The full moon outside shed a surprising
amount of light into the apartment. It was funny how the room seemed so dark,
yet I could see all around me. A paradox.
I
sat up on the couch, my boney legs crossed in front of me. Karin had given me
an old sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. But the pants were so
large, they were uncomfortable, so I had taken them off and settled for the
tattered sweatshirt, which hung down loosely past my knees. I twirled a strand
of hair around my finger, but it quickly bounced out my reach back up towards
my scalp.
Across
the room, I saw the shape of Karin’s body under the blankets on his bed. I
watched his chest heave up and down with every methodic breath.
I
was so cold.
I
felt so alone.
I
wondered if Karin felt the same way.
Quietly,
I stepped off the couch. The wooden floor was cold on my bare feet. I began to
walk towards the bed; very aware of every step I took, yet not really thinking
at all.
Now
I could see his face.
His
eyelids were black. Or it could have been that they were extremely sheer, and
his bottomless eyes were showing through. He slept on his side, hunched over
away from me. He had pulled the quilt completely around him, so that only the
skin of his head was visible. His mouth parted a little as he breathed in and
out.
Maybe that will be you someday.
Before
me I saw a wounded man. A husk of a human being whose insides had been unfairly
taken. Someone who was afraid to fight back. Someone who was very, very alone.
Someone
like me.
Every
muscle ached to lie next to him; to climb under the quilt and feel his warm
skin against my own, to bury my face in his tangled hair. I wanted to tell him
I understood, that he didn’t have to be alone anymore.
So
I did.
Holding
my breath, I lifted the corner of the old quilt, revealing his bare back. His
skin looked even more ghostly in the moonlight. He didn’t even stir.
I
climbed onto the bed, kneeling first, then slipping my legs under the covers.
The mattress springs creaked. But it was a pleasant sound, a sound of home and
affection. Again, Karin didn’t budge. Cautiously, I released my breath.
Leaning
on my elbow, I starred. In the milky light, his hair was a million tiny
threads, swirling in different directions.
Suddenly,
he began to move. I held my breath again as he slowly uncurled his legs,
stretching them out before releasing them again, pulled up the quilt around his
shoulder, and sighed.
He
was so wounded. I could see him bleeding.
When
I was sure he was completely still again, I lay down so that my head was on the
other pillow, still facing his back.
He
didn’t have to be alone.
I
lifted an arm and gently wrapped it around his chest, the quilt and the
sweatshirt between each other’s skin. My fingers played with the edge of quilt,
grabbing the worn fabric so it rubbed between them.
Karin
stirred, but I did not pull away. He inhaled, and then exhaled long and dramatically.
He turned over onto his back so he was looking at the ceiling. My hand lay on
his chest, palm down, fingers limp.
“Your
home,” he mumbled.
I
smiled at the words.
“Shhh,
it’s okay. We both are. It’s okay.”
My
pointer finger traced a circle on his chest, around and around.
He
grinned a toothless grin in his sleep.
I
was helping him.
His
eyes didn’t seem quite as dark anymore. But maybe it was just the light.
He
mumbled something.
“Shhh,
it’s okay, it’s okay go back to sleep,” I cooed.
He
grinned again.
“Maggie.
Mags, your home.”
My
finger stopped, mid-revolution.
As
quietly, as I slid into the bed, I slid out, padding across the floor to gather
the little I had.
“Mags,
come on, girl. Please stay. Please stay with me,” I saw him sitting up in the
bed. His eyes were the only part of him visible in the darkness. No longer did
they seem so distant. As I stared back, they looked yellow and glassy, like
some kind of creature. Creature fear.
So
relatively fucked.
Before
he could say another word, I vanished out the door and into the night. A
faceless phantom with nowhere to go.
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