Polly & Jeremy - Part 8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK1My1turMY

What the Heart Already Knows

Later, when Jeremy came home, he found his drawings scattered across the floor.

Sheets of paper were everywhere. Some were crumpled, others torn. The sharp smell of alcohol filled the room.

His mother was there.

She held a bottle in one hand, staring at the drawings as though they were something filthy that needed to disappear.

Jeremy stopped in the doorway.

“Mom...”

She didn't answer.

His father appeared behind him and grabbed his arms.

“No!” Jeremy struggled against him. “Don't do this!”

His mother poured alcohol over the drawings.

“These drawings are only hurting you, Jeremy.”

“No!”

“And that girl isn't good for you either. She's a bad influence.”

Jeremy struggled harder.

“Don't talk about her!”

“You're never seeing her again,” his mother said. “Never.”

Then she struck a match.

The fire began small.

One sheet twisted in the flames. Then another.

Jeremy stopped fighting.

He simply watched.

His favorite drawing began to blacken around the edges. The paper slowly curled, turning everything he had created into ashes.

He cried.

He cried as though he were watching a part of himself die.

YOUNG WOMAN (V.O.)

Sometimes Jeremy stopped taking his medication. Other times, he would sink even deeper into his depression and draw.

For him, drawing was a way to breathe.

It was where he could put the things he couldn't say.

And that night, even that was taken away from him.

The next day, Jeremy sat alone in the classroom.

His pencil moved across a sheet of paper.

He drew in silence.

The teacher's voice drifted somewhere in the background, distant and indistinct.

YOUNG WOMAN (V.O.)

Few people ever escape that prison.

Few find the tools to get out.

Jeremy found his in imagination, pencils, paper, and dreams.

Every time he drew, a small light seemed to appear in front of him, pointing toward a way out.

But it is difficult to find those tools when the people who are supposed to protect you are the same people who tear them from your hands.

Your own parents.

Sometimes Jeremy told Pollyanna never to come near his house.

He said evil lived there.

At times, she thought he simply didn't like her.

But that wasn't it.

It was fear.

Fear that she would find out everything.

Fear that she would look at him with disgust.

Fear of seeing her look at him the same way so many other people already had.

Every week, Jeremy came to school with new marks.

Cigarette burns.

Bruises.

Injuries hidden beneath his clothes.

Sometimes he simply didn't show up.

And nobody needed to ask why.

During recess, Pollyanna found Jeremy in the schoolyard.

He was trying to hide the marks on his body by pulling down the sleeves of his shirt.

“Hi...” he said.

“Hi.”

She watched him for a few seconds.

“What happened?”

Jeremy looked away.

“Forget it.”

“Please, Jeremy. Tell me the truth.”

He remained silent.

Then he took a deep breath.

“My mother burned my drawings.”

Pollyanna's eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

“She burned them.”

“She couldn't have done that!”

Jeremy lowered his head.

“She burned... even that drawing.”

Pollyanna was silent for a moment.

Then she stepped closer.

“Don't worry.”

Jeremy looked up.

“I can make another one for you.”

He gave her a faint smile.

“You can?”

“I can.”

She took his arm.

“Do you want to come to my house this afternoon?”

Jeremy thought for a few seconds.

“Yes...”

YOUNG WOMAN (V.O.)

Jeremy had a simple way of existing.

And without even realizing it, he kept filling me with hope, love, and companionship.

We never told each other that we were together.

We didn't need to.

It was there on our faces.

In the way we looked at each other.

In the things we did without having to explain them.

What we felt was already there, even without a single word.

That afternoon, Jeremy went to Inês and Pollyanna's house.

Inês was outside, talking to a neighbor.

When the conversation ended, the woman said goodbye and left.

Pollyanna watched her grandmother come inside.

“Grandma, what were you talking about with the neighbor?”

“About the documents we need for the house.”

“But why didn't you come inside and talk?”

Inês took off her shoes before entering.

“She was in a hurry. She needed to take care of her youngest daughter.”

Pollyanna gave her a suspicious look.

“Two hours of talking?”

Inês looked at her.

“Polly.”

“What?”

“I want you to clean your room.”

“My room?”

“It's a mess. And get rid of some of that junk. There's stuff in there that isn't useful anymore.”

She pointed toward Jeremy.

“And you, Jeremy, help her.”

“Me?”

“You heard me.”

Inês picked up her purse.

“I have a few things to take care of. I'll be back at seven.”

She pointed a finger at both of them.

“And behave!”

The door closed.

Pollyanna waited a few seconds.

Then she grabbed Jeremy by the arm.

“Come with me to my room!”

Pollyanna's bedroom looked as if a small storm had passed through it.

Clothes covered the floor. There were boxes, books, papers, and old stereo equipment piled into the corners.

Jeremy looked around.

“You call this a bedroom?”

“I call it creative organization.”

“Looks like a dump.”

Pollyanna grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

“Shut up.”

They both laughed.

After a while, they sat on the floor among the mess.

Pollyanna put on her headphones.

She closed her eyes.

For a few seconds, she simply let herself feel the music.

Then she took one earbud out and placed it in Jeremy's ear.

He stayed quiet.

Pollyanna simply watched him.

Jeremy began to smile.

When the song ended, he took the earbud out.

“That's a beautiful song.”

“You like it?”

“Very much.”

Pollyanna rested her chin on her knees.

“What did you understand from it?”

Jeremy thought.

“It feels like a mixture of passion, altruism, and a kind of cheerful melancholy.”

Pollyanna smiled.

“Yeah... right?”

“A love with passion. A relationship that doesn't begin with a celebration and doesn't end with one either.”

She looked at him.

“Cool, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And what do you feel?”

Jeremy looked confused.

“Well... what about you?”

“No. I know what I feel.”

She took a breath.

“I want to know what you feel.”

Jeremy looked at her.

“About the song?”

“No.”

Silence.

Pollyanna began to stumble over her words.

“What you feel when... when... and...”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

“Why am I in love with you?”

Jeremy froze.

Then he smiled.

“Yeah, huh?”

Pollyanna opened her eyes.

“Yeah, huh?”

Jeremy kept looking at her.

Pollyanna's face turned red.

“Stop that! You idiot!”

Jeremy laughed.

“Well, I...”

She grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it at him.

“No!”

“Wait! Let me explain!”

Another shirt flew through the air.

“I don't want to hear it!”

Pollyanna ran toward the door.

Jeremy got up and chased her.

She stumbled.

He caught her before she fell, and they both ended up on the floor.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved.

Jeremy looked at her.

“I'm in love with you.”

Pollyanna made a face.

“Wimp!”

Jeremy laughed.

“Witch!”

She started laughing too.

Then they fell silent.

They looked at each other.

And kissed.

It was a simple kiss.

Unhurried.

Without grand promises.

Just a confirmation of something they already knew.

YOUNG WOMAN (V.O.)

It was the first time we had said those words to each other.

The kiss didn't create what we felt.

It only gave a name to something that already existed.

It was like a silent contract between our feelings.

Now we only had to let our minds accept what our hearts already knew.

They remained lying on the floor, surrounded by clean and dirty clothes, laughing quietly, talking, and exchanging small gestures of affection.

Time passed without them noticing.

When Inês returned, it was already past eight.

Outside, she found Jeremy riding away on his bicycle.

He raised a hand and waved.

“Bye, Dona Inês!”

“Bye, Jeremy!”

He pedaled away.

Inês went inside.

She stopped at Pollyanna's bedroom door.

Blinking, she looked around.

The room was clean.

“A miracle,” she muttered.

Pollyanna appeared behind her.

“Grandma?”

“Hmm?”

“Did Jeremy leave?”

“Yes. He was on his bicycle.”

Pollyanna ran into her room.

On the bed was the drawing Jeremy had made of her.

She picked it up.

She stared at it for a few seconds.

Then she found a pen and wrote on the back:

“So you'll remember me the way I am with you.
Polly.”

She smiled.

“Grandma?”

“What?”

Pollyanna was already grabbing her bicycle.

“I have to go.”

“Now?”

“I'll be quick. I'll be right back.”

Inês crossed her arms.

“Wait until tomorrow. What's the hurry?”

Pollyanna opened the door.

“I'll tell you later, Grandma!”

She turned and blew her a kiss.

“Bye!”

And ran outside.

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