Bitter Sweet by Lennell Davis Page A

happened.
                 
                  “Does my presence bother you?” he asked, not looking at me.
                               
                  “Yes, it does.”
     
                  “Should I apologize for being who I am? I am who I am; I’m not the one pretending to get along with people who annoy me. That’s what I don’t get about you. It has been bothering me,” he stated, annoyed, and it was like he was annoyed at the fact that he didn’t know something more than being annoyed at me.
     
                  “I don’t pretend to do anything.”
     
                  “Yes, you do,” he said sitting up. “You aren’t one of these stupid idiots who think they know anything just because they know that the number 360 and the word circle has some sort of relationship. I’ve watched you as much as you have watched me, that I know, Vanessa. So why, why pretend?” He spoke so fast that it sounded as if he was angry.
     
                  “I don’t pretend to do anything, like I said.”
     
                  “You’re in denial,” he said, throwing his hands into the air and falling back to look out the window again.
     
                  It was silent for a moment. “What are you looking at?” I asked, moving beside him.
     
                  “The stars, they give me a sense of perspective. No matter how big and bad I may be up close, once you take a few steps back, I’m no more than a tiny speck among a greater picture.”
     
                  I laid down next to him on my bed and began to stare out the window. The cabin was silent and we stayed like that for about ten minutes. “I’m sorry,” I said, breaking the silence.
     
                  “For?”
     
                  “Pushing you off the table earlier; that was mean.”
     
                  “It was already forgotten.” It was silent for another five minutes or so.
     
                  “I don’t think what I’ve been doing was pretending. I feel that I'm unsure about everything; I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling right now. I was so cradled at home that being away has forced me into so many different situations all at once.”
     
                  “Don’t be scared of the unknown.”
                 
                  “I’m not scared of the unknown. It’s more I’m scared of when I finally figure out what it is I didn’t know, will I have the power to overcome it?”
     
                  “Who is the real Vanessa? I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
     
                  “You wouldn’t like her much either; that’s an unknown you don’t want to explore.”
     
                  “She must be: cynical, pessimistic, silent, and very hard to read. I’d bet very few will ever understand her, making it very hard for her to develop lasting relationships," he began. I looked at him, but he kept his eyes on the window. "And that she’s also: caring, loving, intelligent, and beautiful?" he finished. No one had ever called me beautiful but my father. "Yeah, I’d never want to get to know her.” No one had ever spoken to me like that before. I didn’t know how to respond. He started out highly sarcastic, but as he finished, the sincerity was overwhelming. We just lay there a few more moments, I hadn't noticed our hands were touching until he sat up and stood; I followed suit. “I should be going before they do cabin checks.”
     
                  “Yeah.”
     
                  I walked him to the door; he opened it, turned, and simply said “Goodnight” and walked into the darkness. I didn’t speak to Seith over the next few weeks, but I stopped pretending to like my roommates. They didn’t seem to mind as well because