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Knock on the door. "I'm changing," I said. I removed the Band-Aid, checked it for blood or pus, tossed it in the trash, and then applied hand sanitizer to my finger, the burn of it seeping into the cut.
I pulled on sweatpants and an old T-shirt of my mom's, and emerged from the bathroom, where Mom was waiting for me.
"You feeling anxious?" she said askingly.
"I'm fine," I answered, and turned toward my room.
I turned out the lights and got into bed. I wasn't tired, exactly, but I wasn't feeling too keen on consciousness, either. When Mom came in, a few minutes later, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't have to talk to her. She stood above me, singing this old song she'd sung whenever I couldn't sleep, as far back as I could remember.
It's a song soldiers in England used to sing to the tune of the New Year's song, "Auld Lang Syne." It goes, "We're here because we're here because we're here because we're here." Her pitch rose through the first half like a deep breath in, and then she sang it back down. "We're here because we're here because we're here because we're here."
Even though I was supposed to be basically grown up and my mother annoyed the hell out of me, I couldn't stop thinking until her lullaby finally put me to sleep.
THIRTEEN
DESPITE MY HAVING psychologically decompensated in his presence, Davis texted me the next morning before I even got out of bed.
Him: Want to watch a movie tonight? Doesn't even have to be set in space.
Me: I can't. Another time maybe. Sorry I freaked out and for the sweating and everything.
Him: You don't even sweat an un-normal amount.
Me: I definitely do but I don't want to talk about it.
Him: You really don't like your body.
Me: True.
Him: I like it. It's a good body.
I enjoyed being with him more in this nonphysical space, but I also felt the need to board up the windows of my self.
Me: I feel kinda precarious in general, and I can't really date you. Or date anyone. I'm sorry but I can't. I like you, but I can't date you.
Him: We agree on that. Too much work. All people in relationships ever do is talk about their relationship status. It's like a Ferris wheel.
Me: Huh?
Him: When you're on a Ferris wheel all anyone ever talks about is being on the Ferris wheel and the view from the Ferris wheel and whether the Ferris wheel is scary and how many more times it will go around. Dating is like that. Nobody who's doing it ever talks about anything else. I have no interest in dating.
Me: Well, what do you have an interest in?
Him: You.
Me: I don't know how to respond to that.
Him: You don't need to. Have a good day, Aza.
Me: You too, Davis.
--
I had an appointment with Dr. Karen Singh the next day after school. I sat on the love seat across from her and looked up at that picture of a man holding a net. I stared at the picture while we talked because the relentlessness of Dr. Singh's eye contact was a little much for me.
"How have you been?"
"Not great."
