Touch
2021
16 years

Weekends were nothing more than countdowns to see him again. She didn't think it was possible to miss someone this much. Hours passed like eons. If she had to go out, she kept spinning around, thinking she heard his voice. She never saw him.

So there she was, Saturday afternoon, just waking up from a night's sleep. Sleeping in as much as she could was part of her weekend routine, as at least with sleeping she could see him in her dreams. He was in almost every one, and in them she would say things to him that she was afraid of scaring him away with in reality.

The first seven seconds of waking up were ignorant bliss because she didn't know where or who she was or why she was waking up so late or who she was doing it for. Then she remembers, and everything comes flooding back. Him.

Already, she could see the world becoming blurry. Something started to crowd her vision but nothing was coming down her face. She knew if she blinked, it would be all over. Eventually she had to, and she just stayed on her bed for a while. Not forever, she thought, even if she may have wanted it to be. At least she did before she remembered she would see him again.

She heard a knock on her door, which was rare for the weekends because her family knew how poor of a mood it put her in. Still, she found herself saying, "Come in."

The door opened slowly, and in walked her little brother, Roman, with two toy cars. She softened at the sight of Roman. Roman always had a strange look on Roman's face, like Roman was afraid of everything around. She supposed it didn't help that their mother's boyfriend was not exactly the kindest.

"I was playing cars in the hall and heard you crying," Roman nearly whispered, and she almost can't hear. She offers her hand and Roman came closer. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm alright, Roman." She faked a smile then wondered if Roman could tell the difference. "Wanna come up?" Roman nodded, and she made room.

They stayed like that, talking and playing with Roman's cars until dinnertime. It was a good distraction for her. She wasn't used to needing a distraction, but now that she did, it was a constant neon blinking sign in her brain that she tried so desperately to be rid of. Him him himhim him him himhim him hi mhimhimhimihhim in her brain like a playlist with only one song on it.

Sunday was eating dinner just for the dessert. It was watching paint dry. It was being on hold with your insurance provider, waiting for your internet video to load. Sunday was walking behind the slowest walker you could ever imagine when you're in a hurry.

And then it was over. She was so happy, she turned off her alarm before it even had a chance to yell at her. Her outfit had been laid out on her floor after hours of trying to decide. She picked out a blue shirt, since it was his favorite color. A white skirt sits lifelessly on the floor because he once said he liked it. She reaches for her gold necklace before remembering he told her not to wear it anymore.

"Gold jewelry makes people look pretentious," he said to her, so he never saw her in it again.

She didn't mind when he told her what to do. It made her feel like she was his, which she was proud to be. Her friend Rosana brought this up to her once, when they were hanging out in the living room and he was doing work in the shed. Rosana said it in a negative way, though, like it wasn't a good thing to be talked to the way she was.

"I like it. I like... him." she said, voice fading at the last syllable.

"Do you?" Rosana responded. "Or do you just think you'll never find someone better?"

"I-I thought I did. Yeah. We- We love each other." It made her think. Thinking made her put her head down and furrow her brows. She was at least glad he had never said anything about that. Without her head, she doesn't know where she'd be. Not that her brain was the leader in her decisions. Her heart often got the upper hand.

Turns out, he had come inside for a drink in the middle of their conversation and had been listening from the kitchen. After Rosana left, they had a talk about it. Rosana never came over again. Their talks usually ended in one of three things: 1) him getting what he wanted, which took up the majority of the talks, 2) Roman or one of the neighbors (depending on if the talk was inside or out) asking them to keep the noise down, or 3) a purple-turned-yellow discoloration on her skin. Not that he hit her.

He would never try to hurt her.

She just felt bad for Roman. Rosana was Roman's favorite, always being willing to play cars when Roman's friends were busy and sometimes even tucking Roman into bed.

Sometimes she found herself resenting him, because Roman always looked so sad when playing alone. Then he wraps his arms around her waist and she forgets why she ever did so much as think about doubting loving him forever. But then she's left again. She does something to upset him and he says something that he later convinces her he regrets.

She felt lonely too. She wondered it Roman knew that. Sometimes it was when she was with him, which she felt guilty about. They would be out to eat and he would be oddly friendly with the waitress, something that she had to force herself to get used to. He was very good-looking, so she couldn't really blame the waitress for smiling at him noticeably more than the waitress smiled at her. At least that's what she's been telling herself since the first time. She had so desperately tried to ignore it, but once she touched his tie, it was over. Once the waitress left, she made the unwise decision to start a talk.

He immediately shut it down, saying he was just being friendly, that she was probably just imagining the waitress smiling at him more. But she knew that wasn't true. She swallowed the pain she feels when he doesn't believe her about things like this.

Sometimes, she still thought about what Rosana said that day on the couch. Do you just think you'll never find someone better? Was that true? Could she even find someone better if she wanted to? Was there anyone better than him? He was nice to her, on his good days - and even on his bad days, it wasn't like she was waiting for him to do something so terrible to finally be able to writhe out from underneath his control. She liked him. Loved him. She was sure he loved her too. He chose her. He continued to choose her. Every day.

She tried to push back the wondering of different her life would be if he didn't.

Those were the thoughts that flooded her brain on her walk to see him. She almost forgot. How could she? She had been ready for this all forty-eight eons.

When she saw him, her heart just about leapt out her chest and into his arms. In her weekend dreams, he'd be smiling at her today, one of those half smiles he does when he tries to play off his happiness.

But he didn't do that half smile. His grin reached his ears when he saw her. She ran to him before he picked her up and spun her, both laughing. She wished Rosana could see them now. Would a bad guy act this way? Rosana was so dramatic.

They spent the day at his place this time, which she didn't particularly enjoy. In fact, she tried to avoid it as much as she could. Was there anyone who enjoyed having to step over bottles of beer and boxes of cigarettes and half empty bags of cocaine - just to get to the bathroom? It was a landmine. Not to mention it smelled like ashtrays and cheap weed. When she was at his house, there wasn't really anything to do except watch him, because if she took out her phone, he would just complain about her never "living in the moment."

Watching him do one line after another on the coffee table was torture for her. She couldn't help scrunching up her nose and sighing to herself. Not that she had to try to be quiet with it. He wasn't even in this world anymore.

All throughout the day, she didn't ask him if something is wrong. He didn't like that.

That night when settling into bed, shortly after making her way home from him, she got a call from his sister Robin, one of the few people he is generous enough to let her be around. They had becoming closely acquainted in the past few months. She picked it up with a hesitancy, and immediately every other thought was drowned out of her head when she heard yelling. It wasn't just one person, though. She couldn't understand any of the things the voices were saying. Couldn't make them out. Then - a close whisper.

"Can you come over?" Robin is surprisingly calm. Goosebumps. Goosebumps upon realizing Robin is probably calm because of how often their parents fight. She nodded; then, remembering that Robin couldn't see her, she responded, "I'll be right there."

She didn't bother knocking. She knew better. Instead, she used the back door to look in and see if it was safe for her to come in at this moment. She didn't hear yelling, and she didn't see either of their parents, so she entered.

Robin's parents should be divorced. She wondered why they were even together in the first place. She assumed the reason they are still together is that both of them are too stubborn for their own good. They do not seem to recognize the fact that maybe staying together is hurting their familt worse than if they broke apart.

After comforting Robin and confirming her safely in bed, she makes her way to his bedroom. When he locks eyes with her at the doorway, she can't help but smile.

They lie in bed for a while in silence. She wanted to say something, but she figured after the night he's had, it's probably better like this. What-ifs had already flooded her mind anyway.

If asked, she could pinpoint the exact moment the felt the mood shift. The air was colder. Heavier. His bed suddenly felt full of secrets and the couple bathed in them. Her hand moved along his head, petting him like she would her grandmother's cat, without the massaging that she only hoped would make the cat more friendly.

She felt it, and she did not like it. It was not just the mood that shifted, it was him. His mood. She felt it. Her voice struggled to contain itself as it whispered: "What's wrong?" She knew there was a risk in asking him this, as he simply does not talk about his feelings. Very occasionally, he would call her in tears, though. These are some of her favorite moments of their relationship because of the rarity. She knew better than to bring them up.

Surprisingly, he gave in. "I was fine on my own, you know. I told Robin not to call you. I'm used to it."

"That's exactly why you aren't okay." She tests her patience.

"I don't need you in same way you need me. When will you get that?" echoed in the room as he turned on his side, his back to her.

And the earth deflated.

What words could possibly suffice?

She tried to speak, "I'm gonna-" and she watched him flinch slightly at the sudden sound. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Silence.

"Fine."

In the shower, the tears fall quick. Her throat was clogged and she couldn't seem to change that, even after tilting her head back as far as it can go and opening her mouth for the water to flood into. Her tightly closed eyes threaten to relax, and the stinging pain she felt when they do was bliss compared to what she felt just a few minutes earlier.

It was moments like these she thinks she might leave him, but she knows she could never survive. What's life without every emotion?