I slowly lower my arms and I caress her shoulders. She makes a soft sound at my touch and I hesitate for a second, to give her time to accept my nearness or to leave if she doesn’t feel comfortable with me.
When she seems to be relaxed, I put one arm behind her legs and the other behind her shoulder. I lift her up and take her to my room. At first she tenses up and opens her eyes, but then she slowly relaxes again and rests her head on my chest and I can feel everything all over again: the pain, the suffering, the sense of impotence. I feel all the weight I tried to leave behind me. It hits me like a lead weight, crushing my chest and leaving me breathless.
I climb the stairs and bring her to my room. I set her gently on the bed and pull up the covers. She turns to her side, resting a hand under her pillow and closes her eyes. After a few minutes, I can hear her breathing become regular and heavy.
I grab a blanket and some pillows from the closet. I prepare a space on the carpet and lay down at her feet. During the night, I get up repeatedly to check on her and to make sure her heart has not stopped and all of it is so damned familiar to me, so real and vivid in front of my eyes, despite all the time that has passed.
Here I am again watching over someone, someone who appears to me to be on the verge of death, trying to assure myself that she is still breathing and will live to see another day.
—
ALEX
I wake up in full hysteria. I instinctively bring my two fingers to my neck to control my pulse, hoping it’s not too fast. I look around and realize that I’m not at home in my bed.
I take a few deep breaths to shoo away the anxiety, I pull back the covers and set my feet on the carpet. I’m tired, in a terrible mood and, gauging from the light coming in from the window, probably late for work.
I get up carefully to avoid my head spinning and look around for my purse, which has my cell phone in it. I walk around the bed when a figure curled up on the floor makes me jump.
I stand frozen a few seconds, trying to breathe as slowly as possible, afraid that the slightest noise will wake him.
He is sleeping on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket with a pair of pillows under his head. His hair is mussed up, his eyes forced shut and there is visible tension on his face.
I kneel down next to him, undecided if I should wake him or not but then he moves in his sleep and I instinctively take a few steps back toward the door. I don’t make it in time to grab the handle when he gets up, suddenly blocking my way.
I turn and our eyes meet, exchanging an embarrassing glance.
“Good morning,” I splutter with a voice still laden with sleep.
“Are you alright?”
I nod and lower my gaze because I don’t want to see the same worry in his face that’s there every other day.
I turn again to leave the room and the situation, but he takes my hand delicately.
I sigh before shaking my head and forcing myself to block the emotions that have decided to betray me, letting the tears fall and revealing my pathetic existence. I’m not this strong. I’m weak and frustrated, and I’ve missed him so terribly, and I still miss him. More so than my old life.
“I’m back…” I whisper with a voice choked with tears.
They run down my face undisturbed and although I try to dry them with the back of my hand repeatedly, they show no intention of stopping.
“I’m back too,” he says, taking another step towards me.
I have to ask him, I have to know.
Now.
“You’ve come back….to me?”
He closes his eyes and lowers his head. Then he exhales slowly and looks at me directly and I see it’s him. It’sJason.
He’s back.
He’s come back to me.
