I need to feel that she’s really here, in one way or another, really here with me. To feel her close again, just for a second.
I pull her against me and hug her just slightly, afraid of crushing her frail body. She’s so small and fragile that I feel as if I could put her in my pocket.
“I’ve missed you…”
It’s my heart speaking. It’s already taken control over the rest of me. She lets herself go and rests her head on my chest. I’m nervous that she can hear my accelerated heart beating and run away again, just so as to not face this.
“We can’t be this close,” she tells me as she hugs me as hard as she can.
“I’m sorry, Alex, for what I did to you.”
She breaks our embrace slowly and I feel like someone has sucked the oxygen out of my lungs. She looks at me with her sad lifeless eyes and my heart refuses to beat a for few seconds.
“It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known. No one did. Huh, maybe I should thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, it might have happened in another moment in another place and they wouldn’t have been able to help me.”
I know she doesn’t really think that, she’s not thankful to me at all. I’m certain she would have preferred to find out differently and perhaps not to have been saved.
“I’ll take you to your car, let’s go.”
Reluctantly she accepts and starts walking toward the end of the car park. I close the distance between us and try to take her hand again but she draws back sharply.
“Don’t touch me, okay? Don’t do it.”
“Alex…”
“I’m serious, Jason. Don’t get close to me or I might not get out alive this time.”
—
ALEX
I was too harsh. After five years of distance between us the only thing I am able to do is attack him. It’s the only way I’ve got to keep him away from me.
Just the vision of him is enough to destroy me, and I’m not talking about a slow destruction that comes in degrees—one that slowly bends you until you’re no longer able to stand, but rather something that hits you full-on, knocking the wind out of you in a few seconds without giving you time to think of how to avoid the blow.
“I’d never hurt you on purpose, you know. Not you.”
His voice is as dark as his face is. We both knew that sooner or later that we would have to face this moment, it’s more that I wasn’t ready for it just yet, and I’m sure he wasn’t either.
We were little more than kids, I was eighteen and he was just two years older than me. We were friends, the best of friends. He had just lost his mother and spent most of his time at home with my family. His father was just gutted after the loss and wasn’t able to even get out of bed. I tried to be close to him, to be there for him and to show him my affection, to console him and help him not to feel so alone, but it was really difficult.
Jason was feeling lost, he was upset and full of anger. He was angry with everyone. He’d get into arguments with anyone just to vent the emptiness he had inside. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, he refused the help of his friends, even his closest friends. He couldn’t deal with his emotions or face his pain.
He was alone and against the world that had really dealt him such a cruel blow.
That afternoon we were in my room and I was trying to help him study for his finals. I had convinced him to finally try and pass the last year but he wasn’t able to concentrate.
I knew something was about to happen.
Sitting on my bed Indian style, with a book on my lap and a pencil between my lips, I was trying to control a sense of oppression that was spreading in my chest.
He was sitting on the floor, with his back resting against the bed, staring off at the emptiness in front of him.
Out of the blue, he jumped to his feet and ran his hand through his hair. I was shaking and I could feel my throat closing around my vocal chords which had suddenly gone dry and it was making my breathing difficult. My heartbeat sped up and it felt like I was sweating even if no perspiration was dripping down my forehead.
Jason was my best friend. He was cute, more cute than any other guy in the neighborhood or at school. He looked a lot like his mother. He had the same facial features and same color hair, but his eyes were identical to his father’s: a penetrating blue. When he looked at me for more than a few seconds, prolonging that contact made me tremble with emotion, I felt lost. I felt like I was drowning in everything that he had inside, like I was being swallowed into his soul.
He sat next to me and took the book from my hands and the pencil from my lips. And he caressed my cheek.
