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The way he chews, his square jaw moving, seems authoritative too.
I don’t know how to explain it but all I know is that it does something to me.
It affects me.
Like he affects me.
Like his words affected me just now.
So potent. So fierce and violent.
So beautiful.
All for me. On my behalf.
He defended me. From my own self, and I never would’ve imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, that he would do that.
That he would be on my side.
This gorgeous, rude and yet somehow safe guy.
Soon, dinner comes to an end and Atlas calls for the check. I fish out my card from my bag but when I go to put it on the table, he jerks his eyes up at me and growls, “No.”
Just that. One word.
The only thing that he’s said to me after how I stupidly ruined things.
I put my card back and go to say something about our earlier conversation but once the check is settled, Atlas stands up and in the same growly voice, says, “Let’s go. I’ll walk you back.”
Standing up, I follow him out of the restaurant, my eyes on his tight frame. On his rigid shoulders, his fists that he pushes inside the pockets of his jeans.
And I know — I just know — that we’re never doing this again.
Whatever this was, it’s not happening again.
It sends me into panic mode.
Not the kind that’s brought on by my illness, no. This panic is different. This panic is more like despair. A deep sadness that’s originating from the center of my body, rather than from my diseased brain.
And it keeps increasing and increasing, this pain, this despair, as we walk under the darkening fall sky. It’s only after ten minutes, when we reach my apartment building, that it occurs to me that he knew where I live. He never asked for directions. He simply knew where he was going.
“How did you…”
I trail off when he finally turns to me. His eyes glow under the dimming sky as he says, “I can do tomorrow. Six o’ clock. Meet me at the library.”
“The tutoring,” I say, more to myself than anything because I’d forgotten about it for a few moments.
I’d forgotten about my initial goal, and honestly, now that I remember, I don’t seem to care.
It’s oddly freeing.
Not caring about grades. I mean, I know that I need help, but thinking about it and worrying about it every second of every day is so exhausting.
His lips pull up on one side in a hollow smile. “A deal’s a deal.” He stares at me for a second or two before saying, “See you tomorrow.”
His words, almost a repeat of what he said yesterday about dinner, sound subdued. Flat and toneless. And when he takes a step back, I say, “I never said thank you.”
My words sound desperate, a plea for him to stay.
To talk to me. To let me talk.
“What?”
I take a deep breath before continuing; it’s hard for me but I can’t not say this either, not after today. “For… helping me that day.”
That day.
He knows what I’m talking about.
I can see it on his face, a ripple going through his features at my words, his eyes narrowing, honing in on me even more.
“I don’t remember much about that day,” I forge ahead. “Except that I was really panicked, and I felt so… unhinged. More so than usual. I guess I’d been building up to it. All my life, you know. That day the dam broke and I just… I didn’t know how to stop myself. It was as if I was watching myself from afar. I was aware of so many things, and yet, so many things were a blur. But anyway, I remember feeling that people had started to look at me, and I guess that scared me so much that I passed out. And then I remember you.”
I look at his face. A face that I’ve studied a million times from afar. His thick lashes, his straight nose. His square jaw that’s stubbled right now. That always appears so strong, and somehow, so stubborn.
“I remember you carrying me through the hallway,” I say, swallowing. “You felt so strong. Your arms. For the first time in my life, I thought that I’m… I’m centered. That I’m calm. That I’m not spinning and spinning. That I can rest for a while and things won’t fall apart. And when you looked down at me, I thought you were the most… You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Your eyes.” I shake my head. “I never got a chance to say thank you. For helping me. For carrying me to the health center, for…” Another deep breath. “Talking to me. For soothing me.”
I’ve got you…
My entire body shivers at the memory of his words.
At the memory of his arms, his voice. His quiet authority, his presence.
