The Continuation

He could not quite shake off the feeling that they were drifting apart; when she talked about her life, Wes listened to her intently (although he could not follow half of the things she said). He asked her relevant questions, making it clear to her that whatever she thought of him, he was genuinely interested in what was going on in her life. However, when Wes talked about his life, Annabel listened initially. Eventually though, he sensed that Annabel either did not listen or was not interested; her eyes would glaze over, she would begin fiddling her hair, or just say the occasional “hm”, without any enthusiasm. Whenever Wes noticed this, he would stop talking and start asking Annabel questions. Wes wondered if he had been the listener and she the talker throughout the duration of their relationship; looking back, he did not recall that Annabel used to be like this. Maybe they were drifting apart, or she had grown bored of him.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

Whatever the reason, Wes believed that Annabel had entered his life for a reason, and he was not going to let her go so easily.

He was thinking about this during the Wednesday’s chemistry lesson. They were learning to count in chemistry, and since everyone in the class was tired from a long day’s schoolwork, they were doing exercises that their teacher had given them. Wes stared blankly at the exercise sheet in front of him. After some time passed, he made a halfhearted attempt at solving this exercises. The rest of the class, free from the supervision of their teachers, and arranged themselves in groups, already talking about the upcoming programme for the weekend. On the board, a mischievous student had changed “Chemistry Test Friday” to “Chemistry Test Never”. Looking out the window, the sunny weather, rare during Autumn in Kent, had swiftly changed to pouring rain. Wes saw a few students trapped in the rain, trying to make their way across the school buildings for a lesson. Wes turned his attention to the exercises in front of him again. His mind started spinning; what had happened to summertime Annabel? Was she still interested in him? How on Earth did people pronounce “stoichiometry”? He grabbed his head with his hands, as if to make his mind concentrate on one thing. It did not work. That nauseating feeling crept up on him again; this time it was too much. He felt his throat clench up, as if something was trying to force itself up. He stood up, feeling that his knees were too weak to support him; his upper body seemed detached from the lower part, as he tried to run, and stumbled forward, his legs not obeying him. He eventually regained posture, and ran out into the rain. Not caring if the entire school saw him throwing up, well outside, the urge to vomit died out; it was as if the rain had refreshed him, washing away any nausea with it. The rain also seemed to refresh his senses. Just like that, the answer hit him as if it were a lightning bolt ascending from the sky. It made sense to him; it was now so tangible to him, so crystal clear that he wondered how on Earth he could have missed it. The signs had been there all along. Now that he looked back, he wondered if anyone else could have been so gravely mislead as he had been.

Annabel had someone else.

As the nights grew longer and longer, the days grew shorter and shorter. The schooldays rolled by and the students had got adjusted to it. Soon, the post lamps lining the streets of Kent lit up the sky during the evenings, as if they somehow were synthetic stars, guiding people on their way home. People were not out for as long, as if the darkness scared people. Halloween approached, which meant that children went trick or treating; for the adolescents who had passed this stage, it was a custom that the richest, graduating student held the annual Halloween party. It was a masquerade, and so the girls competed to see who could acquire the most stylish, sophisticated mask and dress. The boys, on the other hand, chose to compete by seeing who could score the highest in a game of beer pong. Wes, who was not one for drinking, planned to go together with his friends to see what happened. He had asked Annabel to go with him, but she had told him that she had planned to go there with her friends. Although he did not let it show, he grew more suspicious of her, wondering if by “her friends” she really meant “him”. After, she had shown him the dress that she was planning on wearing. His mind wandered off, but he nodded to Annabel, agreeing with her that it would fit her perfectly.

He was right.

In school the Friday the party was supposed to be held, the excitement buzzed in the air, as people longed for school to finish so they could go on break. People acted friendlier towards another and groups of friends stood talking enthusiastically to each other, discussing their plans for their upcoming, well deserved break. Wes had felt these past few weeks, ever since his discovery, like a zombie. He felt indifference towards all decisions he made, no matter how small. It felt like he was just existing, not feeling anything. Well, except maybe for indifference. He was listening to what people were saying, not really taking it in; with the occasional nod, people did not notice how he felt.

At home, Wes had planned on how to confront Annabel down to the very last detail. She would probably be hanging out with her friends, so he would observe her, to see if and when she left the group. Alone, Wes planned to pull her into a room or a space of some kind, so they could talk privately. Satisfied with his plan, he rummaged his wardrobe to see if he had anything to suit this event. Eventually, he pulled out a black tuxedo, lined with white – if he was going to confront her about what had happened the past few weeks, he at least wanted to look good. He wondered for a brief moment where he had left his mask from last year’s party. Then he remembered that he had placed them in the top drawer in his bedside table, where he also placed his ties. He took out his plain, black mask and sat down on his bed for a moment. Caressing the mask, he tried to remember who he had been before the summer, before he had met Annabel. People that knew him well described him as the decent kind of guy that would stay behind to keep someone who was alone company. Those who did not know him, well, they usually described him as the quiet kind of person who stayed in the background, content to stay there. He looked in the mask, trying to cling on to any memory that would provide him with an explanation. It was as though he was hoping that something as hollow as himself would sympathise with him. But the hollow pair of eyes that looked back at him could not provide him with an answer. They simply stared back at him, as if asking him how he thought an inanimate object such as a mask could ever interact with him to produce an answer. Interrupting his thoughts, a car loudly parked itself in a neighbour’s garage. Wes looked up and looked down again at the mask, wondering what he was doing, wondering if he was slowly but steadily going crazy.

Johnny attended his last year at Kent’s local school. His parents did not originally come from the neighbourhood, but had moved from London, as the parents felt like it was too much of a hassle trying to raise a family in such a cramped living space. The father had made a fortune by starting a company constructing and selling fishing material. This of course was much needed in Kent, but the company also sold a lot of merchandise in the rest of the country as well as overseas. The success of the father’s company meant that the family could afford to move into the fancier parts of town. The mother of the family had chosen a large, white mansion, complete with red rose bushes adorning the front side and a large, metal gate to keep intruders out. In the family, Johnny was the youngest, and his older siblings had the pleasure during their days of school to host the annual Halloween party. This year, it was Johnny’s turn and he planned to live up to the family’s reputation. In fact, he decided to topple it, by giving the adolescents living in Kent a party that they would never forget. His older siblings had let the party rip; Johnny remembered seeing the post-party evidence (including a trashed swimming pool and motorcycle parked in the living room) after his siblings had hosted the party. Now, it was his turn to shine.

The party was officially starting at eight, but everyone knew that only the ordinary students arrived at this time. The celebrities of the school, the popular crowd, arrived two hours later, bringing the spirit of the party with them. Only then could the party truly start. Not sure of his social status in school, Wes was unsure what to do. First year of school, he was one of the first to arrive, and he left before the party reached its climax. Last year, he arrived later, and stayed later. He remembered that at the time he felt that this responded to his social status, and made a mental note to himself. The situation was somewhat different now. Meeting and introducing Annabel to school must have heightened his social status; he was sure of it. However, Annabel had time and time again chosen to go out with her friends, leaving Wes unsure of both the status he had in school but also the status of their relationship. Then, of course, there was the sneaking feeling he had that Annabel was cheating on him. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Why on Earth was a gorgeous girl like Annabel doing with him, when she had the entire school to pick from? Wes knew that the only way to know for sure was to confront her, and hope that she was telling him the truth. He put on his clothes quickly, and glanced at the mirror to see his reflection. The mirror showed his tall, skinny silhouette; suddenly he felt self conscious, as Annabel used to tease him that he should eat more, because he was as thin as a twig, and she did not like boys with woody qualities. Shaking his head as if to get rid of the thoughts, he clumsily grabbed for the mask, and slid it on. Much better. The mask fit him much better than it had last year, he thought; the mask added a mysterious air to his appearance, and if he might say so himself, he looked quite handsome. This single act had served to remove all doubts he had about his features. He turned around, looking at the mirrored image from different angles, as if inspecting which one worked the best for him. After he was satisfied, he glanced up at the clock, and realised that it would be now or never. Grabbing for his carkeys, the door closed softly behind him as he started for the stairs. After leaving through the front door, he walked determinedly up to his car, as if practicing on confronting Annabel. He looked up in the sky, as if asking some higher power to help guide him. He opened the door, and quickly shoved his carkeys into his pocket. Driving down the streets, he could not help but to think that the evening was extraordinary beautiful. For many others arriving to the same party, there was an unspoken promise hanging in the air, as if someone was ensuring that this party was going to be enjoyable. Wes might had been ecstatic like the others who felt this promise, had his mind not been elsewhere.

Wes entered the gates which were opened wide. Wes wondered if anyone would be arriving in a limousine. It would not surprise him. He parked his car in the back of the mansion, just like everyone else did. Looking around to see what kind of people had arrived, Wes quickly gathered that he arrived earlier than he had intended too. His hands formed fists – his social status was confirmed. He hoped that it was not the same for his relationship. A group of girls a couple of years below him were going in his direction. Wes had no intention in becoming the object of attention for them, so he scurried into the house, looking around to see if there was anyone he recognised. Stepping in the elegantly lit parlour (it was obvious that this family hosted many parties of this kind), he scanned the area to figure out what he could do next to kill some time. There was an older group of boys talking intently to each other, but they looked like a such a tight group that Wes did not feel it was possible to join them. There were also a group of mixed boys and girls, messing about with the music equipment. By the punch, a boy he vaguely recognised from his maths class was sitting all alone, as if he was waiting for someone. Wes walked up, and poured himself a glass. He knew he took a chance – last year, at the end of the party (after Wes had left it), someone had spiked the punch with such a strong substance that five people had ended up in hospital, getting their stomachs pumped. However, he knew that the chances of the punch being spiked were minimal – there were so few people there that a culprit would easily had been detected. He sat down next to the boy.
“Hey, I recognise you, you’re that guy I have calculus with“, he said excitedly, as if he could not believe his luck that someone would actually sit down next to him.
“That’s true”, Wes said, trying, but failing, to sound equally excited.
“I guess we’re both losers, huh”, he said, staring into his cup, before downing it in a single gulp.
“I suppose”, Wes said flatly. He looked down into his cup. It was green, with a mixed assortment of candy, berries and fruit floating around in it. It did not look that appetising to him. He looked out over the dance floor, hoping that during the past three minutes more people ¨would have shown up. This was not the case.
“You waiting for someone?” The boy asked him.
“Yes, I am waiting for my girlfriend”, Wes replied.
“Oh. Oh yeah, she’s that hot, Norwegian girl right?” Wes could tell if he had meant it as a question or as a statement. “Wow. You’re really lucky. She’s older than you too, right?”
“No, we’re the same age. She’s just skipped a class”.
“Oh”. The boy stood up to get more punch.
Then he saw her.

The dress looked better on Annabel than it had by itself. In fact, Wes could not imagine that the dress would fit anyone more perfectly than it did Annabel. The silver mask she was wearing illuminated her eyes, making them even bigger and brighter. As she entered the room with her friends, a slow and sultry tune was playing on the stereo. Wes wondered if it was on purpose. Her friends walked past him, as did Annabel. She had not seen him. Inside, Wes felt something fall part. He did not know whether it was the punch, or whether it was Annabel that caused this feeling. Wes endured two more hours of listening to the boy from his math class taking about all sorts of things, from how he loved birdwatching and that he was so lucky to live in Kent to how he single-handedly had managed to drink several pints of alcohol without vomiting. Listening with mild interest, Wes was straining to look over to spot a chance to confront her. Instead, he got to see her laugh with her friends, obviously over something that they had experienced. Wes hated not being a part of that experience.

Then, as if from nowhere, Annabel got up, heading for the garden. Wes stumbled up, almost knocking over the chair he had been sitting on in the process. He heard that the boy who had been talking to him yelling something from behind his back that he was a dick and that he could go to hell.

She looked even better in moonlight than she had in sunlight. The cold light of the moon was reflected in her hair, which almost seemed to sparkle. Now more than ever, she truly looked like an ice queen. Wes stood frozen for a while, not knowing what do. He then took a deep breath, and walked determined up to her.
“Hi”, he greeted her.
“Hey”, she turned around, almost pleased to see him. “What’s up?”
Taken aback with the question, Wes did not know what to answer. Did she mean generally, or them?
“Brilliant” he said confidently, although this was as far away from the truth as an answer could possibly be.
“Great.” She studied him for a while, as if she had difficulties reading him. “Look, I know I haven’t been there for you recently. Wes thought that this was somewhat of an understatement. “A few things have come up”. She looked out over the horizon.
“What things?” Wes asked curiously, wondering if she was finally going to admit what she had been up to.
“Stuff”, she answered simply. Wes waited for a more detailed answer. It did not come.
“Cindy says-”
“Who’s Cindy?” Wes asked, interrupting her.
“That’s Cindy” Annabel said plainly, pointing towards a girl inside the house. Wes nodded. “Anyways, Cindy says that all friends need to connect with each other to grow. Do you know what I mean”.
“Uh-huh”. Wes tried following her. Truth was that he did not have much experience with girls, let alone decoding their language.
“So, I think we should meet at my house tomorrow. My grandparents are away, which will give us a perfect opportunity to talk in private. Does that sound good to you?” She looked directly at him now. Wes realised that she wanted a reply for him.
“Yeah. Yeah sure”, he said hastily.
“Great!” She beamed at him, producing a smile that showed most of her pearly white teeth. She bounced in again to the room. Wes sat there for a moment, processing what had happened. It seemed to him that although he had planned on confronting her, she had postponed confronting him so that she could spend even more time being with the popular crowd. Wes clenched his jaw, and slammed his fist onto a marble statue. This action would normally have caused him a great deal of pain, but the past event acted to darken his senses. It was as if a dark force had taken possession of him, cleansing him of any harmony and keeping in his anger. He knew instantly that he needed to cool off. He then realised that he had been here two times before, and not actually taken in the surroundings. He looked over the horizon. The mansion was quite near water; Wes calculated that it was, what, a walking distance of two hundred metres? He then saw the large pool, the central piece of the outdoor area, complete with a waterfall and a separate Jacuzzi. He shook his head at the materialistic abundance, before deciding that it was best to call it an early night.

He woke up in a daze, by his alarm clock that he had forgot to turn off. Damn it, he thought, as he switched it off and turned over the covers, retreating back to sleep. He tossed and turned, but eventually deemed that it was no use. He then remembered what he was supposed to be doing today, and sat upright in his bed, switching on his cell phone. Annabel had texted him that they could meet over dinner. Wes groaned. He knew that this day was not going to be a productive one.

The hours rolled by. Nothing seemed to happen. Wes felt as though he was watching paint dry. Then, when he saw that it was rime to go met her, he stood up. He looked himself in the mirror before going. Gone with the mask was also his confidence. He sighed, before turning out the door.

The sky rolled before him as he drove his car. He was quietly drumming on the steering wheel, as if to calm down his nerves. He turned in on Annabel’s street and parked his car. Suddenly, a flashback hit him. He remembered when on the first day of school, he had driven in on this particular spot, and watched her graciously walk out the door. The flowers were now replaced with dead slumps of grass, silently awaiting the arrival of snow. Wes locked his car and tried to shake these memories of off him. Walking up to the front door, he noticed a note was attached to it:
“I’m out shopping for groceries. The key is in the pot next to the fuchsia. Make yourself at home. I’ll soon be back.”
Wes read and reread the note. The curly handwriting was unmistakably Annabel’s. The absence of any affection in the letter upset him. No “love”, no “kiss”. Not even “hug”. Wes crumpled the note and put it in his back pocket. He fished out the key from the pot and unlocked the door, before entering.

The house was dark. Lining the walls were photos of Annabel and her family in Norway (he only knew this because she had shown him pictures of them). To the left there was a kitchen. To the right was a living room. Wes decided to get a glass of water. The kitchen itself was not so remarkable. The wallpaper was a bleached yellow, studded with the occasional scarlet flower. There was a gas stove, and a large fridge. Wes poured himself a large glass of water, and drained it almost immediately. He looked around, wondering what else there was to do. He started going up the stairs. On the landing, a large window overlooked the outside premises. He could see most of the neighbours and the view stretched as long as to the woods. When he had driven there it had been sunset, but now the sun had disappeared, allowing darkness to fall in its place. Continuing, Wes passed a large bedroom, which he assumed belonged to the grandparents. Just opposite it was a bathroom. He continued even further down, before noticing another bedroom. Wes paused in front of it. What struck him the first was how tidy and neat the room was. It was so different from his known; he was the posterboy of the term “messy teenager”. It was decorated with wallpaper in blue tones, reminding him of the ocean. There was a smell in the room, fruity and fresh but not too sweet either. There was a silver cdplayer in the corner. In the other corner, a bookcase was parked. However, the centrepiece of the room was a large white, wooden desk, parked in front of a window. On it, a pink laptop rested as well as a notebook.

It was Annabel’s room.

Not knowing what to do, Wes realised that this was the first time he got to see it. They had always spent time outdoors, or somewhere else. When they chose to stay indoors, they had always stayed at his place. Only once had he actually been inside her house, and that was when he was waiting for Annabel so that they could go and pick up her grandmother from the hospital. He could not resist the temptation of curiosity, and so, he stepped in. It felt very intimate to him, as if this room represented her true essence, what she was all about. He looked at a calendar posted on a wall. It was crammed with special dates. Squinting, Wes saw that most of them said something like “Slumber party at Natalie” or “Party at Pablo’s”. Only one square was encircled with his name on it for that month. He slumped down on her bed. He looked over at the desk. Suddenly, he found himself staring at her notebook. Something was compelling him to move towards it. Next thing he knew, he was flicking through it. Then he saw what he had been dreading all along.

It was staring him in the face.

For tomorrow, she had written “Date with Johnny” in pink capitalised letters. He breathed out raspy, uneven breaths. Cold sweat was starting to form on his forehead and back. With shaky hands, he stretched the band holding together the notebook over it and put it back. Yesterday’s events made it perfectly clear to him. Annabel had met Johnny and decided to break up with him, to go met Johnny the very next day. Not even giving him any time to get over it, Wes instantly knew that he meant next to nothing to her, if she could so easily get rid of him without any remorse. In an attempt to cool off, he sat down on her bed and withdrew his lighter from his back pocket. He flicked the flame on and off, thinking about how they had made contact. Annabel had approached him the very next day in the café, asking him if he smoked. He said that he did, although he lied, anything to get to know her. They were talking outside the café, and that was where the two of them hit it off. In sudden realisation, he dropped the lighter on the floor. He realised that the two of them had never been together, that her view on their relationship was purely platonic. Cursing himself, he drew a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt that the room was getting warmer and warmer. The air was getting thicker. He looked down at the floor.

In front of him, there was a large bright flame. It licked the wooden floor, coating it with a surface of black ashes. He stood frozen to the ground. Looking down, he saw his lighter in the midst of the flames, the metallic blue coating fading away. His eyes were tearing up. He saw the flame gradually develop into a fire, spreading itself around the bedroom, growing taller and fiercer. His initial terror was gradually replaced with indifference, the same indifference that inhabited him earlier, making him feel like a zombie. He stared at the fire for a long time, before slowly making his way to the front door, before remembering that there was a cat in the house. He saw it sitting by a window. He grabbed it scooped it up in his arms. The cat did not object. Wes might have noticed how the cat had so swiftly changed attitude towards him, had his mind not been elsewhere. Exiting, the house, he stumbled over the threshold, but quickly gained his balance, the cat safe in his arms. Once on the lawn, he put the cat in next to him. The fire matured, growing taller and taller, as in an attempt to reach the sky. He looked up at the house, the house that he just had burnt down. He looked sideways at the cat. It looked at him earnestly, with big blue innocent eyes. Still panting, he was thinking that it was just an accident, but his conscience could not deny him the truth.

The light reflected in his eyes, and a dizzy sensation soon settled in his mind, blurring his thoughts. He could hear the house falling apart on the inside, loud crashes that only seemed to strengthen the fire. Wes looked over at the car. He knew he had to ditch it. He looked over at the cat, not knowing what to do. Perhaps the cat would know.

He picked up the cat and drove in to the night, under a starlit sky.