"I wonder sometimes."
In this barely lit room of mine, her alluring eyes manage to draw every piece of my attention. Unconsciously illuminating the space between us with just the right amount. Diminishing any need to light the lamp on my bedside table. Entranced, I watch how her mahogany brown irises peacefully float in the pureness of white and protectively encircle the mystery of black. Engaged in a limbo of contrasts, easily threading one extreme with the other.
"About what?" I ask quietly, tentavily. Afraid that if I speak just a little too loud, the moment will be lost and the peace within her eyes will vanish with it.
But it doesn't. It barely even changes. The only thing that shifts is the motion of the hundreds of flecks of gold within her irises. Quietly swimming from one end to other. Blissfully participating to the whole of those mystifying eyes. The eyes that lured me into getting to know her, that enticed me to become her friend and that are tempting me to hope for more.
"Stuff." She breathes out. "Things." She continues after a few moments, in effort to enhance her explanation. Only she isn't. She's only blurring it up even more.
Her answer is as cryptic as her eyes, but I don't mind. It's what defines her. It's what defines one of the endless reasons why I've desperately fallen for her. Somehow and somewhere between our quiet whispers and comfortable staring, our bodies have shifted close to the other. Physically we aren't touching, which is quite atypical for us. For her. But mentally we're tangled up in the most intimate ways. And with each and one of her breaths delicately being puffed upon my lips and vice versa, I feel connected to her on every single level. I wonder if she feels it too and if she sees in my eyes what I see in hers. I'm not talking about possible feelings she might or might not have for me. But simply experiencing what I experience in instants like these. In these consequential moments that mean the world to me and that I store in my heart one by one. I hope she does. I hope it, because it feels quite wonderful.
"I wonder too sometimes." I divulge after
awhile.
I wonder every single time we lay this close to each other and every single night you wrap your arms around me. Every single time you quietly whisper that you love me with such sincerity, that I'd swear that those words had never left your lips before. Most of all, I wonder if there even can be an us beyond the us that we are now. If we can ever reach a higher echelon than the one we've already reached. I wonder if you truly are oblivious to what I feel for you or that you've known from the start and prefer to ignore it. I wonder what hurts more.
"You know. About-" I falter for a moment when I notice a slight movement of her lips. My eyes briefly shift to them, watching how they slightly part. "Stuff." I finish as I fixate my gaze on her eyes again.
Who knew a term like 'stuff' could give meaning to such a large array of frightening feelings, secretive emotions and hidden truths. I wonder if her stuff is as loaded as mine. I wonder if she knows that my stuff is loaded in the first place. The air is heavy yet light-hearted. We're completely relaxed and utterly at peace, yet no smile is able to break on our faces.
"Yeah?" She enquires in a hushed tone and it sends shivers over the whole of my spine. It's scary how every word she says and every single action she takes has an effect on me. No matter how little and insignificant it might seem in a strangers' eye. Nothing that she does leaves me unbothered.
"Yeah." I reply in a voice just a quiet as hers. And suddenly I can't hold back the hesitant smile that creeps on my face. I don't want this moment to shift but it's almost inevitable and that's okay. Because moments are supposed to end and new ones are supposed to start. It's up to us to thread one into the other and maintain the comfort you're residing in. It might take different shapes and forms, but it's there nonetheless. And as I see her bashfully smile back at me, I know that we've entered that new stage of comfort and I welcome it just as warmly as the previous one.
A gentle knock on the door and a voice that belongs to my mother alerts us of the dinner that's served downstairs, but it fails to interrupt us. We both get the message loud and clear but it doesn't make us move for even an inch. It doesn't make us jump apart or create awkward stillness's like previous times. It just confirms the daze we're both finding ourselves in. Her hand slowly creeps across the mattress until her fingers tentavily meet my own. They delicately start tiptoeing on mine as her gaze never once shifts from my eyes.
"We should head downstairs." She tells me unconvincingly. Uttering those words with the hint of a question, because she doesn't really want to head down there. She doesn't really want to face any other person that might be residing there. No matter how much she loves my dad's cooking, no matter how much she adores teasing Glen and no matter how much she likes shocking mom with her not so conservative statements. I know that because I'm feeling the same way.
"Yeah, we should." I retort just as unpersuasive as her. But we both know that we'll eventually go through with our statements instead of laying here in our indolent state. That doesn't keep us from lingering just a little longer on this small familiar bed of mine. It won't keep us from heading downstairs where everyone will already be seated and where we'll find a hungry Glen impatiently waiting for us, mom sternly reminding us of our lack of manners and dad playfully admonishing us from the side.
I know that because it happens every time Ashley stays over. And I wouldn't want it any other way.
--
"So, enjoying the food Ashley?" My dad asks warmly from across us. She briefly looks up from her plate with her mouth overfilled with pasta and a touch of sauce smeared by the corner of her mouth. My chuckling comes naturally as I slyly watch her from the corner of my eyes. Her zealous love and hunger for my dad's cooking and food in general is positively endearing. And I know my dad feels the exact same way.
"Hmm?" She mumbles through her chewing.
"I said; are you enjoying the food?" He asks again with an amused face. Ashley quickly chews down on the rest of the food and makes a show of swallowing it entirely before she finally starts talking.
"You know I do, Mr. C." She grins mischievously, completely unaware of the smeared sauce. I try not to laugh but as soon as she dives back in her plate of pasta, various giggles are released.
"Whaa?" She mumbles from down her plate. The whole table starts to laugh now and it joys me to see how she easily keeps us all amused without even trying. Without knowing it even. Even my mom who's always big on etiquette and protocol can't resist laughing at her antics once and awhile. It shows how she adjusted to this family over the years and how our family adjusted to her.
"Seriously laughing at ignorant people is not funny." She tells us sternly while pointing at us with her fork. "Mrs. C, I expected better from you. Isn't there a commandment that says that "Thou shall not laugh at people" or something?" She accuses half-seriously, half-jokingly.
I made the mistake to take a sip of my water just when she said that. I don't think
it takes a genius to figure out that said water was soon splattered all across of my
mother's tablecloth. I chance a glance at mom who I expect to be not amused by both our antics this time around, but I'm surprised to see her stifling a giggle.
"Oh, don't even get me started on you Spencer." She warns playfully while facing towards me. "Best friend my a-"
"Ashley." My mother cuts in sternly. Not even Ashley can get away with uttering expletives in her presence. Ashley mutters an unconvincing sorry as she fixes her
gaze on me. It's unconvincing because the mischievous grin she flashes me and the amused voice she uses is anything but regretful. I look at her with complete
adoration and a goofy smile plastered on my face. The light-heartedness of it all enchants my heart. I was afraid it would be completely lost after our little movie night when my actions and words betrayed me more than ever.
But Ashley didn't pry any further after my emotional outburst and I failed to divulge anything. She clearly still had it on her mind and I could sense her wanting to ask me about it a few times. But she bit her tongue and sucked it in instead. Preferring to let me take the lead when I was ready to confess. When I was ready to end my cowardice. I can sense the undying trust and faith she has in me. Even if I know that it pains her so much that I can't just step up and talk to her about this like I normally do. I wish I had that same faith in myself because I don't know if I'm ready to do what she's silently asking me to.
As for Gaël, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he knows of it. I always sensed his suspicions towards me and Ashley. But that night, his suspicions were rewarded and every singly inch of his face showed me his realization. And it scared me. It scared me and it made close up and run away from him. It's what I've been doing for days. Trying my hardest to stay away from him and avoid every possible judging stare. Every possible confrontation with the truth. Because, frankly, I don't know how I might react to any of his allegations. Even if he doesn't really seem like that kind of guy. Even if the only thing I'm really scared of is to hear the truth being told out loud instead of just hearing it echo in the safeness of my lonesome mind.
"You uh, you have something .." I slowly lean in a bit and bring my thumb to the corner of her mouth. Gently wiping off the remains of my dad's famous pasta sauce.
" … right there." I finish quietly. I let my thumb linger longer then necessary before I slowly (and begrudgingly) lower it. Unintentionally, or maybe very much intentionally, brushing her moist lip in the process. And that simple and brief touch combined with the intense stare she has right now brings back all of the familiar symptoms she's been causing for what seems a lifetime. All of the indications that warn me how
deep I've fallen and how dangerous this could get if it doesn't stop escalating.
I look down when I remember where we are and with who we're surrounded with. It's so easy to forget it all and to simply focus on her and me. To return to the Spencer and Ashley we were before dinner, when it really was just the two of us and where my mind didn't need to work and my eyes didn't need to shift.
I bashfully return back to the half-eaten pasta in front of me and continue to poke it as I see her doing the same. The table remains silent for a while until my mother decides to end it. Until she decides to alter the moment completely and invite uneasiness and awkwardness instead.
"So Ashley, how are things with Joel?" She asks innocently and the first sound she meets is the one of my falling fork hitting porcelain. I see Ashley awkwardly poke the little food she has in front of her from the corner of my eyes. Taking her time before she answers.
"Actually, we .. uh .. broke up." She retorts quietly, before she looks up to her. Sending a forced smile her way.
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. What happened?" She asks, prying even a little further, a little deeper. God bless my mother, because I love her. I love her caring tone and the genuine sorrow she's feeling for Ashley. I love her for loving Ashley and being so thoughtful of her. I love her for accepting Ashley as her second daughter, as an equal of me. But she has to learn to leave touchy subjects for what they are and not meddle unless she's been given the indication to do so. I guess that's where mother and daughter differ.
"Mom!" I interrupt in a squeaky voice, giving her an absolute horrified face.
"It's okay, Spence." She assures me, briefly glancing my way before looking towards my mother again. Suddenly everyone seem to be focused on Ashley and nothing else. Even Glen and his never-ending appetite seems to detach himself from the food in front of him long enough to listen to the reasons why King High's Golden Couple have called it quits.
"I realized that he uh …" She stops mid-sentence and I sense her eyes searching mine, but the coward in me tells me to not look back. To simply keep my eyes focused on everything but those orbs that so easily entrance me. That so easily dismantle me completely. I keep reminding myself that we are not in the intimacy of my dimly lit room. " That he isn't what I was looking for."
"And what are you looking for?" My mothers asks, voicing the question that lingers in the back of my mind. Asking what I've been wanting to ask for so long. And suddenly I love my mother for the braveness that I don't have. The braveness that I failed to inherit.
Once again I feel her eyes glancing my way, but this time I look back. This time I dare to mix blue and brown outside my room. This time I challenge myself to not be as petrified as I would be. As I should be.
"Racing hearts and clammy hands." She answers without missing a beat and without missing my eyes. But mostly, without missing my heart.