Rachel
May 2016
I’m clapping and cheering so hard that both my hands and throat hurt, but I can’t stop myself, because my Karan is up on the stage, with his team, accepting his award for Best Prototype in Ubisoft’s Game Lab competition.
A lady next to me, who was also clapping along, gives me the side eye, but for once, I don’t care what other people think of me.
My heart is too full.
As soon as he gets off the stage, Karan makes a beeline for me. I can’t help it; my legs start to run towards him, too.
I leap right into his arms and melt into chest. Karan grips my back and thighs, spinning me around as joyous laughter bubbles out of his chest.
“I knew it,” I cry, unable to hold back my tears.
Karan stops spinning, peppering kisses on my hairline. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Refusing to let me go, he lifts my chin and kisses me as if no one’s watching. I’m so light I may very well float away.
When he pulls out of the kiss, I’m left gasping for air.
“I’ve got to go to the networking thing after this,” he says, eyes full of stars. “Come with me?”
“No, it’s okay.” I grab his hand and squeeze. “I’m feeling a bit peopled-out.”
Already, though the crowd is thinning, the edge of my skin is too sensitive, and my heart starts speeding up.
“Got it.” He kisses me one last time. “See you at home, then.”
I make my way out of the building, feeling an odd blend of surreal energy and anxiety. Only once I’m in the safety of our apartment do I sink back down to earth and let the exhaustion of the social event wash over me.
I fall onto the creaky futon in the living room. Well, living room is a bit generous. It’s the only room apart from the tiny bedroom behind me. The kitchen area, near the apartment door, is wide enough to accommodate a single person, and the bathroom is the tiniest I’ve ever had, but I love this place because it’s ours.
Mine and Karan’s.
I pull my laptop from the small coffee table, with plans to put on a movie and unplug my brain for the night. But first, I open my email, more out of habit than as a thoughtful decision.
My heart leaps in my throat when I read the subject line of the unread email from Océane:
Everything is fucked
I don’t wait a single second to open it.
It’s seriously hell without you here, Rachel. I wish I could just skip high school and go straight to CEGEP so I could moveto the island with you and Karan and finally get out of this fucking place.
I had gym class today, and I wasn’t lying when I told Miss Tracey that everything hurt. For real, Rachel, I swear I’m telling the truth. I don’t care that I’m twelve and supposed to be young and full of energy or whatever, because that’s not how I feel. I’m always so tired, and I don’t know why.
She made fun of me in front of the whole class. Then you can guess what Mom and Dad had to say about that. “You need to be more like your sister! You need to try harder! Put in real effort! Blablabla…”
I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to talk to, because literally no one except you believes me or understands me.
I love you.
Nausea creeps up my throat, and my heart shatters into tiny pieces for the hundredth time. Nearly every time Océane sends me an email, it hurts to read it.
But I do, because she’s right. No one else is there for her. She needs me.
It’s my burden to bear.
