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Raindrops are splashing against my face, and I want to pretend it feels good, but it is a sting rather than a slap. The heavy drops are begging to sink me under. I might let them if they convince me it will be worth it.
Maybe a little longer and I will disintegrate into tiny particles and float back up to the clouds. Back to a home where I am nothing and nothing becomes me.
“Aly?” I ignore the jumbled question.
Thunder booms, and the sky is so dark, I don’t have to close my eyes to be alone anymore. Rain is becoming my tears, so I don’t have to produce any. My fingertips are cold and tingly.
“Alyeska.” This time, he sounds serious, and it is as if he appears on the edge of the pool when I don’t choose to respond.
I hear,fuck, and then a crash of water. He is hauling me to the edge, lifeguard style, and I try to spread out, reach the sides of eternity to take me back. But Lad is too focused on having me stay here with him.
“What are you thinking? You’re turning blue.” He lifts me out of the pool, and I refuse to say anything. It would take too much energy to describe the ways I have nothing left to give.
It’s funny, I am not even cold.
Lad’s clothes are equally drenched, and I wonder who saved who now. What does our tally chart look like if he won this round?
I telepathically tell him to leave me there. But even if I could say it out loud, he wouldn’t have listened. Because he cares, and there is a word scaring me more than the word love.
Next thing I am aware of is warm water spreading over my body as Lad tries to remove my wet clothes. There is no effort on my part to help me; in this catatonic state everything revolves around me. I am spectating, but I do not belong.
“Hey, let’s get you warmed up, okay?” Lad thinks I nod, but my head dips, because I’m tired. He takes it as a sign of life, and I take it as a lazy one.
Lad dries my body and hair, places me under the covers in my bed instead of his. He goes and showers as I stare at the wall, and when he comes back, he gets in beside me.
“Are you okay?” Lad props himself up on one elbow. He shifts my hair from under my neck to span the pillow. I can smell his shower gel on his skin. It’s earthy without a heavy musk of masculinity. It’s comforting, tickles your senses in a way saying,you can trust me.
I lay on my back and face the ceiling. Lad readjusts the blankets to tuck me in and keep my body warm.
Instead of answering, he reaches for my hand, lays down in the same position as me, and interlocks our fingers. I bring our fists closer to my chest. It is strange, but I feel like we have done this before. There is a memory in my mind of us holding hands, but I can’t place the time.
Maybe it isn’t even my memory. It could be I saw it somewhere, or saw him hold someone else’s hand and I wanted to be in their place so badly, I tricked my mind into believing I had been chosen instead.
“What is it?” Lad’s fingers move the wet strands away from my forehead.
“This seems familiar.” It’s a willow of a whisper. Lad accepts the statement as possible déjà vu. I don’t title it; I am too tired to figure out when this happened or why.
But I close my eyes and things get darker rather than direct a path to a silver lining. I shift to the drawer next to my bed, getting the vape filled with an escape. I press it against my lips and lean back on the bed, and take a big inhale of my joint. The small cloud hovers above my face, no words are spoken, but they don’t need to be said.
We are so close to oblivion we forget we exist.
“Hey, I made you breakfast. Are you hungry?” Lad puts the plate next to my nightstand and I see the worry in his eyes. I can’t bear his emotions this morning, so I look away.
“I have to get to class.” Because what else am I going to do? If I don’t go, I will sit here and smell sweet misery.
“Are you sure? Maybe we should stay home and relax. We could have a movie marathon.” He is trying, but I don’t want anything from him, especially his understanding.
“We don’t need to do anything together. I certainly don’t need you babying me or feeding me comfort.” I get out of bed and head to the closet to get dressed. “I know you want to be the guy who saves the day, the man who everyone can count on to make things better. But you can’t be that person for me. I don’t want you to be.” I rip off every bit of clothing from the day before. Even though Lad put me in fresh clothes after the shower, I need something fresh on my skin.
“Are you going to get pissed at me for taking care of you? Yes, it makes me feel good to know I can provide you with simple amenities that make you smile. To know you are wrapped in my arms every night and have a warm bed to sleep in. I’m not fucking apologizing for doing what I think is right just because you feel insecure.” Lad is yelling, and it feels good, convenient.
I reach for a t-shirt and jeans, grab matching underwear and a black bra.
“Is it really hard for you to believe that maybe I like you enough to care about, fuck, I don’t know maybe I’m crazy because fuck, I actually love you?” When I turn around to face him, he is scowling like the man has never been bothered to be upset.
“You don’t need to pity me, I can pick myself up off the floor, Lad. Our love story isn’t one where you can be the hero and win the girl. My life is a little more messed up than how fairytales are written. Stop treating me like some community service project.” I get dressed and I have pissed him off so bad he isn’t even looking at my naked body with desire; it is all hate at this point.
“Were you going to pick yourself off the bottom of the pool yesterday, or were you waiting for me to deal with it on my own?” Lad cocks his head, knowing he is crossing a line, but we know how to push against each other to make the other erupt.
