Like I let him
into the small corner where I live. He grabs my hand, squeezing it and kisses
the top of it, "Now stop trying to scare me off with talks of having kids
and area rugs and shit. I'm not going anywhere."
My
heart skips a beat.
I
am a real girl.
The
irregularly rapid heartbeat, combined with the warmth clawing around in my
belly, makes me hopeful that I'm not ruined. Maybe I am just broken. Maybe I
can be healed. It wasn’t just a first kiss. It was hope and possibility. And
like the sky was dark and the air was humid. I was alive again, or maybe for
the first time.
Either
way I was grateful.
Chapter Six
His
fingers brush along my belly, making a trail of heat and nerves. We've been
kissing like we're fifteen for weeks. I pull away and shake my head. He
whispers, "I just want to touch you." His lips call to me. I lean in
and kiss him again. My head spins from the kisses. Somehow, I end up on top of
him. His hands are dragging up and down my back, under my shirt. I sit up and
push him away. I climb off backwards. It's almost like a crab would walk, but
faster and twitchy. He knows I need a minute.
This
time is different though. I need more than that. I grab my shoes and cell phone
and run. I grip the cloth backs of my shoes and leave.
The
hallway of the penthouse feels like the one in the Shining. It's never ending
and I expect ghosts to be there. I push the button for the elevator in a series
of taps, like I'm sending it Morse code and telling it to hurry up.
I
hear the door, followed by his voice, "Emalyn. Come back. It's okay.
You're safe, Em."
Tears
flood my eyes, they never leave though. Instead, they make the tiny
kaleidoscopes to fix everything I see. I turn and run down the hall to the
stairs when he starts walking toward me. The cold air in the stairwell is
refreshing. I make it halfway down before I stop. He hasn’t opened the door. He
knows it feels like he's chasing me. I need the minute. I take a deep breath.
I
whisper into the silence of the hallway, "The world is tiny. It's a small
place where I have the control. I'm grateful. I'm grateful." I pull the
hand sani from my pocket and wash my hands and lips. It stings a bit on my
delicate, overly-loved lips, but the smell is divine. It's caramel apple. I
almost feel like Shell with her lipgloss, smelling so pretty. I put my shoes on
the stairs and sit on them. My socks touching the stairs are freaking me out.
"I'm grateful for being such a weirdo." I smile. At least I can worry
about the dirty socks I have to throw out and not the boy waiting for me in the
building somewhere.
The
pounding of my heart and the sweat on my palms start to diminish. The walls of
the room back off. Things have color again. It's a stairwell, so there isn't
much color, but enough to remind me that I am grateful I can see. I take deep
breaths and stand up. I slip on my runners and finish going down the stairs.
I'm alone on the stairs. I'm grateful for being alone.
When
I push the latch on the door, he's standing in the foyer. His pants are still
undone, I blush and remember it was my fingers that had done that. He chest
stretches his t-shirt. I focus on that and not the pity and excuses he has
flashing in his eyes. He's making them up for me. The poor orphan who the nuns
beat. If he only knew the truth. He wouldn’t make excuses. He would walk away.
I don’t know the truth of it all. I hear the echo of the gunshot still and know
it's bad enough, that even my brain won't let me see.
I'm
frozen in the doorway. The door to freedom and the outside, isn’t far from
where I'm standing. I take a step towards him, and not the door at all.
"Want
to take a walk?" He whispers when he sees the choice I've made. I've
chosen not to run. This time.
I
nod. He grabs a sweater from the chair behind him and pulls it on. He tosses me
a hoodie. It smells like him. I like the smell now. I grip it in my fingers.
"Why?" I ask.
I
can hear the smile in his voice
into the small corner where I live. He grabs my hand, squeezing it and kisses
the top of it, "Now stop trying to scare me off with talks of having kids
and area rugs and shit. I'm not going anywhere."
My
heart skips a beat.
I
am a real girl.
The
irregularly rapid heartbeat, combined with the warmth clawing around in my
belly, makes me hopeful that I'm not ruined. Maybe I am just broken. Maybe I
can be healed. It wasn’t just a first kiss. It was hope and possibility. And
like the sky was dark and the air was humid. I was alive again, or maybe for
the first time.
Either
way I was grateful.
Chapter Six
His
fingers brush along my belly, making a trail of heat and nerves. We've been
kissing like we're fifteen for weeks. I pull away and shake my head. He
whispers, "I just want to touch you." His lips call to me. I lean in
and kiss him again. My head spins from the kisses. Somehow, I end up on top of
him. His hands are dragging up and down my back, under my shirt. I sit up and
push him away. I climb off backwards. It's almost like a crab would walk, but
faster and twitchy. He knows I need a minute.
This
time is different though. I need more than that. I grab my shoes and cell phone
and run. I grip the cloth backs of my shoes and leave.
The
hallway of the penthouse feels like the one in the Shining. It's never ending
and I expect ghosts to be there. I push the button for the elevator in a series
of taps, like I'm sending it Morse code and telling it to hurry up.
I
hear the door, followed by his voice, "Emalyn. Come back. It's okay.
You're safe, Em."
Tears
flood my eyes, they never leave though. Instead, they make the tiny
kaleidoscopes to fix everything I see. I turn and run down the hall to the
stairs when he starts walking toward me. The cold air in the stairwell is
refreshing. I make it halfway down before I stop. He hasn’t opened the door. He
knows it feels like he's chasing me. I need the minute. I take a deep breath.
I
whisper into the silence of the hallway, "The world is tiny. It's a small
place where I have the control. I'm grateful. I'm grateful." I pull the
hand sani from my pocket and wash my hands and lips. It stings a bit on my
delicate, overly-loved lips, but the smell is divine. It's caramel apple. I
almost feel like Shell with her lipgloss, smelling so pretty. I put my shoes on
the stairs and sit on them. My socks touching the stairs are freaking me out.
"I'm grateful for being such a weirdo." I smile. At least I can worry
about the dirty socks I have to throw out and not the boy waiting for me in the
building somewhere.
The
pounding of my heart and the sweat on my palms start to diminish. The walls of
the room back off. Things have color again. It's a stairwell, so there isn't
much color, but enough to remind me that I am grateful I can see. I take deep
breaths and stand up. I slip on my runners and finish going down the stairs.
I'm alone on the stairs. I'm grateful for being alone.
When
I push the latch on the door, he's standing in the foyer. His pants are still
undone, I blush and remember it was my fingers that had done that. He chest
stretches his t-shirt. I focus on that and not the pity and excuses he has
flashing in his eyes. He's making them up for me. The poor orphan who the nuns
beat. If he only knew the truth. He wouldn’t make excuses. He would walk away.
I don’t know the truth of it all. I hear the echo of the gunshot still and know
it's bad enough, that even my brain won't let me see.
I'm
frozen in the doorway. The door to freedom and the outside, isn’t far from
where I'm standing. I take a step towards him, and not the door at all.
"Want
to take a walk?" He whispers when he sees the choice I've made. I've
chosen not to run. This time.
I
nod. He grabs a sweater from the chair behind him and pulls it on. He tosses me
a hoodie. It smells like him. I like the smell now. I grip it in my fingers.
"Why?" I ask.
I
can hear the smile in his voice
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