Castaways
What time are we meeting? –Malak
Let’s do 6 –Zara
I’m down for 6 too –Dima
That works for me, can’t wait!! –Me
I smiled. I was excited to see my friends, which was rare. I loved them, and I knew once I got there I would enjoy myself, but it was the after part I always dreaded. The part when I went home and analyzed over every little thing I said and did until eventually, after hours of stress and torment, I would convince myself they all secretly hated me.
I swiped out of our group chat and hesitated before tapping on the conversation right below it. The only other person I texted besides my mom and Noah––Bayan. It looked exactly the same as it did the last time I checked.
Heyy –Me
Still on delivered. Still no response.
I tried not to let it bother me. I tried not to get offended because this was Bayan. She sucked at texting back. I still couldn’t help and overthink it though . . . what if she was mad at me? How did things end the last time we hung out? Could I have said something rude or done something wrong without realizing it? But if I did, why hadn’t she told me how she felt? Did she think I was the type of person who would get defensive and argue if she told me that I did something wrong? Did she not know that if I ever did something to hurt her, even if it was unintentional, I would apologize non-stop? That I would literally grovel on my knees until she forgave me? And even after that I still wouldn’t forgive myself for ever making her feel anything less than amazing?
I quickly tossed my phone on my bed before I wasted any more time driving myself insane instead of getting ready. She was just busy. We didn’t need to talk every day to remain close. That was the beauty of our friendship. I missed her, but I would see her soon.
I turned the water on cold and stepped in, instinctively drawing back at the temperature but forced myself to submerge under it. I squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into my palm and started to lather it into my hair, scrubbing my roots vehemently. My mind drifted to Noah as I washed my hair. I was already eager to see him and work on the bookstore after I saw my friends––
Knock, knock.
I paused my movements and faced the direction of the door, making sure not to open my eyes, but I didn’t hear anything anymore––
Knock, knock.
“I’m in here, Mama!” I yelled loudly, hoping she heard me. I stepped under the shower head and started to wash the shampoo out––
“It’s me, Maya.”
My fingers froze in my hair.
Mikhail?
Did he not realize I was in the shower? It was silent, but I could sense he was still standing on the other side of the door. Was he waiting for a response? I instantly cringed at the thought of talking to him, but what else could I do?
I swallowed back the awkwardness. “Okay, well, I’m taking a shower . . .”
“I need the bathroom.”
What the fuck?
“I’m in here right now,” I repeated, annoyed. He was so weird.
“I need to take a shower.”
A wave of unease started to creep up at the tone he was using. He wasn’t yelling, but his voice sounded off––
It wasn’t a serene calm that he was exuding; it was an eerie calm––
I shoved the memory out of my head and started rinsing my hair quicker. I didn’t bother answering, I mean, he didn’t expect me to just get out mid-shower because he needed it? He could wait . . . but just to avoid any drama, I poured some conditioner into my hands and started to lather my hair before it was even completely free of shampoo. I just wanted to finish before––
“I said I need to take a fucking shower!” he screamed, smacking his fist roughly against the door.
––he snapped.
I immediately jumped back at the loud sound, feeling the force of his fist flow through the door and shove me violently against the wall of the shower. My eyes flung open as I looked toward the door, a sharp pain stinging through them as the chemicals dripped off my eyelashes. I still didn’t close them. I needed to keep them open. I needed to see––
Another booming smack bounced off the bathroom walls. “I told you I needed the bathroom because I have a job interview––”
He never told me anything––
“God, you’re always trying to sabotage everything for me!” he shouted through the door. “I told you I needed the fucking bathroom, Maya. For fucks sake get out! Get the fuck out!”
I cowered away from his voice and backed further into the corner of the shower. He continued to hit the door thunderously, the hinges rattling loudly in protest. Each deafening thud against the door hit my eardrums with a painful strike. I covered them with my hands but the sound just kept getting louder and LOUDER––
“Open the fucking door,” he threatened darkly. “Open the fucking door and get the fuck out, or I swear to God I’ll come in there––”
I shoved my fingers deep into my ear canals, drowning out his voice but proceeding to enhance the sound of my thrashing heartbeat. My harrowed breath was getting yanked out before it could properly circulate through my lungs, and then quickly getting sucked back in with a desperate gulp. I choked on water, soap, and tears as they swished together in my mouth while I tried to calm down.
He whacked the door again, but this time the loud thud was followed by a piercing crack through the air. I whipped my head toward the door, my vision blurry from soap and damaged corneas, but I didn’t need my contacts to see the horror scene playing out in front of me. I watched as the bathroom door––my sole form of protection––slowly pushed open. Only a second passed before a tall, dark silhouette entered through the door and into the small space. For a moment I was filled with relief that there was still one more thing concealing me . . . until I remembered the drape hanging between us was clear and completely see-through.
My arms instantly flew down to cover myself, but I didn’t have enough limbs to shield my entire body. I prayed that the cold water still managed to fog up the bathroom, but I could feel his intense stare on me through the plastic curtain. I slid to the floor of the shower and shrunk away from his gaze burning a hole in my skin. I was crying silently, fear blocking any noise from slipping through my trembling lips. He continued to stand there and leer at me, his menacing breaths coming out in pants of anger as I urgently tried to fall through the tub and into another dimension of this crucifying hell.
The bathroom tiles squeaked as he took a step closer, and my breath caught, feet scurrying to get away but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere for me to escape. My body continued to spasm, slipping and sliding in the wet tub. I heard the plastic crinkle as he grazed it gently, and suddenly I was a teenager again and three men stood over me with one of their hands inside my body. I was back in my bed and my brother was breathing down my neck as he watched me sleep with his fingers stroking the covers, my pajama bottoms soaked in urine. I was hiding in my cramped closet, resisting the urge to cover my ears against his screams so I could make sure my mother and father were okay. I was obsessively counting the steps from the curb to my front porch after school because I was too scared to go inside, but also because I was too scared I’d one day forget why.
The shower rings scraped against the metal rod above me and a hysterical plea forced its way through the blockade of emotions lodged in my throat, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut. If I didn’t look, then it could never be real.
“Please,” I whispered in a strangled cry. “Just leave me alone, Mikhail . . . I don’t know what you want from me.” I curled into a tight ball and banged my head against the wall, forcing myself to wake up.
I heard his fingers grip the edge tightly before completely tearing it off the rod and I was exposed. I clutched my body tighter, frantically wishing that I had the strength to snap all my bones into pieces so I could wash away with the water streaming into the drain.
You’re imagining things again, Maya––
I heard him take one step into the tub.
Nothing is real, Maya––
But then my eyes flung open and through my blurry vision, I saw him, right there, standing over me, leaning down, and my entire existence shattered. Everything I’d spent the last months trying to rebuild . . . my spark that I was trying to reignite . . . my happiness, my life slowly fell apart, before completely deteriorating into thin air like it never even existed at all.
“Please Mikhail,” I begged again.
My mom’s voice suddenly flowed up the stairs and I heard the front door slam shut. I moved my head quickly, ready to scream for help. Ready to scream bloody fucking murder––
But he was gone.
I hesitated––what if my eyes were tricking me? I extended my hand slowly but all I felt was empty air, confirming with relief that he wasn’t there. I quickly stood up, almost slipping in my haste, and turned the water off before sprinting to my room. I dropped to the floor after jamming my storage compartments under the handle, but I could still feel his dark, greedy eyes raking over me––
I leaned over as my morning coffee came hurling out of me and onto my rug. I watched the liquid start to quickly spread and darken the fabric of my carpet. The lingering stomach acid dribbled from my lips and onto my chin, leaving a wet trail of bile down my neck and the length of my body. I didn’t bother wiping it off. It was only fair that I looked as disgusting as I felt inside.
I looked down at my hand and at the scabs that were so close to being healed. I could feel them burning for me to pick them. Itching for me to scratch them away, along with the images in my head. Who was I to deny them? I vigorously scraped and lacerated the delicate skin until it was raw, and my nails were chipped and covered with blood, and I began to wonder why I even bothered to stop picking in the first place.
Exhaustion and nausea swirled harshly behind my eyes and without warning my body tilted to the side and crumpled to the floor. It didn’t stop there. The floor of my room suddenly transformed into liquid and I was sinking through. It was strange the way time suspended itself when you were falling. I should’ve been thinking about what was going to happen when I landed. I should’ve been fighting to swim back up for air. I should’ve been trying not to drown, but nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t exist anymore––
“Did you hear me, Maya?”
I turned toward the sound of her voice, surprised to find myself in the passenger seat, and Malak was sitting beside me, driving.
How did I get here?
“No,” I said automatically, my voice dull and scratchy. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
She continued talking about God knows what as I looked down, convinced that I would find myself sitting naked and covered in vomit. I wasn’t. I was wearing the black jeans and blue sweater I’d picked out earlier, and my sneakers were laced up neatly on my feet. My hands were wrapped in cut-off cotton gloves, and Noah’s jacket was around my shoulders. I looked in the side mirror and my face was clean of any . . . spit-up. My hair was brushed and my glasses were perched crookedly on my nose. I reached up and slowly adjusted them, surprised when I could feel them. I touched my body, and the seat, and my face . . . all very real. I was actually here.
But how?
“Anyway, that’s pretty much it. Work has taken up most of my life, which sucks. But what about you, I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages. What’s new?”
I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing what I was going to say, but we pulled into the sushi place we were eating at, saving me from having to respond. Zara and Dima were standing beside their car, waiting for us. I shut the door behind me and was quickly enveloped in a blur of hugs and a sea of hellos, how are yous, and I miss yous. We picked a booth by the window and ordered our food, while everyone started talking and updating each other on their lives.
I tried to pay attention but my mind was in a fuzzy haze. I couldn’t remember how I got there. I couldn’t remember getting dressed, or going downstairs, or if I even told my parents I was going out. I couldn’t remember getting into Malak’s car or her telling me that she was going to pick me up in the first place––did I ask for a ride? I pushed through the fog desperately––
I could still feel his dark, greedy eyes leering at me––
I choked on my food as the memories flooded back to me.
“Maya, are you okay?” Dima asked.
“Here, drink some water,” Zara said, pushing my glass toward me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking a sip of the cold water––
I choked on water, soap, and tears as they swished together in my mouth while I tried to calm down––
I spit the water back into my cup as a strangled cough erupted through my throat. I felt like I was choking all over again but there was nothing there.
“I’m just going to go to the bathroom, excuse me.” I pushed my chair back roughly and hurried to the bathroom. I barely closed the door behind me before the few bites of food I managed to scarf down, heaved back up through my mouth and into the toilet. I panted over the seat for a moment but nothing else came up. I flushed away the remnants of my vomit and walked to the sink to splash some water on my face, before placing my glasses back on and looking into the mirror to make sure my face was clean––
Mikhail glared back at me, his x-ray vision zeroing in on my body through my clothes––
I jumped back and immediately squeezed my eyes shut, but I still couldn’t get him out of my head. I saw his face everywhere I looked. I couldn’t get his eyes out of my mind, and I could feel his stare on every inch of my skin. Something rotten was boiling inside me. I was dirty. My clothes were dirty just from making contact with the rancid particles on my skin. I squirmed and twisted away from the feeling of my dirty and rotten clothes, but I couldn’t get away. I needed to strip out of all the articles I was wearing. I needed to wash my body clean in the sink. I needed to scrub away all the dirt, and vomit, and him off my skin. I needed to––
I leaned against the wall as a whirlwind of emotions slowly devoured my mind. I needed to get through this dinner. I needed to get through this dinner first and then I could figure out what do to next. I needed to suffer through just one more hour, and then I could let myself fall apart.
“Sorry about that guys,” I apologized, taking my seat. I stared at them nervously, hoping they couldn’t notice anything off about me.
“No, you’re good,” Dima replied. “Anyway, I have an update about the guy I’m talking to . . .”
I glanced down at my body frantically, feeling completely translucent. She was lying. I wasn’t good. Nothing about me was good. How could they not see––?
Pay attention.
I looked back at Dima quickly, nodding my head as she spoke.
Stop active listening, Maya. It looks fake.
I halted my head mid-bob and focused on her mouth. They were moving but nothing she was saying registered in my ears. How did people read lips? Why weren’t real-life subtitles a thing?
“. . . I think I’m just going to wait until April when I graduate and see what happens because . . .”
You’re still not listening.
She’s talking about her graduation––
No, fuck, you’re being so rude, Maya.
I smiled at her as she explained her plans. I couldn’t wait to go to her graduation––
God, she can see right through you. This is why they never ask you to hang out more often––
Shut up.
Do you think they don’t hang out without you? Do you think they don’t have a separate group chat with just the three of them? Do you think––?
Shut up.
Everyone can see you, Maya. Everyone knows. Everyone can see your decomposing soul––
Shut up, shut up, SHUT THE FUCK UP––
“Do you want a to-go box for your food?”
I blinked at the waitress smiling down at me.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“This was fun guys, let’s plan something again soon,” Malak said, gathering her stuff. “And Maya––” I froze “––we’ll give you a pass today because you seem distracted, but you better contribute to the conversation next time.”
I laughed breathlessly. “I’ve been out of it guys, my bad.”
“It’s okay, I feel you,” Dima said as the waitress returned with my box. The wind whipped around us as soon as we stepped through the door, and I immediately welcomed the cold sensation on my face.
“Malak, you don’t have to give me a ride home. My parents are going to pick me up,” I lied. I couldn’t sit in the small space of her car while she scrutinized me.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind, really,” she insisted.
“No it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” I assured her, giving her a quick hug. I waved as she pulled out of the parking lot, my fake smile instantly disappearing as soon as her car was out of my view.
I stood still for a moment, the freezing weather nice on my skin. There was no way I was calling my parents to pick me up. There was no way I was going back to that house. I flinched just thinking about it. I needed Noah. He would make me feel seen. He would make me feel clean.
The restaurant we went to was also downtown, but it was still a few blocks away from Noah’s café. The temperature seemed to drop further with every step I took, but I didn’t mind. Every time the cold wind hit my skin, my cells instantly woke up. I tensed against the frigid weather but didn’t make a move to button up his jacket and make myself warmer. I needed this. I needed to stay awake. I needed to stay alert so I wouldn’t slip back into the nightmare simmering in the edges of my memory, begging to barge through and consume me.
The cold could only last so long before the veil of numbness settled back over me and dulled my senses back to sleep. Everything after that was a blur. I remembered the sidewalk being empty––no one else was stupid enough to walk around in this bone-chilling climate. I vaguely heard footsteps getting closer, so I glanced up on instinct and saw a man walking in my direction. There was something familiar about his build and I was getting a strange feeling of déjà vu, so I squinted slightly through my glasses––
But the random stranger suddenly transformed into Mikhail before my eyes, and he was charging toward me––
And then I was gone.
Everything was gone. The sidewalk disappeared from under my feet, and the buildings around me vanished as the cold wind slapping my face was replaced with cold water. I blinked because obviously I was imagining things and when I opened my eyes again, my surroundings would have righted themselves back into reality.
But they didn’t. I wasn’t outside anymore; I was back in my bathroom. I was in my shower, naked, and standing on the other side of the curtain was Mikhail. He was staring at me mercilessly as I tried to shrink away from his relentless gaze and into the corner of the tub. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I tried to move my hands to protect myself, but they wouldn’t move. They were shackled tightly behind my back with invisible binds. There was nothing I could do, nowhere to escape, I was trapped––
“Maya?”
I blinked. I was back outside. I was standing in front of Espresso & Chill.
“Why didn’t you come inside, weirdo?” Noah teased. “Awe, did you bring me back some of your dinner? I’m starving.”
He reached out to grab the box clenched in my fist but I recoiled away from him, dropping it.
He chuckled. “My bad, I forgot you hate sharing food . . .” He trailed off and I felt his eyes analyzing me carefully. “What’s wrong?”
Finally, someone could see me.
“Maya, baby, what’s wrong?” he whispered, concern lacing his voice.
I felt his hand touch my face and I jerked away again.
“Maya, you’re freezing––” He broke off, looking around frantically. “Where’s your car? Did you . . . walk here?” he asked in disbelief.
Yes.
“You need to come inside.” I didn’t budge. “I’m going to take your hand, okay?”
I moved away from him again instinctively.
“Hey, it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured me. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I love you. Please, just let me take your hand. Let me take you inside.”
He reached out slowly, testing my reaction, and brushed my hand slightly. When I didn’t flinch, he added more pressure and then hesitantly interlocked his fingers with mine.
“Thank you, baby, you’re doing so good. I’m going to walk you inside now, okay?”
Okay.
My legs moved without waiting for permission. He opened the door and led me inside, immediately surrounding us with all the chatter and noise of his café. He took me behind the counter and stopped outside the door that led to the upper level.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he promised, squeezing my hand before letting go. It fell limply to my side, cold and empty. I watched as he whispered something into Ravi’s ear, and then he walked to the front of the café.
“Hey everyone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but unfortunately we will be closing early today,” he announced apologetically. “On your way out I’m going to give you a coupon for a free coffee and baked good on your next visit. Again, I apologize for the sudden disruption.”
Me being the sudden disruption. I wanted to protest––he shouldn’t have to close early––but my brain and my body were disconnected. My body was in the present, but my mind was stuck in the past.
“Don’t worry buddy, you’ll still get paid for the remainder of your shift,” Noah told him as everyone filed out of the store. He locked the door and turned off all the machines before rushing back to me.
“Maya,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it right now.”
I’m dirty, I thought hopelessly.
“You’re what?”
I didn’t realize I had spoken out loud this time. I couldn’t feel my lips moving.
“I’m dirty,” I said louder.
“What do you . . . ?” His eyes examined my physique carefully. “You’re not dirty, Maya.”
“I’m dirty,” I repeated. He looked at me, confusion and fear raging a war behind his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he see?
“I’m dirty,” I demanded again. “I thought you saw me? I thought you could see me? Why can’t you see?!”
“Okay, okay,” he soothed automatically. “You’re right, Maya, you’re . . . dirty.” He had to force the word out. “What can I do to fix it?”
“I need to be clean,” I pleaded. “Please, I just need to be clean.”
“Okay, let’s go upstairs. You can get clean upstairs,” he agreed, and we walked up the stairs that led right into his apartment. He pushed open a door to the left. His bathroom.
“Wait here,” he murmured, leaving the bathroom for a minute. He came back with a fresh towel and some articles of clothing. “There’s shampoo and conditioner in the shower. The body wash is on the bottom ledge. If you need me to go get you anything specific from the store that you’d rather use, just tell me.” He lifted his hands to my face, holding it gently between his warm palms. “Take your time. I’ll be out here waiting for you.” He pressed his lips against my forehead, breathing me in fiercely, before letting go and closing the door behind him.
I looked at his shower dreadfully. It helped that his bathroom looked nothing like mine, so the nightmare wasn’t thrashing too hard against my mind, but it didn’t matter in the end. As soon as I turned the nozzle on full blast and stepped under the water fully clothed, I was back. I couldn’t see Mikhail this time but I could still feel him. He was all around me, swirling in the steam, vandalizing my presence piece by piece. The scorching water was starting to burn through all my layers, but nothing could harm me more than the constant feeling of his gaze pressing into me roughly from every angle. My fingers twitched urgently toward the shampoo bottle so I could scrub myself clean, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in the center of his incinerating stare. I couldn’t even open my mouth to breathe. My chest was tight with suffocation, and my lungs were torn between gasping for too much air and letting out the deep sobs that were begging to escape.
It felt like I’d been standing in the shower for hours until eventually, I wasn’t sure if I was even there anymore. How could I be sure that I wasn’t in my house, trapped in my bathroom, with Mikhail breathing down my neck? I couldn’t tell what was real. I kept running it over and over again in my head, that maybe Noah was nothing but a dream. A figment of my imagination that I invented to protect myself from all the pain I’d stored deep in my mind until today. His gaze tore through everything and now . . . I didn’t know what was true. I didn’t know how to make it stop. I had let myself fall for another one of hopes fatal snares, and now I was submerged into unabridged darkness.
“Maya?”
I blinked slowly, focusing through my obscured vision until I could faintly see his green and blue orbs lifting me out of my abyss.
“Maya,” he repeated. He walked to the open shower, stepping through the water that had spilled out, and quickly adjusted the nozzle to a more reasonable setting. The water raining down on me instantly changed from hot to warm, relieving my skin. He carefully entered the tub and pushed my wet hair out of my face.
“Breathe.”
My lips stayed glued together.
He gently massaged my neck and pressed his mouth against my ear. “Breathe, Maya,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. He held it for three seconds and then let it out calmly. He repeated the action five more times before my lungs suddenly sprang back to life, gasping for air. He continued to breathe slowly and enunciated until my panting finally steadied and our breathing was synchronized.
“Did you know that whales don’t die of old age?” I asked.
“They don’t?”
“No. Eventually, they get tired of swimming back up for air, so they drown themselves,” I said quietly. “I don’t know how to swim, Noah. I don’t know how to swim, and I’m tired of trying to struggle back up for air. I’m so fucking tired.”
“What do you need, Maya? Let me help you, please.”
“I need it to stop.”
“You need what to stop?”
“I need everything to stop,” I told him, a sob finally breaking through my clogged chest.
He wrapped his arms around me securely. “I know you’re in pain and I know you’re tired of fighting. I know you tried so many times but I need you to try again, okay?”
“I don’t know how.”
He was silent for a moment. “Was it your brother?”
I didn’t answer, and I immediately felt his body tense against mine.
“You told me he stopped,” Noah said, his voice accusing. He pulled back and looked at me with tortured eyes. “You told me it wasn’t like that anymore, and a part of me didn’t fucking believe you, but I let you leave anyway because I didn’t want to make your decisions for you. I never should’ve let you go back there.”
“This came out of nowhere, Noah, I don’t know . . .”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was taking a shower,” I started slowly. “I was taking a shower and then he . . . he started knocking on the door.”
Noah closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. I could feel him trembling.
“He was calm at first. He knocked once and said he needed the bathroom. I didn’t want to reply––I hate talking to him––but I didn’t want to make him mad so I told him I was in there.”
My heartbeat was accelerating and my words were coming out in desperate gasps as water filled into my mouth. “He started banging on the door after that, saying that he had told me he needed the shower and that I was trying to sabotage his job interview.” I looked up at him intensely. “He never told me anything, Noah, I swear.”
“I believe you, baby, I believe you,” he assured me soothingly, stroking my face.
“He kept banging harder and screaming at me until––” I stopped, my stomach churning with disgust. “The lock broke and the door swung open.”
“Fuck,” Noah muttered, his fist clenching. “I’m going to kill that piece of shit.”
“He didn’t do anything,” I said, suddenly feeling dramatic. “He just stood there in the bathroom, staring at me.”
“Don’t,” he demanded. “Don’t you dare belittle this, Maya. You’re his sister! What kind of sick fuck just stands there and watches you while you’re––?” He shook his head angrily.
“I curled up on the floor . . . covering myself.” My tears started to slip in with the water pouring down on us. “I could feel his stare on my skin and everywhere around me, and––” I squirmed in his arms, desperate to get out of my clothes. “I feel dirty. I feel so fucking dirty, Noah. My core feels rotten, please, I need to get clean. I just want out of this body, please, I can’t . . .”
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Do you trust me?”
He was staring at me deeply, and I nodded. He rested his hands on my shoulders, never breaking my gaze, and gently slipped his jacket off my body. He tossed it and it landed with a loud splat on the bathroom floor.
“I’m going to take your sweater off, okay?” he asked, waiting.
I nodded again. I needed to be clean.
He slid his hands under the thick knit material and started tugging it upwards. It was heavy with the weight of so much water, but he eventually pulled it over my head and my arms fell limply back to my side. He kept his eyes locked with mine as he threw it to the side with my jacket, before doing the same with the thin turtleneck I had underneath.
“I’m going to take your jeans off now, okay?” he breathed softly. “If you want me to stop, just say so.” He leaned down slightly, kissing my shoulder, before kneeling in front of me. He untied my destroyed sneakers, slipping them off my feet along with my socks. He glanced up at me, making sure I was okay, before unbuttoning my jeans.
“Lift your foot for me, Maya,” he requested. I put my hand on his shoulder for balance and did as he asked. After he successfully detangled both my feet from my jeans and disposed of them, he pressed his lips tenderly against my exposed abdomen and I shuddered. It didn’t pass my notice that he never asked to remove my gloves.
He stood up and we faced each other quietly for a moment––one fully clothed, one partially bare, water raining down on us and Noah not looking anywhere but my eyes. This wasn’t how this moment was supposed to go. The first time the love of your life saw you semi-naked was supposed to be special, beautiful, romantic. Not like this, me, standing in an old sports bra that wasn’t doing my chest any favors and an underwear that was the complete opposite of tempting or desirable, and I was feeling . . . nothing. I was supposed to feel something other than dirty in this very special and beautiful and romantic moment because you only got one first. This first would never happen again, but as usual, with one look, Mikhail ruined it for me.
Noah moved, stroking my cheek softly before finally looking away. He grabbed his loofah, frothing some body wash on it before gently running it all over my body. I closed my eyes and focused on the rough bristles gliding across my skin, erasing all traces of Mikhail. Noah took his time scrubbing my shoulders, my chest, and my stomach to perfection. He got down on his knees and washed my legs, and then stepped around me in his spacious tub to work on my back.
He didn’t flinch at the long scar running down my leg, or at the little one on my arm. He didn’t flinch at the scar that stretched from my belly button down, disappearing behind my underwear, or the smaller one above my hip. I knew he saw them, but he just cleaned around them.
“I know you see them,” I whispered. “You don’t need to pretend they don’t exist.”
I felt his lips on my back as he dropped the sponge and wrapped his arms around me from behind, leaning his head on my shoulder. “Your scars aren’t dirty, Maya. They don’t need to be cleaned.”
“Clean them,” I pleaded.
“Scrubbing won’t make them go away––”
“I said clean them,” I repeated louder, kneeling down to grab the loofah.
“Stop,” he demanded, grabbing my hands and turning me around to face him. His wet hair was slick to his face, and his clothes were drenched. “You’re not dirty, Maya.”
“Yes, I am,” I protested weakly, still feeling remnants of my decaying soul lingering inside of me.
He stared at me intensely, a fierce fire raging in his bright eyes. Before I knew what he was doing, he let go of me and swiftly lifted his shirt off.
“Am I dirty?”
My sharp intake of breath replaced all the words I’d prepared to say. My eyes followed down his neck, and to his exposed abdomen which was covered in tattoos. All over his chest, and on his stomach and his arms . . . he was completely inked, stopping just where his t-shirt would end, which explained why I had never noticed them before. I examined them all in a wild frenzy, anxious to soak them all in. There were symbols and words, all intricately drawn and engraved into his skin permanently––
My name, right there, over his heart. It was small, and I could barely see it through the water and my blurry vision but it was real, inscribed between two interlocked pinkies. An infinite and irreversible promise.
No, he wasn’t dirty. In fact, he had never looked more magnificent. I reached my hand out, mesmerized, and stroked my fingers against them . . . and that’s when I felt it. I didn’t know much about tattoos, but I was almost positive they were supposed to feel smooth. His chest felt like my chest.
All his tattoos were hiding scars.
I felt him shiver under my hand. “Tell me, Maya,” he insisted. “Am I dirty? Am I rotten? Do I repulse you?”
“Who . . . ? What happened?” I whispered urgently. I was prepared to find them. I was prepared to hunt down the soulless monster––
“Am. I. Dirty?” he repeated louder.
“No,” I said harshly. “You’re not dirty, Noah, these don’t make you dirty. They make you strong. They make you beautiful.”
He cupped my face in his hands. “The same applies to you, Maya. You are strong and you are beautiful. Don’t let him make you feel otherwise.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, defeated. “How did you move on? How did you get over all the terrible things that happened to you? How are you . . . okay? I am wrecked through and through. I am completely ruined! What is wrong with me that I can’t be okay too?”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said vehemently, tightening his grip. “The difference between you and I is that I was rescued. I was plucked out of my miserable nightmare and placed into a new environment filled with warmth, and love, and trust. I was given all the resources I needed to heal. You weren’t––that’s how. How are you supposed to heal in the same place you got hurt? How are you supposed to recover from all the pain and torments of your past, when your past is still your present?”
He leaned closer, his lips just barely brushing against mine. “You were given a terrible beginning and an even more terrible middle, but . . . your middle is unfinished. Your middle is still going, Maya, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make sure the rest of it isn’t amazing. I will give you the best middle, and the very best fucking end.”
The force of his vow pushed away everything else on my mind. We were staring at each other, an intense bond molding between our gaze, and there were so many things I could say. So many things I wanted to say, but words were unnecessary. The blockade of my emotions had collapsed and all the passion and love came thrusting back through, consuming me entirely. It rose through my stomach and into my chest, knocking against my lungs and making it hard to breathe.
He leaned his head against mine, wiping away my tears until it was only water streaming down my face. “I don’t know a lot of things, Maya,” he whispered. “But I do know one thing, and it’s that the universe will punish him for every single tear he’s made you shed. If not in this life, then definitely in the next.”
“I didn’t know you were religious.”
“I’m not,” he replied. “I wasn’t. But when I look at you . . . I can’t help but feel like our souls somehow sprouted from the same seed. You are the sunshine that my roots need in order to grow. You are the water that my core needs in order to survive, Maya, and I’m not going to let anything or anyone take you away from me.” He closed his eyes tightly and let out a shaky breath. “I was never a religious man but I swear, when I think about you––” his voice cracked “––I get so extremely overwhelmed that you’re real and that you’re mine, and all I want to do is get onto my fucking knees and thank God for bringing you into my life.”
I shut my eyes at his words, and let them sheave me in a shield of warmth. His lips were at my ear, murmuring gently. “Stay with me tonight. Let me hold you, Maya. Let me replace his gaze with my touch.”
I nodded quickly. His presence was the only thing keeping me from crumbling to the ground.
“You need to get dry and change into some warm clothes before you get sick.”
I shivered, only now realizing how cold I was. He turned off the shower and held my hand as I stepped out of the tub so I wouldn’t slip on the river that had formed on the bathroom floor. He grabbed his towel and patted me dry, before wrapping it tightly around me. We stood in front of the steamy mirror, and I watched as Noah took his brush and started to gently comb it through my wet and tangled curls. Once it was free of knots, he sectioned it off with his fingers.
“You know how to French braid?” I asked, my eyes never leaving his through the mirror.
“Yes,” he replied, securing it with a hair tie. “I used to do my mom’s hair whenever she . . . couldn’t.”
I turned around to face him and pulled his head down to rest on my shoulder, running my fingers down his wet back. “My sweet boy.”
He kissed my neck, letting his lips linger. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed. I need to clean up this water park of a disaster anyway,” he said, chuckling at the mess. I smiled sheepishly and closed the door behind me.
I slipped into his clothes and walked over to the window where he had a chair and a telescope propped up, pointing at the sky. Noah loved space. He talked about it all the time––how beautiful and vast and unknown the universe was. I peered into the lens to see what he saw, but all I saw was myself, freshly twelve years old, standing in my big brother’s room with tears in my eyes after he ruined the first and only birthday present I’d ever received, fingers pressed against my cheek which was warm and raw from his harsh strike. There was this voice in my ear––a powerful, confident voice––telling me to stand up for myself, to protect myself, to fight back. But there was another voice, too––quieter, softer, farther away––telling me to do nothing because I deserved it. Because it was normal. Every time I listened to the second voice, the louder she became, until one day that powerful and confident girl stopped speaking.
The consequences of that choice were littered in front of me now, shining like diamonds in the sky for anyone to look up and see. Every undiscovered comet, and meteoroid, and spec of fairy dust represented all the things I could’ve done, all the people I could’ve been had I just listened to that first voice.
I squinted hard, moving the telescope around the never-ending galaxy of hiding places, searching for her among the stars and the planets and the beautiful, vast, unknown universe, but she wasn’t there. There was only me.
“I was right,” Noah said from behind me. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching me. “You can make the most basic articles of clothing look sexy.”
I shook my head at him, smiling. “Do you have a washing machine?” I asked, clutching my undergarments in my palm.
“Yeah, I already put your other clothes in there,” he told me, walking to the door beside the bathroom. It was a small laundry room, with a shelf where he had all his clothes stored. I threw them in and Noah added some detergent pods, before turning it on.
“Are you hungry? I have a feeling you didn’t eat much with your friends.”
“I didn’t, but I just want to sleep.”
“Then let’s go to sleep.”
“You can, um––” I pointed to his shirt “––take that off while we sleep. If you want.”
“Is that what you want, Maya?”
I nodded.
He took it off, once again exposing his pain that he turned into beauty.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked quietly, my voice breaking.
“I’m okay,” he assured me softly. “We can talk about it another day. Let me take care of you tonight.”
He turned off the lamp and slid in, pulling me against his body. His long legs intertwined with mine under the covers until every part of us was connected.
“I’m a cuddle person,” he warned.
“The cuddliest.” I snuggled deeper into his chest, my eyelids already closing with heavy exhaustion. “You know . . . there’s another reason why I was always so hesitant to fall asleep.”
“What is it?”
“It started a few weeks after I met you,” I breathed. “You made me feel a certain way, so I would force myself not to sleep in fear that I’d wake up and it would all be a dream. That you would be a dream. I still fear that, Noah.”
He tugged me closer and rubbed circles on my back under his baggy shirt. “You reignited everything that makes me real, Maya. As long as I have you, I can never cease to exist.” I felt his lips continue to move on my forehead, but I had already slipped under the sweet blanket of unconsciousness.
