#tim burto

Word Count: 906

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"Do you need any help?" You asked, flipping the sign on the door to "closed". You worked in the shop just across the street, and since you finished work right before her, you often came over to help her close up. It had been a nice sort of end of the day ritual almost since you moved here, when Nellie hooked you on her famous meat pies - and her quirky personality. The two of you had become close friends almost immediately. You'd always secretly wished you could be more, but there were too many things working against it, and she had never shown any romantic interest. You supposed - or maybe just convinced yourself - that it didn't matter. This was enough. Now was the time of day you most looked forward to, when you could finally rest after being on your feet all day, talking with Nellie about whatever happened to be on your minds.

Nellie was wiping the counters, cleaning off the grease and grit of the day. She glanced up at you and flashed one of those little half smiles you always loved.

"Thank you, darling, but I'm just about finished. Why don't you take a seat?"

"Alright." You slid into a seat in front of the counter, resting your hands in your lap so you didn't dirty the surface she had just cleaned. A savory smell wafted through the air. It wasn't uncommon for the aroma of meat pies to linger in her shop when the day was done, but today it was stronger than usual.

"Have you still got pies in the oven?" You asked.

"Just pulled one out." She answered, nodding behind her. There on the counter was a fresh pie you hadn't yet noticed. "I figured we could share one, seeing as you hardly get the chance to come here while I'm open."

"That's sweet of you." You said genuinely. She looked up and smiled, locking eyes for a moment, then her smile faltered slightly and she jerked her eyes away to look at the ground. The action confused you, but you didn't get a chance to remark on it.

"I'll get the pie. Would you mind getting the tea? It's already made, just gotta put it on the tray, dear." She was turned away from you, wiping her hands on her dress.

"Of course." You answered, jumping out of your seat. You went and set the tray, placing everything neatly, then picked it up to move it to one of the tables. Normally the two of you would move to her sitting room, but seeing as you would be having pie, you didn't want to risk a mess on the furniture. Nellie followed behind, placing the pie next to the tray, and began to cut out portions while you poured tea for the both of you. Once you both had your servings, you sat across from each other. You noticed Nellie kept glancing at you, taking breaths like she was about to say something, then deflating and looking back down at her food.

"Are you alright?" You asked.

"Yes" Her tone clearly told you it was a lie. You frowned.

"If something's bothering you, you know you can tell me. You're my closest friend, Nell." You reached your hand across the table to take hers but she jerked it away, standing up.

"Well that's just it, isn't it?" She asked, her face tight with frustration.

"I don't understand. Is there something wrong with... with us?" Her reaction to you calling her your closest friend made your heart drop with dread. Did she not see you that way?

"Yes. No! No, no." She said quickly. "It's just..." She sighed, and turned to brace her hands on the counter. "Bloody hell."

You waited in silence, fearing what she'd say next.

"A girl should only feel this way for a bloke." She whispered, softly enough that you knew she probably hadn't meant for you to hear. But you did.

At first you didn't totally believe it, surely you had misunderstood something, but there wasn't really much to debate with a statement like that, was there? Even if she denied it later, the truth was out. You wanted to collapse in relief and jump for joy at the same time. However the way she looked, turned away from you with her white knuckle grip on the counter, head ducked down, told you she was having a hard time with this. You needed to be gentle.

You got up and moved behind her, hesitantly placing your hands on her arms, just above the elbows. She jumped at the contact, then slowly relaxed to your touch.

"I know exactly what you're feeling, Nellie." You wanted to kiss her, but something told you this wasn't the right time yet. When she next spoke, she sounded close to tears.

"If anyone found out- oh, you know how much delight Turpin and the Beadle take in suffering. They wouldn't hesitate to-"

"That's not gonna happen. It'll be our secret, just us, Nel." You rubbed your hands up and down her arms, trying to reassure her.

"Nothing - no one - is going to hurt you while I'm here."

She leaned back into you, and you hugged her from behind, letting out a sigh. The threat of Turpin did nothing to abate the joy you felt. You knew, in your heart, everything was going to be fine.

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Allá por 1997 Tim Burton dejo salir al mundo otra de sus extrañas joyas oscuras. Un libro de poemas que bajo el nombre de “La melancólica muerte del chico ostra” nos mostraba toda una colección de pequeños niños solitarios y oscuros marcados por alguna terrible condición. (more…)

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