AN:
This story is inspired on a story idea that it trying my patience to
the utmost. 'Katharsis' (for tiny summary, check my bio) is still
a long way away from being anything more than just an epilogue on
paper but this is the sort of feeling I'm looking for in that
story. Besides that, I got inspired by an acting workshop I did for
one of my university classes in which we put together our own ten
minute act. In this act, holding hands played an important part and
during the final rehearsal I finally realized this was the thing I
had been looking for.
It was definitely one of the most fun and
important experiences in my life up till now and this idea plagued me
until I finally committed it to paper. I hope you'll enjoy reading
it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
- All This -
Nerves. A glance, stolen in his direction, but eyes fixed on the ground. Warm, slightly cramped and sweaty, but extremely pleasant. Feverish feelings of happiness, thoughts of more than just this, ideas, hopes of something beyond this moment.
Guilt because this means nothing, it's an act. Awkwardness because this is not something between us, but between the roles we play. But still that hopeful feeling that, maybe, this slight squeeze of his hand might be more than just an involuntary twitch.
All this from holding hands. All this in ten seconds. All this, lasting, continuing as the scene around us carries on. Our parents are talking, smiling in our direction. In their minds, our united hands this very instant symbolise the marriage they think they're planning secretly.
Still linked, we watch what happens around us. But as my own eyes find their way back to him every so often, I find myself hoping that he is thinking of me, more than of the others present.
That happy look on his face as he stretched out his hand, that content look, that warm and soft smile that gave my heart the first jolt, I can't seem to push it from my memories. And as we sit, awaiting the end of this forced togetherness, I can't help hoping that his smile was real, that he was really content as he reached out to me when I walked over to him.
The line between reality and pretending are fading. I can't tell what's part of the show and what's part of honest feelings. I've lost faith in my own mind as everything is blurring together.
Again my attention is forced back to our hands, linked on the table. Our eyes meet and we smile, understanding and grateful. I feel a blush creeping to my face and I pray that no one will notice. It's not right of me to feel this way. This is not part of the agreement. But I find myself thinking that I should forget about that. That I should allow myself these wonderful jitters.
I'm not allowed to do this. I shouldn't be thinking this, I shouldn't be feeling this. I shouldn't allow myself this leeway. He doesn't mean any of this. Not even those understanding smiles. It has to be part of the act.
I tell myself to focus on our surroundings so my heart won't go down this forbidden path. Once this is over, I won't have to see him again for a while. It would be better to stop right now, otherwise it might hurt too much after today.
Yet, if I don't have to see him for a while, perhaps it would be alright to give in to this weakness. After today, I'd just have to ignore him and stay away. I could do that, I'm strong enough. So why not...
I feel my hand squeeze his only a little. Whether he notices, I can't tell. His eyes are fixed on the table. Nervously I try to look at him, perhaps to read his face, perhaps to get him to look at me with that same warm smile. But before I can attract his attention, everyone starts to stand up from the table. It's time for goodbye.
Hastily we get to our feet and our hands let go of each other. I don't know who let go first, but that doesn't matter now. It's over, we're done for today. I won't have to see him now if I don't want to. At least, not till the next visit. One last time I study his face, looking for a hint of emotion. Does he feel sorry it's over? Does he feel relieved? His face is cool and straight and he avoids my glances expertly. I should have known better than to try and read him.
Hastily I turn away from him and say goodbye to my parents as they move towards the door. Goodbye, see you next time. Please do visit us again. Yes, I'll thank the teachers for allowing this occasion.
They've left, the two of us left behind. I smile just because I can't think of anything else. He avoids me once more. All of a sudden I find tears burning inside me and I want to curse him for ever letting me get my hopes up.
All this from holding hands. All this.