Nostalgia - Chapter 3 (Part 2 of 2)

Words: 963

Cadogan Sage was the only other person in Savoury who was close in age to Cora. Somewhat of a quiet type, he had large glasses which often hid behind a shaggy mess of light brown hair. His lanky figure further enforced his wallflower-like presence, a silhouette found more often than not in the shadowy back-sections of the town library. An avid reader, Cadogan was never without a book and now, even in the mountains, he lovingly gripped Foucault’s A History of Sexuality. In this moment, it looked very wet (thanks to the rain).

“Hello, Cora,” said Cadogan. His lips made an upwards motion, only the hint of a smile.

“Cadogan,” replied the taken-aback girl.

Despite the fact that the two were of a similar age, there had been very little interaction between the two. Cadogan preferred his books and Cora her dresses. In a sense, both were distanced from the real world and the potential of another reality – one that involved company and a lack of loneliness. That is not to say Cora was not intrigued in this clichéd, mysterious boy. There had always been something absurdly suave and sultry about this quiet boy, and it was evident that he introversion was merely to mask a superb, labyrinthine genius. He calculated, he observed, he researched. Always active, ever silent. The thought of being within Cadogan’s presence was a thought that was both daunting and thrilling. Cora yearned to glean his intricate knowledge, yearned to understand his worldly perspective, yet she also feared to be his lesser and to appear weaker in every aspect that he might compare. And when she found Cadogan taking refuge in the mountain shelter, her heart skipped a beat – both in joy and trembling apprehension.

Cadogan was an amazing, indecipherable contradiction of emotion.

Cora could not bring herself to utter more words to this boy, out of fear that she might at once launch herself closer in temptation or vomit at his feet. Instead she shuffled over and sat gingerly upon a wooden bench. Cadogan joined her.

“So what are you doing in the mountains in this weather?” He asked, setting his book next to him. Oh no, thought Cora, he’s moving in for a full-on conversation.

“I was hiking. With my parents.”

“Oh, Hugo and Elita?”

Cora cringed. “No, my parents are David and Henrietta.”

“The accountants? I never would have guessed. You’re always at the Pancake House. You practically live there.” Cadogan’s tone was one of shock, almost.

“I do live there. At least, that’s where I am around ninety percent of the time. My parents and I are very different from each other. My mother thought it might be a good idea to go camping as a family to, you know, bond a bit more of something.” Cora sighed at the thought of her mother’s ambitious plans of family fixing. “In the end, it was a bit of a catastrophe.”

“Sounds like it. Where are they now?”

“I don’t know. They vanished somewhere and I’m not quite sure. I was heading back to the campground when this storm started.”

Cadogan actually smiled this time, although Cora had no idea why. “Sounds like you simply were not meant to find them again. I was just going for a walk to escape my own family.” He now peered out to check the weather, which seemed to have subsided. Only the fresh scent of rain remained. “Perhaps you would like to join me?”

Cora’s initial instinct was to say yes, I would love to join you for a stroll in the forest, Cadogan Sage. But then she was terrified. If they went for a walk, he would only discover the weird way in which she walked (she was horribly flat footed) or her strange obsession with dresses or the fact that she didn’t know who Michel Foucault was and what he liked to write about. He would discover that she was a little plumper than most girls, that she had a loud, obnoxious laugh that everyone commented on. He would, in essence, discover that she was not worth spending time with in a forest on a mountain above Savoury. He would discover that he would immediately want to escape her presence and regret the invitation he had extended.

So Cora said, in spite of her foremost desire, “No, I think I should head back down and find my parents.”

But Cadogan seemed oddly insistent. “I’ll walk with you. There might be some animals out and better safe than sorry, right?” And so there was nothing Cora could do but allow for this handsome, brooding, enigmatic man accompany her back to the campground.

David and Henrietta were waiting in the car and it seemed like they were still biting each other’s head off. They were clearly oblivious of everything around them because when Cora went up to knock on the window, Cadogan standing just a bit behind her, Henrietta shrieked (as usual).

“Cora, we have been waiting! We were worried sick that something had happened to you in that horrific storm,” she said. “We’re sorry that we left you behind. We just got so caught up in our, er, conversation.” Henrietta had noticed Cadogan with her daughter and clearly did not want the Darjeeling dysfunction known around town. “Get in the car, we’re going home.” This was not a request but more of a command. There was hardly time for two words of thanks to Cadogan before Cora was corralled into the car and heading back into town.

But this time, Cora’s thoughts were replaced. No longer was Nostalgia gracing the cavities of her mind, but a sleek silhouette of a young man, reading a novel. He turned the page thinly. A delicate touch was everything.