Doo doof
A predictable, steady sound. An ancient rhythm I recognize. A tribal drum that doesn’t speed up or slow down. A sound that enters me, not through my ears, or even my skin. A sound that speaks directly to my soul.
After what feels like a lifetime of pain, a lifetime of fighting and losing, I come up for air. I gasp and breathe and then finally, when I can’t fight anymore, I accept defeat and let my eyelids drift shut. A thick blanket of slumber cloaks me. It lands softly. It’s warm, black as the night itself, and pleasantly weighted. It’s a comfort. A consolation.
The sound of his heart beating against mine rocks me gently from side to side, as sleep drugs me.
32
Lennon
Iwake,confusedandpinned down. It’s dark, my bedding is tangled, and I’m not alone in my bed. Connor is still here, still with me. Still lying behind me with his arms around me.
He must sense that I’ve woken because there’s a subtle change in his breathing. Long, steady draws shorten and falter against the back of my neck.
“Morning.” His lips are so close to my neck that the word runs down my spine. His voice is soft and hoarse. Awake, but still run through by dreams.
“Morning.”
“Will you be okay if I let go?”
It hits me in distinct, mortifying stages that he’s not just holding on to me now. He held me all night. He didn’t let go when I fell asleep, and he didn’t let go while I slept. His arm is around my chest, his hand knotted in my T-shirt. It relaxes microscopically when he speaks, in anticipation that my answer will be yes.
My hand clenches around his wrist. It’s a reflex. An action without sentient thought.
“Can you hold on for one more minute?” I ask, surprising the crap out of both of us.
He doesn’t reply, but he does move closer to me. He’s so close I can feel his nose and lips in my hair. I can feel the warmth of his body. The meat of his chest, the weight of his arm. He nestles closer to me until we’re so close there’s no earthly way to describe what we’re doing as anything other than cuddling. Snuggling like pack animals and primates do.
And honestly, it’s kind of nice. It’s soothing and calming. It holds me together in a way I didn’t know I needed. A way I didn’t know I’d been missing because I’m not sure anyone has held me like this before. Rounding up pieces of me that have been floating in the ether and squishing them back together.
For his part, Connor enjoys it. He must because he makes soft, happy sounds and wriggles his feet against mine. He presses his forehead against the back of my skull and holds it there, inhaling quietly and making a softer, happier sound.
I know I should move. It’s weird as hell to be letting a guy hold me like this, but I can’t remember why that is.
At last, the hand on my chest moves. There’s a slight scrunch of fabric and a slow tug as his touch is rescinded.
I roll over involuntarily, unsure if I’m doing so to watch him leave or to stop him from going.
“Come on,” he says, giving me a firm tap on the shoulder, “we can still see the sunrise if we hurry.”
“Ugh. The fucking sun,” I grumble as I roll out of bed and grab my jacket.
We both go out in our pajamas. Him with slippers on his feet, me with my unlaced Vans. We don’t talk, but there’s a quiet camaraderie to our movements. An understanding, a closeness, that wasn’t there yesterday.
The sun is already peeking over the horizon when we get to the roof. Pale dusty shades hover in a broad arc above the skyline. We sit on the little bench again, like we did last time, only this time, it doesn’t feel strange where we’re touching. It feels strange where we aren’t.
The sun rises without fanfare today. A light with a dimmer switch that’s slowly being turned on, instead of an explosion of fireworks. The sky changes slowly, hazy gray to hazy blue in increments so tiny that I can’t spot the exact changes. I only know that night has ended and a new day has dawned.
Connor sits silently next to me, the light and warmth inside him competing with that of the sun. Even though we’re outside and it’s chilly, I feel the same as I did when I woke up this morning: comforted and contained.
Still, it’s not lost on me that Connor has no possible way of understanding why I was the way I was yesterday. I don’t think anyone can get away with a performance like that and not give the person they unloaded it on an explanation.
“It was Havi’s birthday yesterday,” I tell him. “It was…a hard day. It fucked me up because it was the first time since we were kids that we didn’t spend the day together. I knew he wouldn’t get in touch, but I still…I dreaded it. And then he didn’t, and it fucked me up all over again.”
“Is he a big birthday person?”
I laugh, and the smile tugs at my tear ducts. “He’s the biggest birthday person ever.”
