Four Week Fiance 2 (12 page)

“I’m an asshole.” He leaned away from me and lay flat on his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said and lay flat on my back as well. We both just lay there, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to say now. I wanted to ask him what he really thought about me, if he’d ever thought about me in any other way. If he’d ever love me. But I knew that would be pathetic. Just like me. I hated feeling this way. He’d think I was crazy, acting all emotional over nothing.

“Doesn’t it sometimes seem like the world is against you?” TJ finally said, his voice sounding different, less sure of himself.

“Yeah, it does,” I agreed, wondering what he was talking about. “Why do you say that?”

“I just sometimes feel that way,” he said, his voice even lower now. “Everything in my world has always been black and white. Hot or cold. Yes or no. But that’s not always how life works. My life has always been me against the world.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “You have Cody, you have my family.” I didn’t want to tell him that he had me. That seemed too personal. Too revealing.

“Yeah, but in my heart and brain, it’s all been me against the world.” He sighed. “And I’ve always told myself that . . .” His voice trailed off and I waited for him to continue. However, after a few minutes of silence he still hadn’t said anything and so I spoke up.

“You told yourself what?”

“Nothing, I’m not making sense.” He rolled over and then I rolled over to look at him. His eyes were tender, but his lips were twisted. He looked so lost, like a little boy, and I felt myself loving him so much. My heart filled to the brim as I stared at him. I loved this man so much it hurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine.

“Thank you,” I said in reply.

“It killed me to see you crying.” He took a deep breath. “I thought something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I know, but I thought . . .” His voice trailed off again and he closed his eyes. “This is a mess.”

“What’s a mess?” I reached over and touched his shoulder.

“Nothing.” His lips twisted. “You’re so special—you know that, right?”

“What’s so special about me?” I joked, but my heart stood still as I waited for him.

“You just don’t even know.” His eyes seemed to darken and he was silent for a few seconds as he stared at me. “Oh, Mila, butterflies envy you.” He reached over and caressed my face.

“Why would butterflies envy me?” I laughed awkwardly. The air seemed to stand still in the room as I waited for his answer.

“The sight of you. The sound of your laugh. The lightest touch of your arm. The smell of your hair. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile. The way you play with your hair when you’re nervous. The way you listen to me. The way you make me feel when I’m with you. The whole world stands still when my eyes catch yours. The whole world stands still and even the butterflies are caught up in your aura.”

“Oh, TJ,” I said, about to say more, but he held a finger to my lips and smiled, a beautiful, handsome, heartwarming smile that made my heart ache. I reached over and pulled him closer to me.

“The sight of you ignites my heart, Mila. The sound of your laugh is music to my ears. Just knowing that I’m next to you, the way that makes me feel, it’s enough to let me know . . .” His voice trailed off again and he looked away from me then.

“Let you know what?” I asked breathlessly.

“I knew I was falling for you when the world stood still,” he said, as if he were talking to himself. He then looked back at me, a confused expression on his face. “When I saw you crying just now, it felt like the world was going to combust and burst into flames. It made me feel things. Think things.” He sighed.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked him softly, hope starting to bubble inside of me.

“I’m still trying to decide.” He looked confused.

“Do you love me?” I asked, my throat immediately freezing as soon as the words were out. How could I have asked him that? I wanted to die as soon as I’d said the words.

“I’m trying not to. I’m really trying not to.” He looked so bleak and I wasn’t sure, but I reached over to him to bring him even closer to me, to comfort him, even though it was my heart that was breaking. All I could think inside was
love me, love me, love me, please, love me
.

“Don’t fall for me, Mila. Please don’t fall for me,” he said as he kissed my neck and held me close.

I already have.
I closed my eyes and held him close, praying that more tears wouldn’t start to fall.

T
he whole room was dark as I crawled out of bed. I was thirsty and hungry and I rubbed my eyes as I made my way to my bedroom door. I saw my toy soldiers on the floor next to my bed and picked up two of them to take with me to the kitchen. I walked quietly to the door, as I knew my dad would be upset if he knew I was out of bed. I’d get in trouble and grounded and I wouldn’t be able to play video games, and that would suck.

My hand froze on the doorknob as I turned it and it squeaked. I paused and held my soldiers tightly as I peeked into the corridor. There was no noise and no doors were opening. I was safe.

I crept out of the room and walked softly, avoiding all the loose floorboards that I knew made noise. I made it to the top of the stairs when all of a sudden I heard a noise. I froze, my eyes widening, and I looked behind me to make sure my dad wasn’t coming out. No doors opened, but once again I heard the noise. I tilted my head to the side and listened again. It sounded like a sob. As if someone were crying.

I felt my lower lip wobbling and I wasn’t sure why. I started to head back to my bedroom but then stopped and walked towards the bedroom my mom slept in. My friends thought it was weird that my mom and dad slept in different rooms, but it was all I’d ever known.

I made my way to her bedroom and opened the door slowly. I stared into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and then I saw her, curled up on the bed, her face in her hands and she was sobbing, her hair a mess on her pillow. I stood there, watching her, my heart thudding, my stomach feeling empty and my face turning red with heat. Her sobs seemed to get louder and louder as I stood there and I felt both of my toy soldiers falling to the floor. I bit down on my lower lip, scared that my mom heard the noise, but she didn’t. If anything, her sobs got even louder. As her tears cascaded down her face I watched as her fists hit her pillow as if she were punching it. I didn’t really understand what was going on.

“Mommy?” I said softly, not sure what to do. I wanted to go over and hug her. I wanted to go over and ask her if everything was OK. I wanted her to hold me in her arms and kiss the top of my head like she did every morning before I went to school.

But my feet wouldn’t move. I leaned back into the doorway and started to suck my thumb. My dad would be pissed if he saw me sucking my thumb. He told me boys didn’t suck their thumb. I tried not to, but there were some times when I just couldn’t stop myself. This was one of those times. I wanted to be a big boy, I really did. I was eight, I should be able to stop, but sometimes I just couldn’t.

“Mom,” I said again, softly, wishing she would look up and see me, and stop crying, but she didn’t hear me or see me. Instead she just kept crying and crying.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” she cried out into her pillow and I started sucking on my thumb harder.

“Mom,” I whispered, feeling scared, my whole body feeling cold with uncertainty.

“I just want to die,” she cried out and I so badly wanted to go over to her and kiss her. I so badly wanted to go over to tell her I loved her. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I stood there for about ten more minutes and then quietly picked up my toy soldiers, closed the door and made my way to my room and crawled back into my bed, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep until sleep finally took me.

When I woke up the next morning, my father told me that my mother had gone to Heaven earlier that morning. All I did was stare at him as my heart closed in and my stomach tightened. He didn’t reach out to hug me or ask me if I was okay and I didn’t reach out to him. Instead I just walked back to my room, got back into my bed, curled into a ball and sucked my thumb.

Every morning, I would wake up and just lie there without opening my eyes. It used to be that I wanted to avoid the beginning of the new day for as long as possible. I’d lie there and imagine that I was somewhere else, anywhere else. Sometimes I’d picture I was on a deserted island somewhere, the sun on my face, the salty air caressing my cheeks as I tried to figure out how to climb the closest coconut tree and pick as many coconuts as I could. Other times, I would picture myself at Mila’s house with her family, playing board games or just sitting around the dinner table talking about our days.

I’d always found it funny that they’d always seemed so interested in hearing about my life, as if I were important or mattered to them. No one else had ever seemed to care. Certainly not my father. He cared about: my grades, my sportsmanship and what girls I dated. There was nothing else in my life that was important to him. I’d learned at an early age not to bother going to him when I was happy, excited or sad. He didn’t listen and he didn’t care. And I learned not to care. Not about anything. It wasn’t important. I wasn’t important. Though for some reason I was important to Mila and Cody, and their parents, and even Nonno looked at me like I mattered. It was a strange feeling, nice, but uncomfortable.

When I woke up in the mornings now, I still kept my eyes closed, but it wasn’t to think about other places I could be, it was to let my mind think about Mila completely unadulterated. I would picture her smile, the bright happy look in her eyes, the way she plays with her hair when she’s nervous. I would think about the way she smells, like roses on a dewy day, fresh, crisp, clean, fragrant. I would imagine her touching my arm or chest, imagine her holding me close, pressing her head against my chest and holding me tightly. I would see myself pulling her into my arms and kissing her forehead and then we would just be there, bound together by some emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge. And then as my anxiety crept in, and the doubts started to come, I would find my eyes opening slowly, ready to face the day, to forget the fantasy that I didn’t think I really wanted. And then I would focus on the task at hand and on why there will never be a moment like that in my daydreams again.

This morning, I awoke, but I didn’t just lie there. I didn’t focus on anything. My eyes flew open and I looked over to the right to look at Mila, to see that she was okay. It was weird having her share my bed now. It was weird that sometimes I woke up and thought of her and kissed her and caressed her in my mind, yet in person—in real life—I just lay there, not able to express the feelings within, in person.

“Morning,” I said softly when I saw her eyelashes fluttering as I faced her. I knew she was awake and was just trying to pretend she was sleeping. She didn’t answer me and I smiled to myself as I felt a surge of happiness trailing through my body for no real reason. It always surprised me how happy I felt just being in her company. Unfortunately, I also felt surges of anger and jealousy when around her. If she looked at another guy and smiled in her sweet, friendly way, it enraged me. Didn’t she realize that other men might read something into her smile? What annoyed me even more was wondering if she was interested in them as well? What really did she see in me? What did she want from me? Would she be happy to be with another man?

I knew these thoughts were irrational, but they always came and I absolutely hated them. I hated feeling like she was taking over my brain; making me think and feel things I didn’t want to feel. She opened up doubts, pains, hurts I didn’t want to think about. The happiness was a high, but the flipside of that, well, the flipside was dark.

“I said, good morning, Mila,” I said again and reached over to tickler her under the arm.

“No, you didn’t.” Her eyes popped open as her body reacted and she pushed my hand away. “You said ‘morning,’ not good morning.” She smiled at me sweetly as she yawned gently. I watched as she pushed her hair away from her face and wondered at how beautiful she was. How could her brown eyes do so much to me when she looked at me?

“So you were awake?” I grinned at her and leaned forward to give her a quick and soft kiss on the lips. Her eyes widened slightly and she just lay there and stared back at me as I moved back.

“I never said that.” She bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “My subconscious must have heard.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded, rolling my eyes. “That must be it.”

“Yeah, it is.” She laughed and then reached over and touched my hair gingerly, running her fingers through my unkempt, short, dark locks before leaving my hair and touching my face. Her fingers ran along my jawline, touching my stubble, touching me lightly as they made their way to my chin. Her fingers were dainty, light as she touched me, and I felt my body freezing uncomfortably. Her touch was like magic, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way she looked at me adoringly as she caressed my face. It made me feel . . . well, I can’t describe the emotion. It turned my stomach into knots and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt out of control.

“So are you feeling better this morning?” I asked her, pulling back and looking away from her. Sometimes gazing into her eyes was too unnerving for my equilibrium.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Her voice was uncertain and I gazed at her again. This time it was her eyes that fell to the side uncertainly as she fiddled with her fingers. An awkward silence befell us and I stretched out in the bed and closed my eyes. I could feel Mila curling up and hugging herself next to me. I wanted to reach over and hold her tight. I wanted to tell her that we didn’t have to be uncomfortable with each other. I wanted to hold her close and tell her to let her worries go. But I couldn’t. Instead I pulled the sheet off of my body and turned to her with a wicked grin.