“I am for you.” I kiss the crown of her head.
It’s been ten days since St. Patrick’s Day and since things sort of changed between us. It’s nothing drastic, but enough change that my feelings for Josefine have evolved into something more fierce.
Our relationship doesn’t have a label, but we’re doing enough that Josie doesn’t feel overwhelmed or suffocated. And it’s enough for me. I’m not second-guessing what we are because I know she likes me. She’s allowing me in and that’s all I want.
“That sounds enticing.”
“Yeah?” I slip my hands under the water and cup her ass. She lifts her legs and wraps them around me.
“Yeah.” She tips her head back, lips brushing against mine ever so slightly. “But we’re not going anywhere until we’re done.”
I groan but peck her lips. “Tease.”
“And if you want me to go to the game tomorrow, you gotta show me that you’ve improved.”
I softly groan. “Really, Jos? I thought you’d come now because I’m yours and you’re mine. I’ll beg.”
I’ll never get over the tint of pink on her cheeks anytime I say that.
“That changes nothing, Garcia. I know you don’t care about this, but I really do.” She cups my cheeks, softly smiling at me. “I want you to learn. It’s important to me, and it should be to you too.”
Dropping my gaze, I say nothing because I don’t know what to say. She’s been teaching me for two months now and while I’ve slightly improved, I don’t believe I’ll ever learn. I keep begging that she give up, but she’s stubborn and won’t.
“Come here.” She unhooks her legs from me and grabs my hand, pulling me with her. We stop at the wall. She lifts up, sits on the edge of the pool, and motions for me to do the same. I don’t question and do as she says.
For a while neither one of us says anything. I think I know what she’s going to say and while I could work a way around the conversation, I decide to let it be. Usually anxiety spikes, sending my mind and heart to go manic, attempting to abort and run, hide, do something other than talk about what I usually would rather bury, but she somehow makes that not happen.
I can’t say my anxiety and dark consuming thoughts have disappeared, but she makes me feel really good. She’s therapyand medicine all in one. I feel anchored and high all at once with her.
I don’t think she knows the control, the grip, she has over me. I don’t think she understands what I’d do for her, how strongly I feel for her.
She grabs my hand and laces her fingers through mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
A knot forms in my throat and my chest tightens. “Uh…I…”
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I want you to know that I’m here.” She delicately traces figure eights on top of my hand, over my knuckles, along my fingers.
I kiss the top of her head, and stare over the horizon, absorbing my surroundings. It’s a pretty peaceful Thursday. The air smells saltier than ever and the seagulls are loud but not obnoxious. In the distance, I hear the ocean’s wave lap, and the sky is painted in pretty streaks of pink, purple, and orange.
I hardly see her. I don’t want to ruin today with the depressing memories, but I also do want to talk. It’s getting harder and harder not to speak about it. I stopped a long time ago because I didn’t want to sound like a broken record.
Puffing out a fatigued breath, I rake my fingers through my wet hair. I shift uncomfortably, feeling on edge, my gaze flitting to the deep part of the pool.
“I…” I sullenly laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” My throat constricts and my body feels painfully stiff.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” she softly supplies, still dragging her finger along my skin. “I’m here either way.”
I look down at her and she looks up at me. “I had to be sedated,” I somehow manage to say.
She doesn’t look shocked or confused; she just nods, and her gaze darts to our hands.
“They said he was dead, but I…” I clear my hoarse throat. “I couldn’t believe that. I was there. I saw it happen. I saw them do CPR. I saw his body and how his eyes…” My teeth clatter and I grind them to make it stop. I breathe out heavily and slowly. “Just an hour ago, he was laughing, and then he was not. They said he was dead, and my brain—they said I was in shock.” I don’t blink as tears fill my vision, blurring everything around me. “I had to be sedated and when I woke up, I had to hear it again and again because Mom couldn’t stop repeating it. It was like if she said it enough times, it wouldn’t be real. And then my dad, he…” I shake my head. “Leaving the hospital without him should’ve made it real, but it didn’t. Leaving the hospital was…” My voice cracks and I drop my head because the tears are coming and I can’t make them stop. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she whispers despondently like she understands, and I know she does. “Let yourself feel. Making yourself numb will only make you want to stop breathing. So, talk to me. Let yourself feel. It hurts and that’ll probably never go away, but you can share your pain with me. I can’t promise I’ll make it go away, but I’ll do my best to lessen it.”
She raises her hands, wipes my tears away from my cheeks, and continues tracing her finger over my hand.
“I don’t want to give you my pain.”
