By Ouanessa Nana
A spare, slender outcry that clamored, rattling lungs, and stirring the air that we breathe. The words suddenly heavy in my throat, the pulsing accent of my voice tripped on my chest. Earth so sheathed, the crust chopping as the sun rose, blemished and spoiled the color of sorrowing. Horns fastened and burgeoned in the cusps of our shoulders, the stress of caretaking a selfish wail that drips down the side of my arms and threatens to rip and choke the mirage.
It was a scraggy saw tooth, a skimmed scuttle. And so we fled.
The blue fissured and split a blare gurgling, the roar deafening. My eyes fluttered, my heart rolling into a clap as I gulped. I threw us back into her, in the midst of the warnings, not able to clear my mind of the dust, the black goo a blade, thrumming through me in all hours of the day that I no longer see the blight, I could only see red and seemed through my skull, making me bleed tears of ultramarine.
We stop when we reach a small wooden table with a singular metal chair. I quickly walk over to it and pull it open, motioning for him to sit. Rory raises an eyebrow at me, crossing his arms around his chest as he slowly goes over to the chair, slipping his hand around my waist ever so lightly. I gasp, trying not to go rigid, my skin stirring, my bones rippling, and I have to twist my thighs together to keep myself from falling into him.
In an instant, I bite my lip, my lungs swelling as I get a good look at him, remembering how good he always tastes, how his lips are so soft, it’s almost like licking a scoop of ice cream with every press.
I yanked the ribs from my chest, my breath tugging, skin to skin, cheek to mouth, fingers to fabric, it was itchy, irritatingly soft, his heart. He stood there composed, smirking, the slight sweat of his brow the only indication that he might want me as made as I wanted him while I was unwound, my gut bubbling and my tongue fumbling before I had a chance to fake it out.
It has to be a crime to be this drawn to him and before I realize it, I’m licking my lips, kicking myself, tying a napkin around my neck, and grabbing the fork off the table I hadn’t seen before. Rory laughs, his strong big hands placed gingerly over my fingers.
Thirteen-year-old me blinked at us and I stopped gaping at him for a moment to take her in. Her body shakes as she hands me a cup of tea, her skinny blue jeans, checkered vans, and bright pink shirt covered in dirt. When she coughs she chokes on dust, the cloud forming around the rim of the glass. She smiles brightly when she finishes her coughing spurt, her big brown doe eyes, glossing when they land on Rory.
Rory’s jaw drops. “Lake, is that you?” He asks me, a slight chuckle in the tone of his voice. I nodded, taking the cup from her hand. It’s hot and the minute the tea splashes it burns my skin and my arm peels, ripping off the layers of me, exposing my wounds in bright capacity.
I bend down when I am at eye level and I put my lips to her ear. “What’s so special about this guy anyway? Why do you like him?”
She grins, her cheeks a gleam of light, her cells disintegrating into particles, the grime scattering into the malignant air. “It just feels right,” She answered, looking at Rory when she said it.
“It just feels right,” I anchored. I picked at my skin, swallowing, rushing out the whispers that slip between my ears, my shoulders anchored by the nipping cuts lashed out at my head.
“But he left you for dead,”. I whispered, the words cutting jagged in my throat that I could feel the blood coming up and staining my lips.
Little Lake tilts her head, her beady eyes mischievous. “So?”
“But you’re a wreck with him!” I continued, the bile rising, my nerves spinning around in a circle that I could hardly see straight.
She takes her tiny skinny fingers in mine and squeezes them against her temple. It’s brittle and soft, like the aftermath of bread soaked in water. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? To throb and lose despite everything because our hearts are bigger, our hearts are stronger than anybody’s mistakes, any hurt that has ever fallen among us,” She pokes her finger hard into my chest and I wince. “That wrecked messiness isn’t an alarm, it’s your safety net, letting you fall,”
I tried to pull away from her as the spikiness of her skin bristled and grew around me. “But,” I stammered, the fear clawing up my throat.
She shrugs, releasing me and I gasp, an article chill running through my spine. “Besides, would anything I have said have mattered? He would still encompass your mind and you would still find your way back to him, nestled in his sheets, your cheek pressed against his arm, your most precious thing, your home.
I wanted to say what about everyone else? But all that was left of her was a crooked smile and the smudge of Smacker’s watermelon lip balm stained on her teeth. When I step back it is into Rory’s chest, the smell of salt and sharp vanilla, and the sound of crashing waves soothing me.
THE END.
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