Chapter 3: Perfectly Symmetrical
I stare at my phone, lying in bed. I just woke up. It's been two days since Jack and I went out, and he still hasn't texted me. I've thought about texting him, and April even told me I should check on him. Sighing, I text, "Hey, how are you?"
Ten minutes later, he responds. "Fine."
That's it? Not a 'Hey Melane, thanks for hanging out with me, I'm okay, how are you?'
"Are you sure?" I prod.
This time, half an hour passes, "Yeah."
Wow, Jack. Wow. Where's the conversation? I have to go see him. He's hiding something.
~~~~~JACK~~~~~
Melane couldn't have text at a worse time. I finish and set the knife down before wrapping my other arm up. I'm all about symmetry, you know. And, I just happened to have another bandage roll. It had to be a sign.
Ugh. How am I? Wonderful, perfect. Just swell. I text her, "Fine."
I grab the knife off the bathroom sink and rinse it. I thought that my first time would've been my last. But I kept thinking to myself. Four is a weird number. And only on one arm? It should be both, shouldn't it? If only I'd just done two, so I could just do two on the other arm and be done with it. And I wasn't really paying attention the first time. I just acted. Maybe if I pay attention to what I'm doing, I won't want to do it again. Yeah.
And then I grabbed a knife. I should buy a pocket knife, I thought. But then remembered that this is supposed to be my last time doing this, right? Right. No more after this. I'd sat on the edge of the tub and rolled up my sleeve. Nothing but pale skin on this arm. Pale, clean skin. A few moments pass and I was still staring, the blade in my left hand... I took a deep breath. A few more moments and the damage was done. There. Perfect. Then my phone buzzed. I saw Melane's name flash on my screen. Oh, not now. Not her.
I rinse the knife and sit back on the edge of the tub. Eight. Why eight? Is that enough? Will I stop thinking about it now? My phone buzzes but I ignore it. Eight isn't enough. I shouldn't do anymore on my arms though. Four was too much to hide, and now there's eight. The bandages can't cover much more. My legs, maybe? Could I do some on my legs? I undo my jeans and slip them down enough so I can see my thighs. Ten. Just ten. One on each leg. I should be good then. Ten is a good number. Good. I grab the knife with a shaking hand and press it to my leg... Already? That was too quick. Maybe just one more on this leg. But now there's ten, and the other leg, it's clean. Well I've thrown off the balance again, damn it.
I look at my other leg, ignoring the blood that's dripping on the floor. Just two on this one then. I'll be balanced, right? Sure, but I'll have twelve instead of ten.
A while later, and I have twenty total. Five on each arm, five on each leg. Balance. I'm scared, I realize. This is so much. How am I supposed to hide this? What do I do about my legs? Bandages won't fit, and I don't think I have anymore anyway. I've screwed up. I'll just have to let these scab over.
I clean the knife again and wipe up the mess I've made. Then I check my phone. "Are you sure?" the text reads. No, I think, tears forming. No, I'm not sure. I'm not okay, I swear. Sniffing, I type, "Yeah," and drop my phone, curling up on the floor. My legs burn. It hurts. It really hurts.
I'm still crying when I hear a knock. "Jack? It's Melane, open up."
Frantic, I shove the knife in the cabinet under the sink and close the door just as she walks in the bathroom.
"Jack! Are you okay?" I shake my head, unable to stop the tears. She sits next to me, hugging me tight. "What happened? Did you pass out?"
I nod. "I... I fell. Slipped on something. Hit my head on the tub." I sniff and try to stand.
"No, no," she holds me down. "Don't move. You could have a concussion."
~~~~~MELANE~~~~~
I knock on his door, feeling like something is very wrong. "Jack? It's Melane, open up." No answer. I slam open the door and survey the room. Not in here. Maybe he's in the bathroom. I find him on the floor, looking very miserable. "Jack! Are you okay?" He shakes his head, crying. I sit on the floor next to him and hold him tight.
Somehow, he manages to convince me that he doesn't have a concussion so he can upload the videos he edited last night. He was probably editing all night, he doesn't look like he got any sleep. I sit off to the side while he uploads, watching his face change. The tears have stopped now, and he looks almost content. He's focused and relaxed, just going through his daily routine. He really is cute, I don't know how I didn't notice before, he has big ears and a goofy smile that makes me feel so warm inside. I want so badly to grab one of his hands right now. But I can't.
When the first upload is complete, he turns to me, his eyes shining in the bright lights.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.
"Yes, Melane," he looks away, tugging at the ends of his sleeves.
"Are you cold?" I'd thought it was a little cool in here myself.
"A bit," he looks sheepishly into my eyes. I nod and find his thermostat. Well, no wonder he's cold! It's just fifty in here. After I turn it up, I go into his room and find him a blanket, draping it over his shoulders. He grins lightly.
As soon as he finishes uploading, he stands and stretches. "I'm about to record, Mel, I'll be alright, go home."
"No." I don't know why, but I just can't make myself leave him yet.
He sighs, "Would you like some coffee then?"
He sits down to record, glancing my way a few times as he sets up a game that requires this weird thing he calls a "Rift" over his eyes. He'd taped two green eyeballs over where his eyes would be. I vaguely recognize them as his signature septiceye.
"Are you just going to sit here and watch me?" He looks nervous. Maybe I should leave but... "Why don't you go take a nap? My bed's open."
"Uh, sure," I go into his room and close the door most of the way, but peek out of the crack.
"Top of the mornin' to ya laddies," he starts, and I have to hold a hand over my mouth to keep from giggling. It's much funnier in person.
At some point, my legs get tired and I sit on his bed. It smells like him. That thought makes my heart skip. He sleeps here, when he does sleep. I lay on top of the covers, staring at his ceiling. It's only two. But I did stay up later than usual after work last night.
My thoughts race as I try to fall asleep. Why was he so dull earlier? Did he just not want to text me? And why did he seem embarrassed when I asked if he was cold? Was he really nervous to record in front of me, or did he just want me to go away? Do I really think he's cute? How come I didn't notice before? Oh, Jack. What am I going to do?
~~~~~JACK~~~~~
I walk into my room around four, finding Melane under my covers, smiling in her sleep. Her black hair is flung over my pillow. She looks happy, so I try not to bother her when I sit on the edge of my bed. I didn't get much sleep last night, and my eyelids are like iron weights over my eyes. It's also really warm in here. I'd turned the heat down so I wouldn't get too warm in my sweatshirts, but then when I tugged on my sleeves, Melane thought I was cold. I was just trying to hide the bandages from her.
I yawn, looking at her sleeping so peacefully isn't helping. Laying down next to her, I set an alarm on my phone so she can wake up in time for work. She looks so innocent. I scoot a little closer, my face next to hers, our noses almost touching, and close my eyes.