was Iggy.

            I tip-toed over to the door and pressed my hands on the door. Getting onto my toes, I peered into the peephole.

            The was Iggy, leaning against the wall outside my door.

            I stepped back and opened the door casually.

            “Hey,” I said, smiling.

            “Hi.” He smiled, still leaning against the wall.

            I frowned. “Aren’t you gonna come in?”

            “Hopefully.”

            My eyebrows creased, then I realized it was because I was blocking the doorway. I quickly stepped aside. "Sorry..."

            “Thanks.”

            He walked into my place and closed the door, leaning down to give me a kiss. Then it was Superman’s turn to get attention. Iggy scooped him up in his arms, plopping down onto my squeaky bed.

            “So, what’ve you been up to?” Iggy asked.

            “The usual nothing.” I said, picking up a scetch from the ground.  “You?”

            “Aw… lets see…” He paused. “Um… nothing.”

            I smiled, crawling on the bed behind him. I toyed with his messy blonde hair. “When’s the last time you got this cut?” I asked, pulling a bunch between my fingers.

            “When I was four… Maybe.”

            I scowled. His hair wasn’t even past his ear. “When did you really get it cut?”

            “Oh… gosh… four moths ago?”

            “You should get it cut.”

            He shrugged. “Don’t you like my hair?” Iggy turned his head to see me.

            “Yes.”

            He grinned toothily and turned back around, resuming his fight with Superman. “Do you wanna go to dinner tonight?”

            “Sure. Sounds like fun,” I said in my normal, mellow tone.

            “Cool. If we go now we can stop at the park on the way.” He shrugged. “Just an idea.”

            Abnormally, the park sounded like fun. “Definatly.”

            I didn’t want to bother getting into some nice clothes. Jeans and a tank top were enough. I grabbed my book bag of a purse and slung it over my shoulder.

            “Lets go,” I said, smiling.

            Iggy raised a brow, looking at my legs.

            “What?” I asked, looking down as well. Oh yeah. I was still in my underwear. “I’m should go put some pants on…” I said.

            Iggy laughed loudly.

            “Its really hot in here, okay?” I yelled defensively, laughing as well.

            He waved me off.

            I came back, fully dressed this time. “Okay now can we go?” I asked. He nodded, still chuckling, and followed me out of my apartment.

           

            It was a nice day, nice enough to get ice cream for dinner instead of going out to a resteraunt. Which we did.

            I got vanilla and Iggy got half and half.

            I shuddered.

            “What?” Iggy asked, licking his ice cream.

            “How can you eat that?” I asked, slipping my free hand into his.

             “By many years of expereience,” he joked. Iggy squeezed my hand, laughing.

            “How could you muddle such a devine flavor with dirt flavor?”

            He shrugged. “It’s good.”

            We walked through the small park in New York, enjoying the weather.

            “Oh my god,” I whispered, my eyes locked on the ballon stand. It seemed like such a long time ago that me and Iggy had last gotten balloons.

            “What?” Iggy asked, trying to read my eyes. He followed them, connecting it to the stand.

            “Balloons!” I squeaked. I wasn’t the squeaky type, but this I was willing to squeak for.

            He laughed, walking us over to the ballon stand.

            “What color?” He asked me, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet.

            I bit my lip. They were all so pretty….

            Before I could answer, Iggy did for me. “We’ll have one of each color, please,” he told the man, charming him with his smile.

            “Sure,” the man said, and began untying the ballons. He handed them to me, and I took them quickly. “I once saw a couple who wanted em all, no doubt for a birthday party. Got me a fortune, but nothing like a million dollars.” The man sighed. “If I did have a million dollars righ’ now, I would give it to the hospital. Poor people… not many people made it out of the fire.”

            My heart sunk. Because of me. Yes, it felt terrible. But over the past few years of this, I had learned to put what It did behind me. Never had this happened. Never had it been brought up again. Not infront of Iggy. I felt the tears stinging in my eyes.

            “You alright there, sweety? Didn’t mean to say anything-“

            Iggy slammed the money down hard on the table. “She’s fine.”

            He took me by my shoulders gently, confused. Of course he was. He didn’t know.

            We walked until we reached  bench, and he sat us down. This wasn’t right. I just wanted to enjoy my ballons with Iggy.

            “You okay?” He asked, tying the balloons to the arm of the bench. I nodded.

            “Yeah. Its just… sad.”

            “I… didn’t know things like this upset you.”

            I could hear the shame in his voice. He thought he knew all about me, after two years. I had hurt him.

            “We can… uh… go check it out, see if we can help?” He suggested desperately.

            No. I never wanted to go back to that place. “No,” I said quickly. I needed to lie. “I’m not upset about anything. I’m crying because…” Because what? I couldn’t get all gooey and sentimental, and I couldn’t get all caring. That jut wasn’t me. I kept a low profile, a quiet, mellow, careless one.

            “Because what?”

            I leaned up and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing my lips to his. He put his arms around me, not questioning any further. I closed my eyes and put my head in his chest. “Hi,” I whispered.

            “Hi.” He whispered in my hair.

            I smiled and let my hair fall into my wet face.

            “Well, lets see…” Iggy said conversationally, changing the subject in his Iggy sort of way. “Today my mom got me a fish.”

            I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Really?” I asked, tucking my dark hair behind my ear. 

            He nodded. “Yeah. ‘S like I’m in middle school all over again.”

             “Do you not like fish?” My eyebrows creased.

            “Sure,” he nodded. “but its just the fact the my mom had to get it for me…”

            My mom never got me anything. To me, he was lucky. “Whats his name? What type is he?”

            “Phyllis is a girl, and she’s a… goldfish.”

            “Hmm…” I sat up, pulling my feet under my legs. “Phyllis. That’s an interesting name.”

            He looked at me, and his jaw dropped. “You don’t like that name?” Iggy shouted.

            “No.”

            Iggy barked a laugh. “Whatever.”

            I grinned, leaning over to give him a kiss. He put his arms around me and pressed his warm lips against mine. I reached behind him and untied the balloons. He pulled back, and we laughed, watching the balloons float up into the air.

            The green one caught a tree, the red one popped, and the blue one was snatched up by a kid, and then the yellow and purple balloons were the only two floating up.

            “Thanks guys!” The kid yelled to us, waving over his shoulder. He had the blue balloon in his hand. Then he ran off after his mom. I put my head against Iggy’s chest.

            “I bet on the yellow one,” I said.

            Iggy and I usually bet on which balloon would make it the farthest; usually we only had two. Today we had five, and evidently only two made it.

            “Purple.” Iggy then patted my head. “But don’t worry. I won’t brag when mine disappears first.”

            I rolled my eyes. “And I won’t cry when you do.”

            We laughed.

            I closed my eyes.

            “Tell me who wins,” I said lightly.

            “If you insist.”

Author's Note

ignore spelling