What A Gem

It’s just past 2 in the morning and the only light to be seen is the end of my cigarette.

            “You know those things will kill you.” Patrick said between swigs of Natty Light. After a long drag I responded

“Not soon enough.” The smoke coming out, curling throughout the space between us. A sickly sweet smell that Patrick had told me before was enticing to him. I reached my hand in his direction with the butt clamped between my pointer and middle finger. He leaned forward, taking his own drag that left him with a mild coughing fit, solved only by another gulp of Natty. I held back a laugh, but still felt the smile pull up the corners of my mouth.

“Shut up Liz.” He had finished coughing and opened another beer. I took another drag and leaned back while I blew it out. Leaving a sort of trail as I lay back down on the warped wooden deck. Patrick stared out into the yard, listening to the crickets.

“What are you thinking about?” I’d found a nail that was slightly up out of the wood. Not up enough to hurt you, just to snag your shirt.

“I don’t know.” He usually didn’t, but that never stopped me from asking. I didn’t want to miss the one day he would give me something thoughtful or outrageous. Peeking over his shoulder he met my curious eyes “What are you thinking?”

            “I’m sad that I can’t see the stars. Didn’t the clouds know we had a tradition to uphold?” All day had been clear and blue, perfect for back to school star spotting. My mom had always let Patrick run across the street to sit on our porch point with me. She had always liked him, or at least the idea of the guy next door that’s been tirelessly conveyed through all her hallmark movies. To me, Patrick was just Patrick.

            “Ya it’s a shame. I like stars too. They must not have gotten your memo.” Patrick was propped on his elbows now, head tilted up in hopes that his eyes would shine with something.

            “Do you think the stars are ever wanting to look at us?”

            “Stars are literally balls of gas. So no.” Patrick rolled his eyes, causing me to put my cigarette down in the ash tray, reach over, and knock him off his elbows. He laughed, rolling his body over onto mine, in hopes he would make it difficult for me to breathe. His back was on top of me and his neck near my mouth. “Jeez Lizard. Your deck is so lumpy. How do you even walk on it?” He squirmed a little on top of me, trying to prove his point.

            “Get… Off…” was all I could gasp out between giggles. He continued to wiggle on top of me, until knocking himself off with one good hip thrust. I quickly took action by grabbing his wrist and rolling on top of him so we were face to face. I grabbed his other wrist, pinning him to the wood and leaving him vulnerable.

            The energy was different with me on top. I felt a butterfly in my stomach and felt a bead of sweat start in the small of my back, even though it was only fifty-eight degrees tonight. Patrick’s mouth was in his familiar smirk, but his eyes didn’t match.

“Sorry.” I said as I swung my leg back over his hips and brought it up in front of me.

“I didn’t say Uncle.” He seemed almost hurt that I had moved. “You were fine.” He placed one hand on top of mine and with his other lifted my chin so my eyes would meet his. Those green pools before me matched the grass in my backyard. Reminding me of all the times I had flung myself into it to feel millions of blades tickle my sun kissed skin.

“What are you thinking?” His response was just to lean forward and plant his lips against mine. It was only for a second and right when my eyes closed he was gone. I blinked to focus in on his own eyes in the dark. They were scared. I tried to listen for his breathing, but was too distracted by the thump-thump that had jumped into my throat.

“What are you thinking?” his voice just barely louder than the crickets. I was thinking about everything. Patrick is my best friend. I was thinking about when we were five he pushed me too hard on the swing in his backyard and I fell off, gaining a scar on my knee that I can still trace. I was thinking about when we were ten building blanket forts in my bedroom only to fall asleep in the living room watching movies. I was thinking about when we were fifteen sitting on our stomachs with pens in our hands, a map in front of us, and nothing, but wonder in our eyes because next year we could take a road trip with our new freedom. I was thinking about how now, at twenty-two, everything and nothing had changed. Wouldn’t my mom be pleased? Patrick was still staring at me.

“Are you drunk?” He turned his head so I couldn’t see his face.

“No. I’m just barely buzzed if anything. I’m sorry, I just thought,” he trailed off, moving his hand from my chin and picking up his half empty natty. “I was wrong. No worries dude.” He lifted the can to his lips for several seconds and then crushed it. I wanted him to be happy, I always did. Even more than I wanted it for myself. Maybe if I just gave him a chance, I don’t know. He tossed the crushed can into the yard.

“Pat?” He looked at me with eyes that were foggy, either from a start of tears or maybe his mind had already left this porch. I reached a hand behind his neck, bring him closer to me.

He tasted of beer and the burgers that we’d bought from McDonalds for dinner. His lips seemed to say thank you. I focused on my breathing. Patrick put a hand around to the small of my back as he pushed against my lips enough to lay me down. In and out, in and out. Hands traveled from my back to my own face and neck, then made their decent. I could feel my heart quickening. Down my side and under my shirt I felt his unseasonably cold fingers make their way to the clip of my bra. I could feel my breath hitch in my throat. Patrick, who I had known forever, wasn’t looking like Patrick, wasn’t smelling like Patrick, wasn’t acting like Patrick. While one of his hands cupped my breast the other brought my hand to the zipper on his jeans.

I shot up off my back.

“Are you okay?” Patrick was still touching me. Brushing the hair off the nape of my neck to plant a kiss. I don’t know how he didn’t notice every hair there on its end.

“Why don’t I meet you inside in a minute? You can go up to my room.” He forced himself to hold back a smile. Kissing me sloppy on the cheek he bounded up from his back to the front door to feel his way in the dark through the house he knew too well.

I was shaking, hyperventilating, there was a weight on my chest that I couldn’t remove. I could see the black closing in around my eyes. I reached for a cigarette that took me several tries to light, as opposed to my one strike wonder. I took the biggest breath I could, but this didn’t help. I was being crushed, I couldn’t breathe, fuck fuck fuck. I just needed to count to five. Like I had practiced in therapy, but had only used twice during an actual panic attack.

One. One thing you can taste. The tobacco was prominent and I tried to take another drag to ground that taste. It wasn’t bringing me back. I was still shaking. I was feeling the hot tears spring and run down my cheeks.

Two. Two things you can smell. Again I can back to the cigarette with the smoke dancing up from the end that was slowly diminishing with none of my help. I could smell the backwash beer still sitting in Patrick’s empty cans next to me. Beer was all I could smell in His house. Beer in the air, on his breath, in my mouth…

Three. Three things you can hear. Crickets. There was only their singing, but it sounded more like a dead silence. Like there was nothing around or “no one around to hear you scream…”

Four. Four things you can feel. I feel my hair knotted around me and the tears making it stick to my face. I feel the soreness in my arms from pushing and the bruises from fingers. I feel the ghost of His hand on my mouth while His other pulled down at my jeans. I feel pain, pain so intense and prominent that it rips me away from His clutches. Back to the porch at 2 in the morning looking into the black of the yard.

Five. Five things you can see. I see that my own hand has twisted against me. I see that my still burning cigarette is melting the flesh on my left forearm. I see the white knuckles of my hand staying tense, despite the pain radiating up my arm. I see the pink, red, and ash that is left behind when my fingers do loosen enough to let the butt fall down by my toes. I see the somehow still burning butt flicker twice then die.

The smell of burning flesh was stronger than the actual smell of the cigarette. I never thought I’d know what that smell would be like. The pain was still there but I could already feel the weight on my chest creeping in and the smell of beer bringing to overpower me. I quickly lit another cigarette. Breathing in deep to start it off. His voice was back in my ear “tell me, is it big?” I held my breath, taking the end of this cigarette and plunging it into my forearm, about an inch from the other mark. Two burns like eyes bleeding and screaming at what they’ve seen.

I flicked the butt away to sit at my foot with the other when I felt my breathing normalize and my chest free of anything on it. Patrick was upstairs. I hope he’s asleep, but I know better. I stand up. Taking a deep breath I stare out into the darkness before turning my back to enter through the front door.

*

            The light peaking in through my curtains highlights the balled up socks on my floor and the boxers still inside of Patrick’s jeans. I felt the heat of his breath on my neck while his right arm pulled me closer in his sleep. I had watched the sun rise from where my head rested on my left arm, as a replacement pillow. I was staring at eyes I had burned into myself the night before. The ash covered blood spots that would bear witness to the horrors I was committing because of others. The painful reminders that I was always going to be damaged inside and out. They were now glittering in the sun like blue eyes filled with tears ready to spill over.

            Patrick rolled over with a groan when the sun reached his eyes. I slowly got off my twin sized mattress, grabbing panties and a large t-shirt, I padded to the bathroom as quietly as humanly possible despite the ever creaking floor. The bathroom light hummed in the background as I closely inspected my new, well, I don’t know. In the dingy light I could make out the brilliant blue, entranced by the beauty of it I rubbed my fingers over the bump of growth. A jewel? A gem? I don’t know what to call it. There was a soft tapping at the door that made me jump. When I creaked the door open I was greeted with Patrick’s face.

            “Can I come in?” He had wicked bed head and sleep still in his eyes.

            “Uh. Ya.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him in quickly. “can you look at something for me?” I could tell it was too early for him to register my question by the look on his face, but he nodded. I lifted my arm to him. The blue was bright and made me feel like two eyes were staring.

            “Jesus! What the fuck did you do?” My arm was in his clutches as he dragged me to the sink. He ran the water warm and dipped my arm under for him to scrub. “Fuck. What the hell Liz?”

            “It’s weird right? Like. What are these things?”

            “They’re burns. What are you talking about? How did this happen? Did you-“ Patrick was stammering.

            “They’re blue! Blue what I don’t know, but – “

            “What are you talking about? Blue what? There’s ash and blood all over your fucking arm!”

            “No, Pat–“

            “How did this - Did you do this to yourself? Don’t fucking lie to me.” Patrick was steaming. I had only seen him this way once before.

            “Patrick why are they blue?”

            “What? Liz what the hell are you talking about? Can you just tell me what happened?”

            “Look!” I held up my arm as evidence, causing the blue to sparkle and throw light onto the walls.

            “Ya Liz! What the happened?”

            “I don’t know! I burned myself last night and-“

            “Why would you do that?” Patrick’s hands were raking through his hair as he paced the small bathroom. I could see tears starting in his eyes, which scared me more than anything. The only time I had seen him cry was at age ten. He fell out of a tree in his backyard and broke his arm. When his dad came out to see what the yelling was about he’d grabbed Patrick’s broken arm and said “boys don’t cry” with a completely straight face. I’d ran across the street and through the front door of my home so fast my mom thought I was on fire.

            “I didn’t mean to! Not the first time anyway, I just. I couldn’t breathe Patrick. I-”

            “What are you-“

            “Are you going to let me talk?” He studied me, then seemed to deflate to sitting on the edge of the tub. I took a deep breath. “I hadn’t planned on hurting myself. It just happened. We were kissing and then it was like an elephant was on my chest. I sent you upstairs. I just tried to get it under control, but I was somewhere else and, I don’t know. The next thing I saw was that my cigarette was digging into my arm. I didn’t consciously do it.”

            “That’s the first one.” Patrick’s voice came out as a whisper through his hands, balled up against his lips in a weird almost praying position.

            “Yes.” I looked at Patrick, but he was staring straight ahead, trying to memorize the seashell pattern on the wallpaper. “The second time I felt myself slipping again. I didn’t know how to bring myself back and stay. So I just.” I leaned against the door with my arms crossed to hide my shame. “I needed to know what was real in that moment and the pain helped.” The tension in the bathroom made the room seem so much smaller. I worried Patrick would hear how loud my heart was beating. Finally, he looked up at me. His eyes seemed to be darker.

            “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” I couldn’t hide my confusion to this question and made a face that prompted Patrick to go on. “Eliza. You are my best friend. You have been since I could remember. Last night. I needed you to know how I felt, but I didn’t have the words. I didn’t know that my kissing you would have caused this. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew these spells were still happening. Clearly they’re getting worse too!” Patrick pointed at my arm, even though he couldn’t see the burns through how i'd crossed them.

            “Patrick, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t expect that to happen. I just wanted to make you happy. You know I always do.” Patrick was on his feet and in front of me in two quick steps.

            “How would having sex make me happy if you were panicking about that piece of shit the whole time?”

            “It was fine Pat.” I glanced down at my feet, avoiding his gaze.

            “Liz stop.”

“Well what do you want me to say Patrick?” I was getting uncomfortable talking about this.

            “The truth! I just want you to be honest with me!” Patrick was tired of dancing around this topic and I couldn’t take it anymore.

            “The truth about what? You know everything thing! Patrick I don’t want this to rule my life anymore. I can’t let it. I’m trying so hard to get back to some sort of normal. I hadn’t had sex or even fucking kissed someone since him and it’s been a little over a year. I’m going to have to hurt myself and power through these things to be okay.” I was breathing heavy now. I hadn’t said any of this out loud before. I had just thought about it. How would I normalize sex again? “I just want to get back to normal and I know that’s going to be hard. I just have to do it.” I was running out of steam and just rambling. Patrick was avoiding my eyes and had backed up to rest against the sink now.

            “I just don’t want to hurt you like that Liz. I really-“ He cut himself off. I could see the tears on his cheeks. I moved forward to brush them off with my thumbs so his face would be between my hands

            “Hey. It’s okay. I know.” We stood like that for a while. Just breathing and staring at each other. It was almost nice.

“What’s all this conversation about?” My mom had pushed open the bathroom door and was staring in at us. Patrick shuffled in front of me.

“I stayed over last night. I was just looking for the mouth wash. It was a uh- bit more drinking than I had planned.

“You couldn’t walk across the street?” My mom was skeptical.

“I wouldn’t let him. I was worried he’d puke in his sleep or something.” Mom didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t press the matter any farther. She bent down to pick up a towel that Patrick had knocked to the floor and I noticed her wrists. They sparkled like diamonds. Shining rainbows all through the room. How had I never seen that before? Mom put the towel back on the rack.

 “Well come down stairs and eat some breakfast.” Patrick and I stared at each other as we listened to her footsteps go down the stairs.

            “What are you thinking about?” He asked me.

            “Diamonds.”