Two months of eternal bliss roared by Alana like a tornado, inadvertantly stirring up something incredable she never could have fathomed in the emotional rubble of her new disposition. Her mother was just some random person living in her quarters now, not registering on her emotions. Even during Thanksgiving, a holiday devoted to American culture with plump turkeys and tentalizing stuffing and praise of past accomplishments, Alana felt as if she belonged in America, belonged with Matt. Alana's smile was permanently etched in her face, much to Thomas' delight. She has discovered someone special, someone so affable, so seclusive with her painful confessions, he could have gone for sainthood in the wake of her father's request for her to learn in the greatest country. Alana couldn't deny it, The United States was a great country, she never wanted to leave, not for all the jewels in the world.
Gleeful emotions raced through her body after another glorious get-together with Matt. Alana fluttered through her lucious backyard, invisable wings keeping her from the ground, her shadow dancing on the ground, singing softly to herself, not caring if her mother or father or God Himself heard her shouts of joy. She was happy; that's all that mattered. She scurried up the slick wall, clammy hands wrapped tightly against the fat, grainy rope, her faltering steps not depressing her high of a mood. Her fingers gripped her window ledge, one last boost of her legs causing her to tumble into her perceived dark window, slugging the wind and high out of her body like a blow to the stomach, her butt throubbing like an aching heart in pain. Her eyes winced as they rested on Thomas sitting regaly on her unmade bed, his beady black eyes boring a hole through her dresser, his receeding brown hair slightly mustered at his worry and concern. His eyes shifted coldly to her, causing her body to shrivel up inside like a prune.
"I stepped out for a walk?" she enquired with a cheesy smile as she rubbed a spark of pain from her right cheek, Thomas's usually understanding face unflinching.
"A few days a week for the past two months, give or take a week? Is that correct?" Thomas retalliated, a distinguished irate strain scratching his throat, his head turned to meet with hers, frowning with dissaproval. Alana diverted her eyes to the floor like a scolded dog, her hands clasped around her elbows self-conscionsly
"I presume my timing has been off?" Alana asked meekly, slowly rising to her feet and sliding toward Thomas, Thomas's thin eyebrows levetating in thought.
"No, it was actually quite punctual," Thomas told her, hopping from the bed and holding his hands in front of his stomach as Alana kept his spot on the bed warm. "I changed the half hour cool-down time the cameras need to run properly to make sure my eyes weren't fooling me." Alana gnawed on her bottom lips nervously, her surging emotion sinking with the rising of heavenly stars. "Would you tell me why you're sneaking out of your home into the woods in the bleak of night?" Thomas asked gently, knowing how depressing it is for her, being cooped inside a majestic home like an indentured servent, forced to be there with no friends or understandment.
Alana spilled her heart out to Thomas, about the lake in the center of the gloom of woods, about the sweet and kind Matt, about how being with him is what's trudging her through her difficult adjustments to the US. Thomas listened silently, his eyes stern as a general's but his smile bright as a clown's. He could sense her longingness and devotion and dependency on this boy by her stimulated speech and the delight spreading across her face like morning's first dribbles of sun.
"Did you kiss him yet?" Thomas asked giddily, the memory of his first crush enhancing boyish wonders buried deep in the back of his mind, the aging rivers sculpted in by his mouth and eyes deepening with a wide smile.
"Thomas!" she shreiked playfully with a giggle, tugging her hand through her waves of hair, "How personal. But, no, it hasn't been the...right time."
"I can't see how," Thomas responded earnestly, peering out into the intimadating dark, his brain tossing around images of the cool blue water, sweet sounds of nature and soft moonlight on their youthful faces, "The lake sounds beautiful."
"Oh, it is," Alana assured him, wisking her feet to the floor and traveling to her Precious Moments collection standind tall in unrelinquishing eternity, wishing she could create a Precious Moments doll for her collection and dub it "Fateful Serenity." Her hands grazed the glass case gingerly, leaving fingerprints wherever her fingers pleased like the pudgy appendages of greasy children, realizing that the dolls were second-place in life now, that she was not one of them anymore, she was living one; a Precious Moment, who knew when it could be broken.
"Miss Alana!" Thomas cried desperately, rusing to the scene of defacing and vigeriously rubbing the thumbprints away with a white cloth from his breastpocket. "Your mother would have a fit."
Alana chuckled, beaming at Thomas's devotion to his job. Thomas made a face like he swallowed a bug, dust tickling at his nose with its soft feathers as a violent sneeze shot from his body, making him grimance in his poor edicut in front of the princess of Liechtenstein. Alana patted his high shoulder tenderly, assuring that it was alright to be human once in a while. "Are you going to tell Mother?" Alana squeaked fearfully, her hands tight fists under her chin as she lingered for a possibly devastating answer, the air between them seeming to sour like milk left out on the counter by forgetful children.
Thomas deliberated a moment with the inner pros and cons soaring through his body like comets. How could he deny a child love, whether transcient or permanent, that hasn't been a factor in her life, a factor in her work-a-holic father or oblivious, pre-occupied mother's lives? That has had little or no impact on her emotions, emotions growing at her tender age? Love he prayed he could give if he wasn't in this controversial position. Then, like sunshine after rain, compassion bursted through the light clouds condensating in his eyes. "Just be careful, I pray, Miss Alana," Thomas pleaded forlorningly, patting her on the shoulder like praise.
"Oh Thomas!" Alana shouted, clasping her hands together in rejoice, the sadness slinking into her body bursting away with the rush of those encouraging words. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight, her emotions tugging at his tepid heart, grieving that the never found a woman he loved enough to create God's precious gift of a child, one, he imagined who would be alot like Alana.
"Alright," Thomas cooed as Alana let go, her eyes wide with replenished esteem. "Now, when are you seeing this boy again?"
"I believe Saturday," Alana replied, her eyes trying to roll into the back of her head to read her mental note of their next meeting tacked up on the stem of her brain.
"You'll have to purchase him something nice, Yes?" Thomas insisted, his hand groping his black trouser's pockets for the green bills Americans devoted their lives and health to gain. He pulled out an American 10 and handed it to Alana, Alana immoble toward his generous donation of money. She shook her head, discarding the bill as if it wasn't enough.
"He would enjoy something from the heart," Alana confessed, the wheels of her brain working in overtime to think of what to make him, what he would cherish. Then like a bolt of lightning, something struck her, electricifying her content smile. "I know just what to make him." With that, she sprinted into her closet for her drawing pad and pencils, her imagination spreading through her body like wildfire, burning any doubt of lonliness ailing her. She threw the contents she dug out of the closet onto her messy bed, bubbling inside with this warm, incredable, strange, new, frightening sensaion; love.
