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Remembering Bianca (Part 2) |
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Lionel walked over to me. I turned my head, pretending to be so focused on my painting that I didn't notice him. I even began to sing quietly to myself. I've been singing more and more lately. If I used my voice enough, I didn't cry as much. "......Juniper." "What do you want, Lionel? I'm busy painting." "Your painting can wait. It's about Bianca." "Oh, your partner. That's who Bianca was, right? Your partner. Some assignment. Fine, you thought. It's a class assignment. Big freaking deal, huh? Just another one of those annoying things you can't change." I dipped my brush into the red paint and spread it across the ground below the child. She was bleeding. "Juniper, I did try. I cared about her." "Of course you cared. Her life was your responsibility, as yours was hers. And because your life was her responsibility, she died. She just went ahead, accepted death, and left us with nothing. Accepted that it was just one of those things she couldn't change. She was like you, in that way. You two, you just didn't know when it was okay to try and change something. At least she did it to save someone." Lionel looked away then and clutched something in his hand. ".....Not nothing. She left this for me." At this, he held up a tiny crystal. It seemed to shine a thousand different colors at once. I stared at the lovely jewel, and right away knew what it was. "Her teardrop...?" I reached out and rested my fingertip against the diamond, Bianca's last gift. It glowed even more strongly. The air around us encircled us, like a twister. The air seemed to be all the colors of the tear. I stood in the center with Lionel, with the tear. A whisper came from the tear. He tried, Juniper. It's not his fault. It's the curse. We all knew it... The air died down, and I took my finger away from the jewel. My eyes filled with tears. But my tears were nothing like Bianca's. Her tears were pure and innocent. Mine were tears of guilt and grief. I had been horrible, blaming Lionel for Bianca's death, and for accusing him of not caring for her. How could I have done something so terrible? There was no way he'd ever be able to forgive me for my wild accusations. Besides, even if he did, I would never forgive myself. I fell to my knees, weeping for Bianca, for Lionel. He petted my hair a few times, then crouched down and whispered in my ear. "I hope your picture turns out well." I sat there, tears still flowing, but no longer sobbing. I waited until Lionel left the room, then tore the picture from my easel and rested it on the bed. That picture wasn't important right then. I dipped my brush into the paint and got to work.
TO BE CONTINUED......
 FN Pixie · Sat May 10, 2008 @ 03:11pm · 1 Comments |
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