Foggy

And the two people rested on the couch. One was sleepy and tired the other was just under a grey cloud. They were two friends, at least - that’s what they think they are. The girl — or the one under the grey cloud — needed that simple thing called ‘help.’ Where is her self esteem? The other next to her, was a caring person. She didn’t see hidden intentions behind his helping, which is something she’s glad about.

“What are your goals in life?” he asked her finally, he closed his eyes on his side of the couch. He was still listening, but he was exhausted from his life at the moment. He was not unhappy… He just needed time to relax.

She didn’t need a pause to answer the question, “I want to put food on the table every night, have a career that can get me enough money to live and marry someone smart,” she whispered. “At least… That’s my realistic plan in life.”

“What’s the other plan?” the boy asked, eyes still closed and ears still open.

“Find a friend with benefits, have them work as I live in their home and I cook and clean for them,” she said with a smile to hide her true feelings towards that plan. She knew it was pathetic, but it honestly was a lifestyle that she thought would be comforting to have. At least, at the moment she thought it would be a nice way to live. Her opinions could change any second now.

He opened his eyes and looked at her with a confused and yet mocking look. She found disturbing pleasure in that look of his, she just loved his reactions.

“What about children?” he asked, that look had gone away and into a softer and more genuine one. “Don’t you plan on having kids?”

It was the first time she was asked such a question, she didn’t know how to handle it or what to say. She took a look at the couch’s arm rest and thought about an answer.

“I would like to, but… I wouldn’t know what to do for my children,” she confessed. There goes her self esteem once again.

“I think that you would be a good mother,” he commented.

It was surprising to her. She never expected such words to be said to her, it was hard to register in her little mind. “No way,” she shook her head, “I wouldn’t know how to deal and what to do for my kids. I don’t think I would be a good mother at all!”

“I think you would be a good mother,” he repeated.

The second time he said it, she felt a little better.

— — — — —

This conversation is so meaningful to me.