Chapter thirty-two – The Country She's In

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-Six days later-

It's been almost a week since Michael, Reiss and I all scattered the ashes of their family, and recently, Michael hasn't been himself at all. It's only since last night that he's been this way, but I don't like it. He's not been as affectionate, for a start – he hasn't cuddled with me, kissed me very often or seemed to want to spend time with me. I'm worried, to say the least.

I've tried speaking to him, but he has only tried to change the subject as soon as possible. He's distancing himself from me, just to avoid having a conversation regarding his feelings. I'm really confused.

At this moment in time, Michael's in the garden, whilst I'm in the living room. I can see him sat at the bottom of the tree trunk, because the living room window is quite large, and I can see clearly out of it. Maybe he'll be happier soon; there's always that phase of a day or two, when you just feel so low that you don't want to do anything. I've been through that, myself.

The telephone then rings, causing me to jump a little. Getting up out of my seat, I head into the hallway, where the phone is, before answering it.

"Hello?" I greet.

"Hello." The voice on the other side of the line sounds somewhat stern.

"Who is this?" I question politely, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear.

"My name is Marco. And yourself?"

My eyes widen in shock, as I swallow nervously. Is this Marco as in ... Clover-got-beaten-by-Uncle-Marco Marco?

"Uhm ... Citria. How did you get my numb—?"

"It wasn't that hard," he answers, interrupting my speech.

"Sorry to sound rude, but that doesn't really answer my ques—"

"Listen, Citria. You're Clover's cousin, aren't you?" His tone isn't inviting at all; in fact, it's rather the opposite.

"Um ... yes," I breathe, feeling slightly nervous. My hand is gripping tightly to the phone by now; the fingers of my other hand are pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I thought so. Now, I want you to tell me where she is. Would you do that for me?"

"Where she is?" I repeat, to buy myself some more time. Before continuing, I swallow once again. "But why?"

"Because I would like to see her. She's my niece, after all." His voice seems to soften a little, as if he's actually making an effort to be polite.

"You're her Uncle Marco?" I inquire, trying my hardest to sound casual.

"That I am. Anyway, do you know where she happens to be right now?" The way he changes the subject to the one he desires is rather impressive.

"Well, she's in America ... I know that much," I partly lie, twirling the curled phone wire around my fingers now. "A-And that's all I know."

"America!" he gasps, so loudly that I have to pull the phone away from my ear in reaction. "How the hell did she get all the way over to America?"

"I really don't know Sir," I respond anxiously, panic slightly rising within me. "Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the guy who ... um ... had the drinking problem? The one who, uh ... hurt Clover?"

"Where'd you get that from?" His tone is more angered than before, now, which scares me a little.

"I-I—nothing, nobody. I just heard it from somewhere. I-I don't remember where exactly."

Just then, Michael re-enters the house, furrowing his brows when he sees me on the phone. "What's happening?" he mouths silently.

That's the first time he's spoken to me since yesterday. I've missed it, in all honesty.

I cover the mouth piece of the phone. "I'm just talking to someone, Michael," I reply, before uncovering the speaker piece. "Sorry, Marco ... um ... I was just talking to my boyfriend."

Michael widens his eyes. "Marco!" he cries, rushing up to me. "Don't talk to him!" He snatches the phone from me, holding it up to his ear. Then, he makes a series of crackling noises with his mouth, to make it seem as if the line's breaking up. Before anything else can happen, he hangs the phone up, slamming it back on its receiver. He gives me a look of fury. "Why were you speaking to Marco!"

"I-I just answered the phone, that's all," I reply defensively, a natural forlorn look spreading across my face. "H-He was wondering where Clover is."

He rolls his eyes, face-palming quite literally. "You didn't tell him, did you? Oh Lord, please tell me you didn't tell him ... "

"Of course not," I assure him. "I only told him she's in America."

At this, he gives me a frustrated expression, flailing his arms around madly. "Why did you tell him that! Now he knows what country she's in!"

"But there's so many places here, Michael! He's not going to know what State she's in, let alone what town!" His anger is upsetting me now; it's not like I told Marco Clover's address.

He inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down. Sighing through his nose, he closes his eyes and nods. "Okay," he answers simply. "Fine."

"Why is it so bad anyway? He sounded quite polite," I reason a little. "Maybe he's not so bad any more."

Michael furrows his eyebrows once again, almost in disbelief. "No, no, no, Citria. There's no way he's changed in only a few months. He's still the monster Clover described; I have no doubt in my mind about that."

"But how do you know?" I press, moving closer to him. "Maybe we should tell Clover. Maybe she'll give him another chance. Maybe he and Reiss can be friends again, and it can be okay!" By now, I'm clutching his arm, which causes him to brush me off gently.

"It's not that simple, Cit. Just forget it, now." He gives a faint smile, dismissing the subject, but I'm still curious.

"Did he ever do anything bad to you?" I ask.

"Me?" He laughs a little – the first laugh in almost twenty-four hours. "Yes. He was born; that's bad enough for me."

"C'mon, seriously." My tone is more serious now.

"Well ... I wouldn't say that exactly." His eyes move to the floor. "But in a way ... yeah." After saying this, he remains silent.

"I don't understand," I admit, knitting my eyebrows together in confusion. "In what way, then?"

"It doesn't matter." He brushes the subject off, looking back up at me from the floor. This eye contact only lasts a second, because the phone rings once more. In anger, Michael picks it up. "Who is it?"

It's almost scaring me; I've never seen Michael act so angrily before, apart from when he tried to commit suicide. I'm just wondering why he's suddenly not the Michael I remember meeting and first becoming friends with. It's only been a day, but I already don't like it. I just want to know what's happening.

As he listens to the other end, his face contorts with fury. "Clover isn't here. Sorry that bothers you. Goodbye." Then, before Michael can be answered, he hangs the phone up again.

"Marco?" I suggest nervously.

He nods. "Oh course it was. I want to know how he got our number, and I want to know now."

"But I don't know, Michael," I plead. "I have no idea how he got our number!" Yet another forlorn expression starts to form on my face as I talk now.

"Well he got it somehow, didn't he?" Michael's becoming evidently more enraged the more we discuss this topic. This is made clearer when he suddenly has an outburst. "And what's next, huh? He's probably on the next flight over to America now as we speak! It won't take him long at all to find out what State we're in; then all he has to do is find where we live! Marco is a nasty man, Citria, and you've told him the country we live in!" For the final words, his voice rises to a shout. "How could you be so foolish!"

Silence takes place, whilst tears start to fill my eyes, and my lip quivers in fright; Michael's never shouted at me this way before. "I know I messed up, Michael," I reply sadly. "But at least I'm not shouting about it ... "

Then, I run out the hallway, up the stairs, leaving Michael alone.

*  *  *

-Michael's point of view-

Well, I've really messed up now. For the past day, I've been really feeling my family's deaths painfully in my heart, but I've gotten to the stage where I feel like I'm talking about myself too much. That's building up inside of me, and making me angry for no reason. I can't believe I've just verbally lashed out on my own girlfriend ...

We've both made mistakes today, so I don't know why I was the only one to shout about it. That part is all my fault. I'm going to have to go speak to Citria now; apologise for being so ... I don't know. I'm also going to have to explain to her why I'm being like this, too. Maybe then, she'll forgive me for my stupidity.

But God ... Marco knows Clover's in America. What if he manages to track her down? It wouldn't be so difficult, when you think about it. Once he's found out the State, it won't take too long to find her. I'm just worried that if he does find her, he'll hurt her like he did before. He's meant to be her uncle; it's just not right at all.

Clearing my mind of the thought of Marco, I make my way upstairs, following Citria. She's probably in the bedroom having some alone time – the way I do sometimes. I don't blame her for that, at all. She's a sensitive human being, who actually cares for people's feelings before her own. It's about time I did that, too.

Arriving at our bedroom, I tap my knuckles against the wooden door. "Citria?"

"I'm busy right now ... " she answers, her voice sounding as if it's breaking from crying.

"I want to talk to you," I continue.

From outside the door, I hear her sigh. "I think I have time for one appointment. Come in."

There it is again – thinking of my feelings first by letting me in. Slowly, I open the door, seeing her sat on the bed, with her back to me. Her blonde hair falls down her back beautifully, even when she doesn't intend it to. I'm so lucky to have this girl ... but I need to focus on keeping her right now.

"Hey," I breathe softly, advancing towards the bed. She doesn't move at all, so I sit, embracing her gently from behind. "I'm sorry I got angry ... okay?"

"I just don't understand," she confesses, heaving a light sigh in sadness. "I mean ... I know I messed up, but I didn't need the lecture Michael ... "

My eyes close, guilt washing over me. "I know. That's where I messed up. It was uncalled for; I realise that now." I make a subtle attempt at bringing her closer to me, and she reluctantly allows me to. "But I think you can see my concern ... I don't want you or Clover to get hurt."

She nods slowly in understanding. "I know that. But America's a huge place; surely it would take too long to find us."

"I don't know." Unsure on what else to say about the topic, I exhale hopelessly. "Just know that I'm sorry I got angry, alright?"

"I've never known you to be like that before. Why were you?" she questions, finally turning her body around to see me.

"Because ... since we scattered the ashes a few days back, I've really, really been missing everyone." Tears start to form in my eyes as I elaborate. "A-And ... I wanted to tell you this, but I felt like I'd burdened you enough already, so I kept quiet. I think that, in turn, has kind of ... built up inside of me, and made me—"

"I get it," she interrupts softly, finally making eye contact with me. "Michael, you can talk to me about anything at all. You know that, don't you? Don't keep anything bottled up inside of you; it'll just make things like this happen. Just tell me how you feel ... "

"You want to know honestly, how I feel right now?" I offer, heaving yet another sigh.

She nods. "Go ahead."

"Well, I feel like ... you're too kind for your own good. You have too much of a warm heart, and you don't realise how much pain you can get given if you stay that way. You're too selfless, and too sweet to everyone. You never know when to stop giving; I've just given you hell, and here you are still being kind to me and assuring me you'll always be here. What did I ever do for you? What have I ever done for you?"

"You—"

"I what?" My tone sounds sarcastic, but in reality I'm annoyed at myself. "Citria, I've done nothing for you since I've been here, apart from give you company. What's so special about me? What have I done that's so amazing?"

A look of sympathy spreads across her face, as she rests a hand on my arm. "You ... you gave me a friend. You gave me someone to enjoy life with. You gave me someone to laugh with. You gave me a person to talk to when I need it. You may feel like you've done nothing, but in reality ... you've done everything for me." Her tone indicates that she's deadly serious about what she's saying.

"But you constantly say that you feel as if you haven't done enough, Cit, when you do more than I do!" A single tear rolls down my cheek; I didn't even realise I'd teared up at all, really. "So how do you think that makes me feel? If you do nothing for me, then what do I do?"

All she does is remain silent after I've said this. She knows I'm right, but being so selfless, she'll find a way to make me seem like the superior person in our relationship. I know her too well, now.

"Sometimes the emotional side of things count more than the physical," she argues quietly. "I may do more physically, but you do more emotionally and mentally."

"Right." A soft, slightly-sarcastic chuckle escapes my lips, as another tear rolls down my cheek.

"So what now?" Her eyes meet mine; hers have tears in just like mine do, now.

Raising my hand, I let my thumb gently dab away her tears, before it caresses her cheek lovingly. I think our little heart-to-heart has helped us both a lot. "We cheer ourselves up. How 'bout that?" A faint smile forms on my face.

She nods subtly, "Okay."

"You forgive me, right?" I ask in clarification.

"Yeah, I forgive you."

Playfully, my eyebrows furrow. "What if I don't believe you?"

"Let me prove it," she demands, reaching up to kiss my cheek.

As she pulls away, I pout a little, as if I'm dissatisfied. "Is that all you're willing to give me, Angel?"

A mellow smile tugs at her lips, as I pull her into a proper kiss. To assure her that we're okay once again, I prolong it, by kissing her a couple times in a row, before separating from her a little, letting our heads remain close to each other. Then, I plant one final kiss on her mouth, allowing it to linger slightly, before pulling away fully.

"That was better," I remark jokily, my nose nuzzling against hers affectionately.

"I've missed this," she tells me.

"Missed what?" A frown forms on my face.

"The old you. Even just a day without it is terrible; this is the Michael I love."

"I see." My fingers comb through her hair; it's like a force of habit now. "Well, I'm back now."

"Good." She leans herself against me, so I support her weight.

Today has taught me that I shouldn't keep my feelings a secret ... so I'm going to try my hardest not to do that in future.

For both of our sakes.

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That ending though. Eh. I felt like it was about time Michael and Citria had a little disagreement, so there it is. Will Marco find them? Will Citria and Michael find out how he got their number? We shall see!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)