by Ali Merci
Asa wondered if Carmen would be the kind of girl who ran away from the shelter and towards the rain instead.
He could see her doing something like that. He could also see himself following her into the downpour, not really too bothered about getting soaked. He just wanted to see that spark of life in Carmen’s eyes and her lips stretch into a carefree smile.
Asa also found himself wondering what it would’ve have been like if she was here now. He wondered what it would’ve been like to grab her hand and lead her to the lawn, to stand down there on the grass and kiss her in the rain.
Stop it, he chided himself. Stop thinking of Carmen. You’re supposed to hate her. So hate her.
An aggravated sigh left his mouth.
“Bailing on your own party?” He heard Wyatt chuckle from behind him. “That’s new.”
“Well,” Asa shot him a sideways glance as Wyatt stepped into the space next to him, “technically, its Lyra’s party. And Hayden’s. And yours. I didn’t know about it until tonight.”
Wyatt huffed, shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. “Yeah, we thought it was worth a shot.”
“A shot at what?” Asa asked curiously.
“Providing you with some form of distraction,” Wyatt replied, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Asa blinked. “I don’t need any distractions.”
Wyatt snorted. “Of course not. Swimming seems to be doing that for you.”
“What do you mean?” Asa turned to face him fully, mouth pulling down into a frown at the corners.
“Just that you’ve been throwing yourself into it a lot lately. A lot more than usual, that is. You spend every single spare period in the pool, and then on the weekends, you’re busy at that local swimming club.” Wyatt lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Don’t you want to catch a break or something?”
“Nope.” The response was quick, just like all of Asa’s conversations were now: flat, ingenuine and no thrill of trying to read between the lines.
Wyatt sighed and was about to say something when his expression suddenly brightened and he grinned at Asa. “Wanna go get ice cream?”
And despite himself, Asa’s lips curved into a smile. “Ditch the party? Hayden and Lyra would kill us.”
Wyatt’s grin only seemed to widen. “That’s the icing on the cake for you.”
Asa laughed, before stopping suddenly and shooting Wyatt a confused smile. “Wait, what’s the cake then?”
“The privilege of my presence, obviously.”
Asa snorted, lifting his hand to slap the back of Wyatt’s head before shaking with silent, affectionate laughter, and then they were sneaking out of Lyra’s house, climbing into Asa’s truck and driving down the rainy streets.
Once they’d found a good enough ice cream parlour, Asa and Wyatt walked back out, each carrying a waffle cone that had three layers of ice cream, all in different flavours of their own pickings.
Wyatt got into the driver’s seat this time around, telling Asa he should just enjoy the object of his obsession without being bothered to keep an eye on the road at the same time.
Asa laughed, his first genuinely carefree and unrepressed laugh in what felt like forever, but got into the passenger seat nevertheless, because he indeed would rather enjoy his treat than be distracted with the task of driving.
Conversation flowed easily between them, and then the topic switched to swimming and the upcoming meet.
“Coach is going crazy, man.” Wyatt chuckled. “He’s driving us insane too.”
“Well, obviously.” Asa sighed contently, too engrossed in the ice cream to be thinking of anything else. “It’s his last year at the school, isn’t it? He’s retiring after our batch graduates.”
“I know,” Wyatt muttered. “I don’t want to let him down either. Now that you and Carson are officially off the participants list, he’s been on my back every single day.”
There was that bittersweet throbbing in his chest again at the reminder of what he lost, but Asa also felt an odd sense of peace at the fact that it wasn’t eating away at him the way it initially had.
“Don’t worry about it,” Asa said, shooting Wyatt a look and then knitting his brows together. “You know, I may not be able to take part in it but I can help you.”
Wyatt’s face lit up with that megawatt grin of his. “Yeah? That’d be perfect, man. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it...” The words died in Asa’s throat, and whatever feeling of content he’d just been experiencing—any ounce of bliss he’d just had—faded away and left a trail of coldness in its wake. Wyatt had turned into a street that would get them away from any traffic, and Asa recognised it as the one that Carmen and he had walked along to get to the parking lot from the self-service ice cream parlour on the night of their date.
Asa’s eyes searched desperately for a particular lamppost amongst the row of them dotting the sidewalk and there it was. There it was.
The lamppost that kept flickering on and off over and over again (unlike the other ones that operated perfectly), emitting a sort of buzzing noise each time the bulb went off and came back on.
The lamppost that he’d kissed Carmen under.
And then his eyes trailed down the path, and he could see it now: the moment from their night materialising right in front of his eyes like he’d been standing from the outside back then and watching it happen instead of taking part in it himself.
There they were—Carmen and Asa—with their arms wound around each other, sharing quick kisses as they tried to get to his truck without tripping over each other’s feet and stumbling to the ground.
He could hear it now: her giggles dissolving into his light chuckles and then the sound was gone, getting carried away with the wind, never to come back again.
The ice cream turned to sand in Asa’s mouth, and just like that, the hollow feeling in his chest returned.
•••
“Something happened today,” Carmen told Gloria during one of their sessions with a bounce in her knee, feeling sort of accomplished about what had happened.
Gloria’s smile widened, seeming to pick up on Carmen’s good mood. “Yeah?”
Carmen nodded, feeling at ease with herself after the many weeks she’d sat on this very couch, in this very room. “I, uh, well, there’s this girl—her name’s Joyce. I’ve known her since sophomore year but every time she’s tried reaching out, I just shut her down, you know. Her birthday invitations, sleepovers or just an afternoon of hanging out.”
“And you accepted it this time?”
“No.” Carmen’s lips twitched and then a smile broke out on her face. “I made the offer this time. I asked her if she would like to go watch a movie or something.”
“That’s great, Carmen.” Gloria nodded approvingly. “Really great.”
Carmen smiled softly, then looked down at her hands. “She’s, she’s nice. A good person, I suppose. I think she was surprised I was making the first move to actually be more than peers, to be something like friends.”
“You’re making an effort, that’s what counts.”
Carmen merely shrugged in response, humming softly.
“Carmen?” Gloria’s voice broke the brief spell of silence that’d fallen over them.
“Yeah?”
“Why do you fidget so much with that necklace you wear? I’ve noticed you always reach for it when you’re anxious or uncomfortable.”
Carmen didn’t respond, not right away at least. She didn’t think anyone would actually ask her that.
“Um,” she began, and then paused to collect her thoughts. “It belonged to my mother. It—it reminds me to hold on. That no matter how bad things get, I need to keep holding on.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Carmen for a few seconds. “Hold on to what, Carmen?” Gloria then asked. “Do you use the necklace to hold on to yourself? Or to your past?”
Carmen averted her gaze. “What difference does it make?”
> “All the difference,” Gloria told her. “Holding onto yourself means using your own self as an anchor, letting yourself believe that you alone are enough to pull through something, but holding onto your past is allowing your misfortunes to define you. If so, then that necklace is no longer an anchor, is it?”
“No,” Carmen whispered, throat tightening. “No, it becomes dead weight.”
Gloria smiled. “So why do you hold onto the necklace?”
“I guess it…It reminds me of all the pain. I want it to be a reminder that I survived all these years, but whenever I look at it, all I do is remember the bad.”
“Maybe sometimes you can’t change things, Carmen,” Gloria said softly. “Did you ever consider that? That maybe the necklace won’t become an anchor, but it’ll always remain a dead weight?”
“You think I should get rid of it?”
“Do you want to get rid of it?”
“I want to be happy.”
“And what does that mean to you, Carmen? What does being happy mean?”
Carmen’s eyes flickered towards the window to her left, watching as raindrops raced each other down the glass, blurring the view of the streets outside it would’ve otherwise provided her.
“Being able to let the good things in, I guess,” Carmen murmured eventually, sighing as she relaxed into the cushions. “And learning how to let go of all that brings me down.”
“So, what’s the problem, Carmen?”
Carmen’s stomach knotted, her breath faltering as it hit her again and again and again like a punch to the gut. “I’m supposed to let in the good things,” she said in a low voice, regret lacing every word.
“Yes…” Gloria frowned, looking at her curiously.
“There was something good I’d found, something that genuinely made me happy…” Carmen’s heart paused, then resumed, stopped, then restarted all over again as the sudden realisation struck her like an arrow to the chest. “And I—I didn’t know how to let it in… So I let it go instead.”
•••
January came to an end a little faster than Carmen expected and for that, she felt a little grateful. But it also meant that Gloria had to always keep the window shut now, because unlike the on-and-off drizzles in the previous month, February brought with it a constant downpour.
“Tell me about the boy.”
That threw Carmen off guard, and it took her a good two minutes to regain her composure as she stared at Gloria with hesitancy in her demeanour.
“My cousin?” Carmen asked, all the while knowing exactly who it was Gloria was referring to. And that it most definitely wasn’t Hunter.
“No, not him. You told me he was your Achilles’ Heel, one of your weakest points.” Gloria’s dark eyes examined Carmen’s face for a fleeting moment. “I want you to tell me about the other one, the one who you said was a source of strength.”
“I don’t see the point in me talking about him. He’s not the problem here.”
Gloria smiled, her eyes patient and knowing. “You wouldn’t be here if you knew exactly what your problems were, would you?”
Carmen huffed, a panicky feeling washing over her. She didn’t want to talk about Asa. She couldn’t.
And that was exactly how she knew she should talk about him. But her lips remained shut, sewn together with threads made of steel.
“Why don’t you like talking about him, Carmen?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied matter-of-factly.
Gloria lifted both her brows at that. “No? That’s interesting, considering it took losing him for you to decide to get help.”
Carmen’s eyes tore away from watching the heavy shower outside and snapped to Gloria’s, her breath hitching.
“No, it isn’t. I’m here because of what happened at Thanksgiving.”
A soft sigh left Gloria’s mouth and she leant back in her seat, cupping her chin as she peered at Carmen.
“I thought we’ve been through this Carmen,” she said gently, but her voice still managed to be firm, not allowing Carmen to find a way out of this conversation. “Yes, you let in everything that you’d kept buried about your past after what happened at Thanksgiving. And yes, that was what made you realise you needed to talk about it to someone like me, but you didn’t take that step, did you? Even after that night, you didn’t tell your dad you were thinking of getting help.”
Carmen shook her head, fingers playing with each other as she felt a lump rise in her throat. “No,” she said hoarsely.
“So what did finally make you take the next step? What made you realise you didn’t want to go living like that for the rest of your life?”
Carmen’s vision blurred and that lump in her throat grew to the point that it became quite painful. “Losing him,” she choked out. “Losing Asa made me decide enough was enough.”
“So, tell me then, Carmen.” Gloria’s tone was gentler this time. “If he was an important person to you that losing him was a wakeup call, do you really believe there’s nothing to talk about when it comes to him?”
“No,” Carmen mumbled, then surprising herself and Gloria too, she suddenly cracked a smile. “I could go on talking about him, to be honest.”
Gloria tilted her head to the side. “Is that why you’re here? For him?”
Carmen’s smile faded, and she knitted her brows together really hard, feeling her stomach coil into a tight ball before the truth dawned on her. Clarity uncoiled the knot in her stomach, easing her nerves and allowing Carmen’s lips to form a peaceful, self-content smile.
“No,” she said softly, but decisively. “No, I’m here for me. I want to get better. I don’t want to live in the constant fear of losing someone and cutting off everyone I meet from my life before I’ve even given them a chance. Just because there’s a possibility that they may get close enough to hurt me.”
“And is that why you let him go? Because you were scared he might one day hurt you?”
Carmen’s lips twisted into a frown, her forehead wrinkling. “No,” she said carefully, considering her response. “I let him go because I’d already hurt him. And I didn’t want to keep dragging him down with me just because I was too caught up in my past.” Carmen pressed her lips into a thin line, forcing the words out even when she wasn’t sure how she felt getting to the part of her life where Asa was involved out into the open. “I felt stuck, like I was in limbo. But he was in a place where he’d already started to grow as a person, and I didn’t want to be the one holding him back.”
“And why do you think you’d be holding him back? Because you weren’t sure if you’d make any progress with dealing with your mother’s death?”
“Because I wasn’t in a place where I could’ve given a relationship what I needed to give it, I guess,” Carmen paused then sighed. “But he was ready to give his all, and I let him believe I was ready too. So that when I couldn’t live up to it, well, I think it made him feel like…like I didn’t value him as much.”
The heavy rain outside seemed to fall back into a calmer shower, the droplets no longer hitting the window like tiny bullets. It cast an odd sense of tranquillity over Carmen’s state of mind just then.
“What made you feel like you couldn’t offer to that relationship what you needed to, Carmen?” Gloria tilted her head to the side, her rich eyes boring into Carmen’s. “Or to any other kind of relationship in your life, whether it was friends or even your father, for that matter? Was it the circumstances of your birth? Did you maybe think that your mother being raped meant you didn’t deserve anybody’s affection?”
This was something that had plagued Carmen’s mind a lot for as long as she could remember—during sleepless nights, when she was adding a new entry into her art journal, or moments when she’d sit back and watch students stand in groups, so unapologetically comfortable around one another.
And now that she was being made to say it out loud, she felt surer than ever about her answer.
“I don’t think so, n
o.”
This seemed to catch Gloria’s attention because there was something akin to surprise on her face for a brief second before it disappeared. “So that part of your past doesn’t bother you?”
“It,” Carmen frowned, opening her mouth and shutting it again, repeating the action at least three times before she finally found the right words, “I mean, I don’t hold my mum accountable for that or anything. I know she’s not at fault there and—and ultimately, I hate whoever hurt her that way. I’ve—I’ve never dwelled too much on what it meant, I guess. Never looked at myself as something that was the result of a rape.”
Gloria tapped her chin with her forefinger, her face unreadable as she just looked at Carmen unblinkingly. It was a few minutes before she spoke again. “All right, Carmen.” She nodded in something that looked like approval. “You seem to be pretty confident about that. So what aspect of your past do you feel is a burden? If it wasn’t the circumstances of your birth, then what do you think blocks you from opening up to people?”
And there it was. The core of all the pain and the guilt that had crept into the crevices of Carmen’s entire being.
“Mum’s death,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I feel like visiting her grave or something. But then I ask myself if she’d want that because I—I feel like I was the reason she chose to leave and—and it made me wonder if perhaps going to her resting place would somehow be considered a disturbance. Because she wanted to get away from me, right? And I—I don’t want to take that away from her by going anywhere close to where she’s found her peace.”
“So you blame yourself for your mother choosing to kill herself?”
Carmen shifted in her seat, not meeting the woman’s eyes, but she nodded stiffly regardless.
“And is that why you keep people at bay?” Gloria asked, lacing her fingers together and placing them atop her raised knee. “You’re afraid that your presence in their lives would do them no good because you believe your own mother didn’t want you?”
Carmen swallowed audibly, feeling like there were a bunch of needles pricking the back of her throat. “It’s just…if I could cause so much pain to someone when I was just a six-year-old, then—then how much pain would I be able to inflict now? How far off the edge would I end up pushing someone one day?”
