Contrary to popular belief, I actually put quite a bit of thought in my clothing and general appearance. I made sure that my hair was short because I tried having it long, and hated taking care of it.
I never wore glasses, only contacts, because people always made fun of me for wearing them, and even broke them on a couple of occasions. So, I switched to contacts which couldn’t be broken that easily.
As for my clothes, they were the most particular of all. I never tried to hide my status as a hero fanboy–I couldn’t even if I wanted to–but I didn’t actually own much merchandise. That would make me stand out more than I wanted. So I always wore plain shirts and pants, with simple designs so I always blended into the background.
Most of that started after what happened with Maria. None of our classmates forgot that, and many even made sure it spread the story like I was some sort of menace or monster.
For a long time I was convinced that they were right and, by the time I was convinced I was anything other than that, I had grown to actually enjoy that style–if it could even be called that.
And I was now standing in front of a mirror in my parents’ bedroom wearing a burgundy dress shirt with dark blue pants and a belt. A fucking belt because this was my dad’s pants and it wouldn’t fit otherwise.
“I want you to know, Dad, I hate this,” I said to him, turning around to look him in the eye. Now, my dad was a large man, both in width and height, to the point where even I had to look up to look him in the eye.
“Don’t you be like that now, son,” said Dad with a hearty laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot. Take this as well.” He took out a fifty euro note from his pocket, handing it to me. I tried to protest and refuse, but he forced it in my hand.
“Dad, this is a lot. And the admission fee is like ten euros, with everything else being free.”
“Twenty,” said my dad admonishingly. “You aren’t going to let the little lady pay for herself, are you?”
I groaned in response. Excluding the fact that this was not a date, I was pretty sure that Birgit would freeze me if I offered something like that. Of course, I wasn’t going to say something like that to my father. He seemed genuinely happy that I was branching out and talking to more people. And that was something I didn’t want to ruin, especially after years of
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s all going to work out,” I said to him before I went to my room to pick up my phone. Seeing that it was nearly time, I put my phone, keys, inhaler, and money Dad gave me in my pocket.
I said goodbye to my parents as I went out to the bus stop to wait for Birgit. The neighbourhood I lived in was nice if I said so myself. It was all but next to the school, and it was quiet, with a bunch of trees, houses, and unbuild plots with unruly grass. Back when we were kids we’d play in those plots, mostly chasing each other around for no reason.
I clenched my fists at the memory. I wasn’t even eighteen years old, and yet whenever I thought of times like those, it felt like an entire lifetime had passed between then and now. I chuckled at the thought.
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“I really am hopeless, aren’t I?” I asked the empty street, as I looked down at my gloved hands. The root cause of everything that happened in my life for the past five years.
“Wow, it really must be customary to talk to yourself in this country,” came Birgit’s voice to my left in Greek, sounding surprisingly good at the language.
I turned around to reply with some sort of snarky remark which got stuck in my throat. She looked-she looked different was all I could say.
Her hair was let down to her shoulders, and she was wearing a sleeveless purple shirt–not too revealing, but enough to catch my attention–and shorts. She was also holding a small purse, probably to hold her things since it looked like she didn’t have any pockets on her outfit.
It was after her second cough that I realised I was staring at her for longer than I probably should have.
“You look good too, Alex,” she said with an eye roll. “I was under the impression you were a bit more–what’s the word you use in Greek–λογοέτοιμος?”
“Ετοιμόλογος,” I corrected her, continuing to speak in Greek. “Means you always have a response, no matter what the other person says. I’ve been told it can get annoying.”
“Interesting,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “So, will you lead the way or am I supposed to guess where we’re going?”
“Your patience astounds me,” I said to her in a deadpan tone before I started walking, gesturing for her to follow me. “How did you get here anyway? The last bus stop is a bit far and I don’t trust you not to get lost on the way.”
Birgit giggled in response. “I think you’re taking one event and blowing it out of proportion.”
“Birgit, I asked you to go to a place on the other side of the road to you, it doesn’t get worse than that,” I said in what was my best matter-of-fact voice,
“My stupid mom insisted that I not take the bus, so she arranged for someone to bring me here,” she huffed angrily.
“Lady Flame? She’s still here?” I asked excitedly before I could stop myself. She turned to glare at me, while I clasped my hands in front of my mouth.
“For helvede, you really are hopeless.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, the words muffled through my gloves.
Birgit put up one finger. “One question. After we’re done with this mess, we’ll go out and eat the best gyros your country can provide. There, you’ll be able to ask me one question about Lady Flame and I will answer it.”
There was a catch there obviously. I was sure that she wouldn’t answer any question related to Lady Flame. I certainly couldn’t ask about why she didn’t seem to like the woman, but I could probably come up with a couple quadrillion questions.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said–more out of kindness than anything. Of course I wanted to learn something new about Lady Flame, but I also knew that Birgit didn’t like to discuss her family in any way.
“Yeah, I do,” she responded off-handedly. “I think you’ll just chicken out otherwise.”
As if on cue, we reached the school. Well, not quite, but it was now visible down the road, at most half a minute away, but I still found myself stopping. An empty plot was next to it, and a kiosk on the opposite side.
It was my school and neighbourhood.
So why was I feeling myself get lost while looking at it? I wheezed out a small breath and stumbled back. Iraklis was more than likely not going to react negatively to my appearance. Even Maria said that he wanted to reconcile.
But I still didn’t know what to say. Or even how I felt beyond the fact that I didn’t want to lose Iraklis as my friend. I was probably overreacting, but I felt that if I messed things up again, then there was no coming back.
A bit melodramatic? More than likely yes.
Enough to stress me out so much so that I was at the beginning of an asthma attack? Also yes. I took out my inhaler, breathing in its contents before letting out a strong cough and putting it back in.
“Let’s do this,” I said under my breath, picking up pace as we arrived at the school.