listening to symphonies.
I shift uncomfortably in the stiff chairs in the bleak English room. I think of what just happened between me and Elle as me and Ned work on analyzing some old story.
I zone out and Ned does the work for this class by himself while I am lost in contemplation.
The bell signifying the end of the day arrives with such sudden noise that I practically have a heart attack. I grab my stuff and wait by the door for Elle and Ned. Ned goes to his car and me and Elle walk to the train station.
We once again magically get two open seats next to each other. She sits on her laptop editing that wonderful script of hers.
She gets off in front of me. I walk behind her, cautious of how I act because of Ned. Damn it, Ned, you shouldn’t have said that. She turns around to face me and walks towards me, eventually walking next to me.
“Ned was right,” she whispers. I’m not sure I was meant to hear it.
Just to be sure I wasn’t meant to hear it, I ask, “Huh?” and she looks at me with those big green eyes.
“Nothing,” she says, a hint of sadness softening her usual sharp wit.
I hook her pinky with mine, like she did to me at lunch. She smiles at me, her veil of sadness fading subtly.
We walk to my apartment and sit in the living room. Eventually, I decide it’s time to show her her birthday present.
She follows me back to my room, but, I shoo her back to the living room. It takes some time, but, I eventually wheel out the display.
She’s always wanted her name in lights and I want her to live that finally, and not have to wait.
She sits in awe, waiting for it.
“Confession, I didn’t build the entire thing myself. Mr. Stark helped, said it could be part of my internship,” I saw her eyes light up at the mention of Mr. Stark's name.
I pull back the table cloth that was covering it and flip a switch so it lights up. It’s a Broadway style marquee of her name written in her mother’s version of cursive. Stark helped with that part, he had them custom made by some guy. I built the marquee display with his help too. She practically jumps onto me, her small frame leaping from the couch into my arms.
She thanks me what feels like a million times. Hearing her saying my name over and over is like listening to the symphonies her friend Ben sends her. We stay like that for a while, hugging each other tightly. I felt her shaking, I can’t tell if she is crying or just happy.
“I love you, Peter,” she says pulling out of the hug and calling me my first name, signalling how serious she is.
“I love you too, Eleanore,” I say grinning with content.