He looked at me, horrified.
I mean, it wasn't a new thing. That's often the look people gave me, I'd obviously done something stupid again. Or I laughed out loud; I thought I had that under control.
I looked down at the floor, I couldn't meet his eyes anymore for fear that old habit of letting the hot, salty tears run down my face would resurface. I never really got that under control, sometimes I still broke and couldn't hold it in anymore. Those were the times when people would sigh and ask what was wrong, only concerned with getting back to their pervious task. That's okay though, my problems weren't as important as theirs. The times between those episodes were getting longer though. I think I'm getting better.
When I was little I discovered that the tears never ran out, I though if I didn't drink water I wouldn't have any left to cry out and embarrass myself, but that only got me into more trouble. I learnt instead to make them silent, at least then because no one was looking it never happened.
He didn't move, I couldn't even hear him breathing, so I stopped as well, sucked in just enough to last until he walked away, then I can decide if another breath would be worth it.
Maybe he'd moved on to disgust by now, that was the natural progression.
Hair fell in my face as I was looking at the carpet just in front of me. I pushed it back, it wasn't as long as it used to be, it was too heavy to keep long, the way I liked it. It would give me headaches and I could never hide those. Because I got them too often it also seemed like I was always complaining, better just to starting hating my hair as well, than to continue to annoy people.
It was getting hard to keep holding this breath. I wondered how he was doing it. Or maybe I couldn't hear his breathing because of the pounding of my own heart. Only a small part of it was left to make noise though, it broke a long time ago and never had a chance to really heal back together, the other part is probably too far-gone to revive now. All the better, maybe it won't be as hard to face the consequences this time.
I was beyond caring that he could see my shoulders sagging and that I was slouched so that my considerable size was more obvious than it usually was when I stood straight and sucked it in. I hated disappointing people because I was too big, a large instead of a medium. Photos only made it worse, so I avoided those, didn't need people seeing me if they didn't have to.
After disgust they normally walked away, why hadn't he moved yet? I chanced a glance under my fringe and was taken aback. He was angry.
I didn't know how to deal with angry, it took me by surprise.
"How could you say those things?" he barely whispered it, if my heart hadn't frozen when I saw his emotions written all over his face, in the way he clenched his fist at his side and his whole body looked tense.
I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to say all those things to you, but you would have figured it all out eventually anyway, why not get it over and done with in one fell swoop.
Instead, I opted for the cool shrug and the nonchalant sort of façade.
"I'm not making it up, I'm only repeating it." His look didn't change, I don't understand.
"Well stop it." I tried searching his eyes, why shouldn't I repeat those things, isn't that the point of learning, is that you can repeat the information and facts to others.
"But it's true, I am…" he took a step towards me, or maybe it was two, but he was suddenly right in front of me. Toe to toe, my nose to his chin so he put a crooked finger under my chin and tipped it upwards.
"If you must repeat something then get it from the right source, enough lies." He looked at me, disappointment again. But then he continued, "repeat this: you are beautiful."
"But I'm…" he shushed me with a finger to my lips, the same finger that had been holding my head up. But it stayed there, still raised so that I was looking into his eyes.
"You can hold your own head up, because you are a strong woman." We started walking backwards; well I was going backwards, he was moving forwards towards me.
"You are clever and creative. You are industrious and capable." With every other word we took another synchronized step. But I was moving on my own now, he wasn't touching me.
"You are funny and fun." He spun so that he walked next to me rather then in front of me. I turned away from his eyes to look forward.
"You are kind and forgiving." I rounded a sudden corner to see what he would do, if he would give up on me.
He followed.
"You are independent and smart." I stopped and he stopped with me. I turned around and faced him again, raising my eyes to his. Our breathing was unmatched but even.
"I have scars." My voice sounded foreign. What was happening? He didn't seem to notice, or he didn't care, as his hands snaked around my waist and provided the slightest coaxing pressure. I stepped forward so we weren't toe to toe; my feet were between his.
"You are worthy of love. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you."