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MAYA
I was alive.
He was here.
He saved me.
Closing my eyes, I tried to understand how I was feeling. I knew I was just about to die, but that felt less important than his existence in the room. It’d been two long years without him, yet he was here, next to me, just a few minutes ago. He was the same man I fell in love with, only he was tougher, the edges on his face became sharper, his eyes got wiser, but he still looked at me with the same care and concern he always did.
I was in pain. Mom was wasted as always, dad hadn’t even been at home for days. And I was suffering on the bathroom floor, my first period experience came in full force and caught me truly off guard. I didn’t have any pads or tampons, and mom didn’t have this problem since she hit menopause so early because of a problem in her ovaries she didn’t care to be treated for. Her drugs were more important than being sober for her health.
“Maya? Where’s Maya?” I heard Zeke’s voice. He must have been asking my mom like she’d give him an answer in her state of mind.
“Maya? Are you in there?” His voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. Since I was three or four years old, the time my mom stopped being a mom to me, Zeke was the only one who took care of me, who bathed me even, till I could manage to do it on my own. But when I was eleven, I got so sick with a high fever, he showered me then. When I broke my arm at age twelve and couldn’t do a damn thing on my own, he was the only one who helped me and bathed me, again. As I got older, I noticed he got uncomfortable with my nakedness, but it was always so normal for me. He saw me naked more than my own mom or another human being. He was the only one I could trust with my vulnerability, my nakedness, and with myself. He was always my other half, but lately, he knocked on my door before coming in, he always gave me the privacy I didn’t want to have. The solitude he was giving me made me feel like he was putting distance between us. I wanted to be close to him, he was the only one I had.
“Maya?” His voice brought me back from my reverie, and he sounded concerned, almost in a panic.
“Yes,” I murmured. Was it normal that I was in so much pain?
The door opened, and within a second, I was in his arms and under the hot shower. He didn’t even care his clothes were soaked. He only cared for me as he caressed my hair and kissed my tears. I knew having my period was normal, but I was scared regardless. Seeing myself bleed with nothing new and no one to help me reminded me how lonely I was. Not when he was with me, though. I wasn’t alone when he was with me.
I felt like a Barbie doll when he dressed me and handmade a pad for me from his old t-shirt and some cotton. Maybe I should have felt embarrassed, but there was no shame. There was only deep calm as we cuddled in the bed, his body warmth surrounding me. My pain subsided when I was in his arms. My heart felt full when he was with me, I didn’t feel the pain of the shattered, lonely pieces in my ribcage. His arms felt so right. The house I lived in had never felt like home, but his arms did. My feelings were so strong for him I wasn’t sure if it was what family members normally felt for each other.
At the age of thirteen, I took the first step of maturity in Zeke’s arms, and I knew
something for sure: I loved him too much, and I didn’t love him like a brother, but I wasn’t sure how to describe my feelings for him. It was like he was in my bones, a part of my soul like I wouldn’t be complete without him. I just knew that I wanted him in my life, no, I wanted a life with him.
The door opened, and his presence filled the room, I didn’t have to open my eyes to see him when he was in the same space with me, all I could feel was him. Our bodies, our minds, and even our souls were linked, connected to each other.
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing my emotions down. If I’d let my feelings control me, I would have either cried in front of him like a baby or begged for him to stay with me. Neither was an option; my pride was strong after he abandoned me, even though I let my guard down just a moment with that phone call. Lifting my chin with the confidence, I didn’t really feel, I armored myself with numbness and hid my emotions in a drawer even I wouldn’t be able to find again.
He cleared his throat, and I knew he was going to talk to me. If it was minutes ago, I would have been excited, nervous, sickeningly in love, but as I met his stare, there was none of them in me, only an emptiness that I welcomed willingly.
“Hey,” he whispered.
I didn’t say anything back, instead, I checked him out. He was built like a wall, years had been kind to him except a few lines next to his eyes. From his posture to the unwavering look in his dark eyes, everything about him screamed power, but I knew him enough to see the anxiety and uncertainty under his tough exterior.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
I just shrugged. The doctor asked the same question, and I wasn’t planning on talking to him if he was going to ask the questions he knew the answers of.
“Do you need anything?” he asked this time.
I snorted, what a stupid question this was. I’d just tried to end my life, surely I didn’t give a fuck about anything at that moment.
Sighing, he sat on the chair next to my bed. Silence filled the space. He stopped asking silly questions just to ask them so he could get me to talk to him. I started to watch the ceiling of my hospital room, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, but I owed him nothing – not a word or a glance; he was the one who left. Surely, he should have a few things to say.
After a few minutes, he said, “You’re not going back to that place.” This time there was pure certainty in his words.
Turning my head, I quirked my eyebrow at him, and a small smirk played on his face.
“Do you have a question, baby girl?” he asked. He was playing the same game with me, but since he found me in a moment of my weakness, he didn’t know I mastered in ignorance and indifference, while his soul was burning in the depth of his eyes. He was always passionate, that was his strongest and weakest spot as I learned how to kill my own passion after losing him.
I turned to watch the ceiling.
CHAPTER 7
MAYA
