Graduation
Evening in summer, the world is seen through a orange lens. The only color besides orange is the black of the shadows and the white of the clouds in the distant sky beyond the living room window.
Sitting in the sofa, directly in front of the window, my mother watches television. What an ethereal beauty, would say my father, in a jokingly tone. Only her face is visible. A terse expression, almost angry. Everything else is covered in shadows.
By the sound of it, she's knitting something. A scarf, I guess. Why, in summer, is anyone guess.
"You're thinking something rude about me, aren't you?" Says my mother.
She rests her eyes on me, knitting all the while.
"I don't think so." I respond.
She stops knitting and stays silent for a while, looking at me. Then, a light chuckle. Her eyes shrinken, her expression softening.
"You are rude without thinking." She says, returning to her knitting. "You would be conscious of that if you had friends."
A faint grey fog, enveloping the room.
"Well, that was quite callous."
"What was 'callous'?" She asks, confused.
"'You would know if you had friends.'"
"When did I say that?"
"Just now."
"No, I didn't."
The fog dissipates.
Didn't she?
Yes, she's right. She didn't say anything like that. That was just me.
"Anyway..." Says my mother, returning her confused eyes to the television. "You want to tell me something?"
"Yes, actually. It's about the graduation, you see..."
I pause, trying to find the right wor...
"You're not going, then?" She asks.
Well, that was quick.
"Yep."
"Ok."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I'm not forcing you." She rests her knitting needle on the right arm of the sofa. "As much as I would like to see you in graduation, if you're not up to, you're not up to it, that's that."
"Well, thank you."
"Not quite callous, now, huh?" She says, smiling a warm smile.
What was I thinking, anyway?
Three days after the graduation cerimony (which I didn't go neither heard about), the school's calls me, asking me to fetch my diploma as soon as possible. As soon as the courage to get out of my house finally developed, I changed myself and made my way to the school.
It was quite a foggy day. The air was damp and cold. Trees emerging slowly through the fog, strangely immobile, the green of the leaves in a dessaturated tone. Besides the rare car, no one in the streets. I though that maybe I had left home too early.
It didn't matter, though. I liked the school road, especially when it was empty like that. It gave me time to think for myself and not for the others passing me on the crosswalk.
I could have been a lot less conscious of myself in school. It would really help.
But that's just water under the bridge now.