Conversations

Prompt: Write about a character doing something they’ve done hundreds of times — only this time, it’s taken on a new meaning.

“Hey, Lina.” 

“Hi!”

“How are you?” 

“Good. And yourself?” 

“Oh, I’m good. What have you been up to?” 

“Nothing much, you?” 

“Nothing.”

“Cool. Okay. Bye.”

The end of conversations usually make impressions, for me atleast. Then later in the day, my mind will slip away from reality before the transcript of my conversations weigh me down. Cool? Great way to end a conversation, huh. Usually it’s the other person who breaks the silence because they don’t like the slight discomfort I create. I find the silence too intimidating to break. 

***

Talking is an adjective, a noun and a verb. You could say, that talking bird; or maybe say, I’ll do the talking (a comforting phrase). When the word talking is a verb, there are many meanings. We humans talk to inform, to persuade, and to entertain.

“Hello?” “Hey! You must be Ivy Mackie.” Dani’s voice fades into the background. “I’m Daniella, call me Dani, and I’m a senior.” Her ash blonde hair waves as she stands. “Cool.” How is it so easy for them to converse? Like, am I the only one that can’t get her speech out? The new girl, Ivy, is stunning; bronzed skin, long smooth hair, topaz eyes darting around the room. It has two skinny bunk beds mirroring each other with lopsided wooden desks at the foot, there are two doors: a closet and a washroom and a couch filling up the center. Is Ivy impressed or dreading the five years? Tori, only a year older than me, “No… why would you do that?” Tori has a low voice. She talks to herself, her thoughts heard through her voice. She glances at me with glee in her eyes, as she brushes her bangs out of her big round glasses. The hoodie bunched up holds her long black hair and almost black hair with a hint of blue. Wait… am I the only one in this dorm with curly, tangled hair? What if they find clumps in the shower? What if I accidentally plug the drain with my hair? “Celina.” I snap into reality. I panic, trying to decipher this situation. The three girls are waiting, expecting a response. I manage, “Hi.” “Hi. I’m Ivy.” I smile uncomfortably. I glance at Tori. she shrugs before unpausing the video. Ugh, I’m so awkward.

“Hi Ivy. I think we’re in the same class.” Nailed it! No stutter, no long pauses, no weird wording! “And?” Ivy shoots arrows into my stomach. She didn’t even take her focus off her suitcase. We linger in the silence swirling around us. Pens and sketchbooks tumble onto the ground as she unzips her bag. “I like your drawings.” I squat, gathering her stuff into my trembling arms. The clutter spills onto her bed. “Don’t.” Ivy snatches her stuff. Does she hate me already? Is she just in a bad mood? Or maybe she’s insecure about her art? Does she just not like people touching her stuff? Did I make a bad impression? Maybe I’ll make it up to her. Conversations usually help people bond, right? “So...” I start. 

“Why are you here at a boarding school?”  I ask.

“My parents hate me.”

“Oh…”

“...what?”

“Uh nothing. I just can’t relate.”

I wander back to the bunk across hers. 

“No one should like their parents if they're sending us here. I mean, this is a boarding school and we’ll be here for five years.” Ivy suddenly speaks with anger. “Ivy. Chill. We’re all here, may as well get along, right?” Dani leaps from the top bunk like a police officer on a mission. “Why must there be optimistic people? To me it’s a waste of time, being unappreciated for looking on the bright side.” She left Dani in shock and confusion. Ivy scanned us, daring one of us to speak. Challenging, establishing dominance, my therapist told me to be aware of these behaviors and in this state it is hard to make interactions. “Hey. Th-that’s not r-right. Dani is just-t being nice. Why are you…insulting everyone?” I shrink into my shoulders. “I’m not insulting everyone! Why are you all ganging up on me?” Ivy plays victim. “Yeah. We don’t mean to pick sides or whatever, but like, chill out.” Dani confronts her, with confidence. Ivy is like a bomb and none of us are sure when or if she will explode. Ivy, on the brink of tears, vulnerable, examines the mood. “Fine” she mumbles, dismissing herself to the washroom. “Are you okay? Celina?” My skin is numb, I touch my face and feel the water between my eyeballs and my skin. “Well. Thanks for telling her off.” Tori smiled. 

***

Communication is different from talking. It is an act mutually understood by entities through signs, symbols, telegraphs, sounds and more. Communication is necessary, a survival skill in order to transmit signals and information. Talking uses vocal chords while communication is the process of thinking before speaking or listening. Not all animals talk, but they still communicate to help animals find mates, establish dominance, defend territory and care for younger generations. We humans communicate to inform, to express feelings, to imagine, to influence, and to meet social expectations.

We’re all existing with a mind intact. We’re all permitted to express our mind. The only hard part is that not everyone is listening. When they do listen, they answer back with their own words. The stranger on the other side can do or say whatever they want, potentially having an advantage over my speech. This time, I’m the stranger. It was like having the world in hand. I’ve never felt that control before, adrenaline replaced by life’s drama. Even if it’s a small victory, it’s a big step forward for me. 

“Celina, right?” I meet Ivy peering over my shoulder. This will be awkward. I practically offended her yesterday and now she wants a conversation. “I wasn't trying to insult everyone. Clear? But you’ve got to agree that our parents sending us here is absurd.” She adds a chortle to try to relate. I shake my head. “So why are you acting differently now than this morning?” I blurt out. Why did I say that? Why would I ask something so rude? “Why would you ask such a question?” “Uh…just curious.” I drag out the s. “Hm. Well I want to get to know you, after all, we’ll be spending five years together, at this horrible school, may as well make amends, right?” I hate that she's right. “Okay.” I wonder if animals do this too, after a fight. “Great.” Ivy's hair whorls in the air as she walks away. Wait...Did she take advantage of me? Did she genuinely want to befriend me? 

“Wait Ivy!” I blurt out. She stops and gives me a look, as if she’s expecting me to say something important. “Uh, well earlier you mentioned that your parents… h-hate you?” I regret the question instantly. The pangs of guilt branch through my veins. “Yup. You don’t have to feel bad, it’s mutual.”  She shrugs as if it’s normal. 

***

Conversation is an interactive communication between two or more people. It’s a talk where people often share new ideas or information is exchanged. Usually, there are unsaid rules, just out of etiquacy;  don't multitask, use open-ended questions, go with the flow, don't compare your experience with theirs and try not to repeat yourself. I try to follow these rules, but it’s hard. Maybe my flow isn’t great and I’ll just have to live with being bad at conversations.