Constant Pull

by Avery Kirk

  I felt him pick me up. He carried me the way a father might carry his child who’d been hurt. My head rested in the inside of his elbow, his cheek still touching mine, while his hand held my left shoulder. His other arm wrapped around the back of my knees so that I was a diagonal to his body, the fronts of our bodies pressed together. I felt intensely protected. It was perfect. My Kevin. He called my name with great anxiousness and I moved my mouth to answer him but nothing came out. It frustrated me. I couldn’t even hold onto him anymore. I felt my arms drop and I felt Kevin pick up his pace.

  Chapter 14: After

  I woke up to the feeling of something warm on my side and something cool on my head. And wet. I smashed my eyes shut hard for a few hard blinks before opening them and trusting what I saw. I was on my back and Kevin was propping his head up with his hand, hovering over me. The hotel clock said 11:53. PM I guessed.

  “Seven more minutes and we were heading to the hospital. You wouldn’t believe the story I had to tell the cab driver. It’s a good thing I have an honest face-or so I’ve been told.” He stopped short like someone who had caught themselves rambling.

  He stared at me hard. I wanted to get up, but I decided to wait. I ached everywhere. Kevin put his hand on my stomach and made circles to soothe me.

  “How are you…..doing.” He said. He seemed to not know what to say.

  “I’m OK, a little weird. I mean I feel just….weird. I don’t….know.” My words wouldn’t come.

  He seemed to understand. It was like we didn’t feel like talking.

  “Can I…? Well, I mean.” I sighed, rubbing my hands around my face. He waited for me to continue-he didn’t rush me. I dropped my hands, frustrated. “I’m tired. I mean….still. Are you?” I finally said. He must be if he’d been watching me sleep this whole time.

  He nodded, looking at the floor.

  “Will you. Sleep with me? In this bed, I mean?” My sentences were disjointed. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  “Yeah.” He whispered.

  I knew I didn’t have to explain that I actually did mean sleep. I desperately needed a drink of water and sat up slowly, the back of my arm quivering as I sat up until my shoes touched the floor. As soon as I did, I felt Kevin’s hand slide from where it was touching my wrist up the inside of my arm for support.

  “Do you need something?” He said, barely above a whisper. He was kneeling on the bed now, behind me. “I can get you something if you need it.”

  “I just wanted some water.”

  “OK, sit tight.” I sat there, unmoving. I purposefully didn’t let myself think about how I felt or what had happened. Still, I couldn’t ignore the pain on my side and lifted up my shirt to find a smattering of butterfly bandages that started on my hip bone and extended about 5 inches up onto my belly.

  “I think you might need stitches.” He said with a nod to my side as he poured water from a pitcher, his eyebrows coming together. “But I think you’re going to tell me that you’ll get it looked at tomorrow. We could go tonight. Doesn’t have to be the s-same hospital” He stuttered and got quiet at the end of his sentence, handing me my glass of water. It was like a weight fell on us both. With my entire being, I did not want to talk about what had happened. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I drank my water, holding the short glass with both hands finding small joy in the slightly cool feel of it. Kevin sat at the desk chair, his hip to its back. He divided his gaze between me and the darkness out the window.

  As the lack of conversation lengthened, panic welled up in me as I worried that he’d want to talk about this. I knew that he knew me well and would know how I was feeling but I didn’t want to risk it. He was the type of guy to air stuff out and get it off his chest. He might be going in that direction-I just didn’t know.

  I chanced a look in his direction, hoping he’d be intent out the window instead of me. He was. He looked older for a moment. His light pants had dirt ground into them in random places, a few grease stains, and spots of blood. His shirt was unbuttoned partially, exposing his T-shirt. There was much more blood on this part of him. He was soaked on his right side. My stomach got squirrely and my muscles tightened until I realized it must have been my blood, not his.

  I wanted to ask him if he was OK, but selfishly, I didn’t want to deal with any conversation at all. I tipped up my glass and let the water rest on my lips without drinking. I lowered the glass again and turned my lips into each other, moving the water around.

  I was about to ask him to turn on the TV for some distraction when he got up and reached into his bag. He pulled out a short stack of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

  I used the tip of my shoe and then the toe of my sock to get my shoes off one at a time. Thank goodness I was sensible enough to not wear dressy shoes. They would’ve never stayed-I stopped mid- thought and concentrated on the tacky wall art. Oddly, it soothed me. It was an orange sunset over a green pasture. The colors blurred into each other intentionally. There was a silhouette of a man who was meant to be a farmer and he reminded me of my Grampa. I felt the urge to cry but, I was able to shake it off before it was too late and I broke the seal.

  I heard the shower turn on. A moment later, Kevin stepped out of the bathroom. He’d taken off his button-down shirt and was just in his undershirt.

  “Hey,” he said with worry lines on his face. He walked over to where I sat, still on the edge of the bed. My blue polished toenails now my point of focus. I looked up again. “Do you feel like taking a shower? I’ll wait out here.” It seemed an unnecessary clarification. But after we’d been through, clarifications were just fine with me.

  “I don’t know what I want to do.” I said, weakly. “I don’t know if I want to take a whole shower.” What a dumb response. I didn’t care. The truth was, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts for that long.

  He continued. “OK, well I put a brand new pair of boxers in the bathroom and a clean T-shirt of mine. Can you put those on and lay back down?” He eyeballed me, concern growing in his eyes.

  I just nodded. I got up, this time he put a hand on my back and guided me to the bathroom. Once in, he closed the door behind me. I kept trying to not think. This was a big challenge. I wanted to ask myself what I wanted but I didn’t want any random thoughts to zip in my conscious stream. The sound of the shower was comforting but the humidity was making it hard to breathe. I turned away from the mirror and got undressed down to my under things. I didn’t want to look into the mirror. I felt like I’d lose control of my thoughts and emotions and I didn’t want to do that. I closed my eyes and washed my hands. I saw his two piles of folded clothes on the vanity. I guessed which one was meant for me. There was a washcloth on the top of the pile and I snagged it and used it to wash my face and arms.

  When I moved my legs, I felt the tightness where dried blood restricted my skin. I found the shorts and slid them on over my undies which had a blood stain on one side where they rested on my hip. His underwear was crisp white cotton with skinny navy blue stripes on them. The humidity started to bother me more but I was happy when I saw that the mirror was fogged up-relief from chancing a look at myself. I gathered my hair into a ponytail and wrapped my arms around my bare belly, noticing a vague ache when I did. I stood there, staring at a rogue hair on the white tile floor. I must have stood there for a while like this because the next thing I heard was Kevin’s fingertips bouncing on the door.

  “Mel? You OK?” Kevin said through the door.

  “Yeah, you can come in.” I had to clear my throat a bit; my voice was soggy and sounded far deeper than my natural voice.

  I realized at the last second that I was only in my bra and his underwear. He realized this at the same time, I think, because I noticed that he immediately tilted his head down when he came in. I still had the washcloth in my hand and I was still staring at the floor. He removed it gently, almost like he was silently asking for permission. He put an arm in the shower to re-wet the washcloth with warm water and sat
on the toilet lid. He very slowly turned me toward him. I could see him hesitate-mentally struggling with the idea of moving my arms out of the way. So I moved them up, over my chest-still folded. That way my bra was covered anyway. He put his left hand on my lower back and pulled me a step closer to where he sat. The empty hand that he set on my back was slightly rough and very dry which was a relief after standing in this humidity. My skin had already started to bead with sweat from the steam.

  I kept my eyes closed while he cleaned up the blood. I risked a look at him and immediately noticed that his face was pained in some way. This upset me and I took in a deep and uneven breath. He hesitated for a moment and then kept going, even more gently this time. I’d guess that he thought he had hurt me.

  Softly, he cleaned up the area around my wound that he’d bandaged while I was asleep. I was grateful for the white noise of the shower. It was loud enough that conversation wasn’t necessary. At one point, I thought he was going to try to talk. He’d stopped moving the rag. But he decided against it and kept smoothing the rough hotel rag over my belly until it was stained with pink. The cut was long but it wasn’t that deep. I’d cut myself enough times to know the difference.

  He pulled up one side of the boxer shorts to see if blood had trickled down. It must have, because he moved the washcloth up and down my thigh, lifting the side of my undies away from my skin to move the rag there too.

  He finished cleaning me up and leaned forward, setting his forearms on his legs after chucking the rag into the corner of the bathroom on top of his crumpled shirt. I didn’t know how to read him and honestly I didn’t feel like trying. I felt like he might be frustrated or angry or sad but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. I only hoped he wasn’t angry at me.

  I went to take a step back and give him his space-but before I could, he grabbed me around the waist and brought me into him. His hug was almost aggressive at first but then he remembered my injury-so did I-and he turned his head to the other side of my belly and twisted the waistband of his boxers that I wore into his fingers. I unwound my arms from my chest and cradled his head. We stayed like that for a long moment. I made myself think of random things so that I wouldn’t cry-knowing from before that I could let go at any moment. I just didn’t want to. A fat guy wearing rainbow suspenders and a shirt that said in big bold white letters “The Boss.” A kid going down the slide at a park and laughing. An annoying girl talking on her cell phone at the store. A weird yellow bird I’d seen on a fence while we were here. A tap dancer. Hanging a door. I let each image fill my mind until I was bored with it and moved to the next. It was enough to distract me for the moment.

  Kevin released me slowly, our skin sticking together for an instant with the steam. He put his hands on my hips at the end, squaring my body to his so he could double check his wound clean-up. He set his right hand, palm down on the center of my stomach and touched his head to his hand. We stayed this way for a long moment. Then, he stood abruptly and I backed up, still looking down. I re-wound my arms around me. He reached for the T-shirt that he set out for me and tossed it around in his hands, orienting it for me. Without saying a word, he slipped it over my head and held the arm holes open, waiting for me to put my arms in. He pulled it down for me and scooped my hair out from under it. He put his hand around mine and led me to the bed.

  “I just want to take a quick shower, Will you be OK?”

  I nodded and looked up at him, trying to show my competence. It was a lie. I felt like I was going to panic completely if he left me for 3 minutes. It was totally irrational but it’s just how I felt. I hoped he couldn’t read this on my face. I looked away a little too quickly. It was just a damn shower for goodness sake. He walked back to the bathroom and closed the door. A second later, he opened it again and left it cracked about an inch and a half.

  The shower had been running this whole time. I could see him moving around the bathroom from where the mirror reflected the door’s opening and it relaxed me somewhat. I looked around the room, wanting to respect his privacy and his trust in me for leaving the door open. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t it for me or if he did it for his own comfort. It didn’t matter.

  A wave of sadness came over me and recalling my random images from before didn’t help in the least. I sat on the edge of the bed and cranked my head to the side so that my ear was on my shoulder. It wasn’t comfortable, but I felt overcome so I didn’t pay much attention and let my body contort in this way. I felt my face crunch up and my breathing became erratic. I touched my toes together, popping my big toe in to and out of the other foot’s first two toes. In an effort to regain control, I pictured myself staining a long wood bar top over and over. Long and slow strokes, over and over. I made myself breathe deeply with each imaginary stroke but I didn’t relax my position. I said a few words, checking to see if they came out in English.

  I didn’t hear the shower stop but the next thing I knew, Kevin was standing next to me, the smell of soap finding me just after he did. He almost matched me, his boxers just a different color than the ones he’d lent me. He pulled the blankets back the rest of the way and swooped up my legs which I quickly brought up to my chest in a hug as I lay down on the pillow. He quickly walked around the bed and slid in behind me. He reached over me to push the lamp’s button. Darkness. I was instantly uncomfortable and instinctively stopped breathing and stiffened up until I felt his arm slip around my waist and he pulled me closer to his chest.

  I couldn’t help it this time. Without warning, a low soft groan left my mouth and I began to quietly cry in the dark. Kevin kept hold of me, tightening just slightly and running his arm resting above my head over the hair from my forehead and temple to behind my ear. It was his embrace and this rhythmic, soothing motion that kept me sane. I concentrated on my breathing, held his arm around me tight, concentrated on his clean smell and the feel of his breath on my ear, and allowed myself to drift to sleep.

  Chapter 15: Lightness

  That night I dreamt of fireflies. I felt happy, although I had thought that my sleep would be filled with nightmares. In my dream, I was standing in a grassy place where there were fireflies all around me. I tried and tried to catch them, but I was too slow. When I looked down at my hands, I found that they were alight with dozens of fireflies already. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. The hovered on my palms as if they were attracted to them somehow. It was like a living torch; I could move my hands and they stayed. I smiled brightly and looked up at a man who I didn’t know. But I was comfortable with him. He was young and clean looking. He reminded me of Kevin.

  I watched the fireflies and all but one flew away. It stayed on the palm of my open hand. I blew on it and it flew away. I heard a man’s voice in a gravely whisper very clearly say ‘thank you’.

  I woke up to the sound of a kid screaming. I gasped and sat straight up. It was a happy scream though, from a kid running past our hotel door and down the hall. Kevin was already up with sweatpants on and sitting at the table in the room looking at his laptop.

  “Damn kids.” He looked at me, smiling.

  “What time is it?” I said.

  “It’s still early.” He was eyeballing me. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” I sat up feeling the small surge of pain from my cut. I noticed that Kevin slept next to me but not under the blankets. The blankets on his side were unused. He slept on top of them right next to me hugging me while I slept. I looked over at him and pointed to the blankets. “Weren’t you cold?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Nah, not really. I tossed my sweatpants on after you fell asleep. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

  “Well done.” I said, rubbing my eyes.

  “You barely moved when you slept. I was expecting that you would be restless. But you weren’t at all. I was glad.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that’s weird. You didn’t sleep well, did you?” I said as I noticed the puffiness of his eyes.

  “Well, you had me pretty worr
ied.” He said quietly. “I do have some questions for you. When you’re ready. No rush.” He said, trying to sound off-hand.

  A small wave of dread passed over me. I couldn’t help it. It was the conversation I had been anxious about for weeks.

  He handed me a coffee he’d made in our in-room coffee maker. I thanked him. I knew Kevin well enough to know that he was not the type to let things mold in the corner of his mind. He had to surface things and work through them-it was just how he was built.

  His leg was bouncing so I knew he was all bottled up. He waited until I drank a sip from my terrible coffee before he started in on me.

  “OK, I have to just say this: Please never leave me somewhere with a cab without saying something or calling me. I mean, you just got a new phone. When some freaky bartender comes to tell me you’ve left and I should go with a cab driver, I hesitate. So I told him off. I thought for a minute that he trapped you somewhere and was trying to get me to leave, you know? Please don’t do that again. You acted like someone stabbed you and then you disappear. That wine girl, Gracie or whatever, came by afterwards and I was short with her because I had no idea where you went until the guy walked over. I actually had her check the bathroom for you because I didn’t believe him.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “What happened to you?” he said a desperate and bewildered expression on his face.

  I was quiet and anxious. I worried what he was thinking of me and I wasn’t quite sure how to put the experience into words. I just wasn’t ready to talk yet. I didn’t want to tell him that because I knew he’d been there for me when I needed him and I was unbelievably grateful. Actually, grateful didn’t quite cover it. I was in his debt.