God bless LADYMALLARD and Foxcat93, my dearest readers, for everything! I honestly can't thank you enough! I mean holy crumb cakes, you've been here the whole time! ^^ Ti amo...(Italian for I love you!)
Believe it or not, once in a blue moon, rain visited us. On the day it did, I had no choice but to lock myself in my room and stay there.
I didn't do any school. I tried, but my mind wouldn't focus. It kept going back to Dusty and me, walking, skipping, in the rain.
And I hated myself for thinking it. Whenever a single thought of him popped in my head I would get angry at me. I would try so hard to forget it. It's over now, I'd say in my head. It wasn't, though. There was just now, just the moment.
I'd walk down the stairs. Dusty used these. I mentally slapped myself.
I was starting to be nicer to people. Mom said it was about time I stopped acting like a PMSing teenage girl, but before I pointed out I had four years left of child and non-teenager hood, and that I didn't know what PMSing meant, she was laughing too hard to listen to me.
I got my appetite back, thank heavens. I chewed on a piece of liquorice and gazed out the window. There was a rainbow over the mountains. I turned my back on it and looked at the bookcase I had that's collecting dust. I experienced one of those dramatic moments, where I could break into song, singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I had the urge, but I didn't.
I heard a knock on my window. I ignored it. Still, I look back and wonder why I didn't know who it was yet.
Another knock I continued to leave alone. When one more came, I either got annoyed or creeped out, and went over to the window and looked down.
Earth tilted under me.
There Dusty stood, with his purple coat and bottomless pockets and accordion-like top hat. He held something wide and green, but it was too hard to see from up here.
Sunlight bounced off the wet grass and made everything sort of shine. I smiled. I tapped the glass and then took off out of my room, shoved past Natalie, down the stairs, through the door. My legs were going so fast I couldn't keep up with them.
Dusty now had an umbrella, despite the fact the sun had come out (mostly) and the rain stopped beating down. He was looking at me wearily, and I found it so amazing what the green stuff on the plate was.
I must have appeared pretty stunned; Dusty grinned and honked, and when he did, I thought, Fudge, I would have given anything to hear that just a week ago.
Dusty walked slowly up to me, the Jello outstretched. He took each step as if he wanted to make a lasting impression in the land.
He held the plate out to me expectantly, bubbling over with excitement. He was shifting from foot to foot, and his hair, his noodle soup hair, glowed.
I did something I wasn't willing myself to do. I wrapped my arms around Dusty's middle and hugged him like this was the last chance in my life. I again surprised myself, blurting out, "I love you."
Dusty and I went back to the park where God initially sent him to me. Dusty was clearly searching for someone-the balloon vendor. He never came, though.
And Dusty was in such a good mood, even if Mr. Balloon man was nowhere around; he took out his scissors and was cutting everything. He cut pieces off people's coats, stuffing them in his pockets and even giving one to me; it was a yellow raincoat that belonged to a brunette woman I sometimes see at Wal-Mart.
Then we sat cross-legged on the grass, our knees touching, eating green jello. I was so happy. Joy spiralled throughout me; that feeling when you put on warm pyjamas from the dryer. Speaking of pyjamas, the ones I wore a couple weeks ago are neatly folded and sitting on top of my bookshelf. Washed.
I begged Mom not to wash them. They were the only part of Dusty I had left. When she refused, I demanded. Still, there they are, clean as clean can be. I was so upset about it, I haven't worn those pink P.J's since. Maybe I should now. And maybe I should apologize to Mom for getting mad about her washing them. In reality, she's only trying to keep me clean.
Dusty's umbrella was back in one of his pockets. I asked him to put it away when he began closing it, then opening it quickly and loudly in passerby's faces. He glared at me, shook the umbrella at me, "laughed," and tucked it into the inside of his purple coat.
The jello was much needed. Maybe that's the reason I felt so happy. Or possibly because I was in the company of an angel. I don't know. Probably both.
I stared at Dusty and felt more thankful to him than anyone else. I smiled until my cheeks ached.
Honk honk. Dusty took off his hat and sat it-I can't believe this was happening to me!- on my head. I laughed out loud as it fell over my eyes, blinding me. I tipped it back up and patted it, letting him now I loved it as much as he loved it. I felt this was like an initiation of sorts, that this sealed our fate, our friendship.
I knew when all angels like him(not quite like him) were gone, he's still be here. That was one of the beautiful things about Dusty. How he didn't speak, but talked with his eyes, his honking. How he made anyone smile. How he found beauty in everything and everyone. How he would find somehow, someway, to get you whatever you wanted, whether it be a baseboard or jello. But mostly, how he followed you around, to the ends of the Earth.
HARPO ADOLPH(ARTHUR) MARX- R.I.P.