#12 TEN FEET OFF THE GROUND
Mia didn't realise how she came into Sebastian's apartment. She trusted him although she couldn't explain it to herself in any way. She was busy with problems on her mind. She tried to look normal although chaos and doubts ruled inside. Sometimes you have to trust your own feelings and follow the direction, which is offered, on impulse. Mia didn't feel anything but fear right now. She had the feeling it started again. She was convinced of it.
That was the scariest part. How do you know whether a feeling is right or wrong? If you have a fact you can prove it, you can document it in a scientific way, you can demonstrate it by formulas or bring proof. If you have a feeling, you have nothing in your hand. You just have an assumption, which can lead you directly to your goal, or to the opposite, it can throw you off your course. If you have a feeling, you can trust it or you can doubt it. In addition, if you have a presentiment you don't want to lose your last hope. In every situation, you need hope to be able to believe that there is much more than just the accountable mechanism of life. You have to keep your motivation alive, which makes you open your eyes after a long, unsettled sleep and which brings you through the day.
She noticed a cup of tea in her hands and drank it. She couldn't say whether it was cold or warm, she didn't feel the taste of it, she just wanted to come back to reality. Sebastian looked at her, worried and asked whether the tea wasn't too hot. He had just made it.
She shook her head, but you couldn't really understand what answer she was thinking about.
-Do you want to talk about it? –asked Sebastian.
-No, I don't think so. - She whispered with certainty.
-You can stay here, I promise I will not do anything wrong.
She didn't answer. Even if she didn't know it, she was very able to fight. She used to be one of the best karate kids and she used to train alone a lot. She was just preparing herself for the worst-case scenario. She didn't know why, but she knew she had to be prepared.
But she couldn't spend the night there. What would her grandmother think? The only grandmother she had. The only one and the most distant one.
“You have a history and you have to avoid making your grandmother doubt you.”
That was her goal. Grandma Zofia had already suffered enough. And Mia was convinced she should thank for the care, it was very polite and maybe would have been even charming in different circumstances, but it was over. Now there was nothing else to say. Now grandma Zofia couldn't hear anything, never ever again.
All Mia wanted right now was to go out and breathe the cold air. She wanted to feel that she was still alive. She stood up and wanted to start talking, but her body wasn't reacting the way she wanted and planned. She was just 17 and the affliction she has been wearing almost her whole life was definitely too heavy for her. She had to sit down calmly and think about it. So far, she had tried to move every single thought about her past into the corner of her head where you store away all the stuff you will never need again. And this isn’t about some silly or sad occurrences, this is about feelings you never ever want to face again.
Mia had to distract herself somehow.
-Do you have another translation for me? –she asked Sebastian. She looked at him, well focused and saw the negative answer already coming.
And it was a negative answer. People don't work so much right before Christmas.
He saw the tiny bridge she wanted to build between them.
-How did it go with the last translation? Did you like the topic?
She answered with a flow of words, suddenly she was talking about the French revolution and prisoners from the Bastille and before even noticing it, she was already sitting in the main room on the couch and had taken off her jacket. She kept talking on and on, described the prisoners, the poor unfortunate souls, and described their sufferance, as it was her own. He was listening and hoping that he was doing nothing that could discourage her from talking. However, apparently she just couldn't stop talking and was mentioning details and emotions that he had never thought about before. She put her whole soul into this speech and he almost felt like he was suffering like the prisoners of the Bastille. She talked and talked and Sebastian was astonished: he never wanted to hear a girl talk so much!
Her voice was so beautiful and warm, he could listen to it for the whole eternity. He could hear her speaking for the whole time. Listening to her was like listening to his favourite music. She was like Tchaikovsky’s violin and piano concerts or music by Dvorak. And then, just a minute later, she was like Black Eyed Peas and Rihanna or like James Bond’s Martini: Shaken, not stirred.
Lovefool (Introduction) Page 13
