I found my first love on a sleepless night. He stayed with me because his parents were away. We didn't have a spare room so I offered him my bed, telling him I'd sleep on the floor. Considering I had a double bed it seemed foolish and that was exactly the argument he made. So we slept together, him and me, for the first time in our lives. And as the night came I found myself unable to drift off; I was wracked with consciousness that I just could not displace. I tried not to move too much so I wouldn't wake him, but it proved difficult. It went on for what seemed like hours until I felt him move; he rolled over to face me and placed his arm around me as I lay there. And as he held me against himself, in a heartbeat I was still. He calmed me like nothing else - and I liked it. I found myself trying to stay awake so I could have this moment a bit longer, but in the end I finally fell asleep. He had the touch that could quiet me. And as life went on like it never ends I understood why. And we were never the same again.
The first time we held hands we didn't know any better. It was neither right or wrong - it just was. Everything was still the same, but somehow everything was different. I could feel it in my heart, such as it was. That burning, breaking feeling that's so happy and so sad and you just can't understand how that can be. Maybe we were just kids at play, but I knew. We would talk and laugh and rough and tumble, building ourselves a foundation. We would play in the rain, jumping in puddles and try to catch the raindrops in our hands. And then we would walk home hand in hand because everything was just so good. If it wasn't love then it was a damn good impression. I never thought anything could go wrong because how could it. I had him, he had me, and the world was ours to conquer.
One day after school you weren't there waiting for me. I don't know what I thought but I stayed there waiting for you. And as the day grew darker and you didn't show up, I decided to go home. I hoped I might find you along the way, but I didn't. And when I got home and walked through the door my parents were frenzied, screaming things like "kidnapped", "police" and "abducted". I didn't know what it meant or why they were angry and it scared me. Then after what felt like an eternity my parents asked me where I'd been and I told them I'd be waiting for you, but that seemed to make things worse. Suddenly my mother was on the phone screaming at someone else and my father just told me to go to my room, so I did. I heard nothing else for the rest of the night, not until I was woken up by a tapping on my window. I lifted myself from the pillow to face the noise - it was you.
Shocked, surprised yet ever so happy, I leapt from the bed and opened the window. You clambered awkwardly through and then stood to face me. You were wearing a coat over your pyjamas, complete with a pair of slippers. I asked you why you were here and you told me you had to come because you didn't want to leave me. Confused, I asked you what you meant. Your expression became sad and your eyes filled with tears. I started to feel scared again because I didn't know what was going on, so I reached to hold your hand like I always did. You didn't pull away, but you didn't embrace me either - it was so confusing. I asked you what was wrong again and you wiped away your tears on the sleeve of your coat, took a breath and began to tell me. I don't know what I expected you to say - if anything - but it would never have been what it was. You told me your parents said you could never see me again; that we couldn't be friends anymore. My heart stopped in my chest; I'd never felt anything like it in my life.
Whether I was shocked, hurt, upset, confused - I didn't know. But it seemed like the whole world just seized and I was trapped. I stammered out a few words to the tune of "Why?", but I don't think they penetrated the air. He was biting his bottom lip, tears streaming down his face and I just didn't know what to do. Everything seemed to have gone very wrong and I had no idea why, but somehow it felt like my fault. Then, after stifling a few more tears, he explained why he wasn't there after school; he had a dentist appointment that he forgot about and so he didn't tell me not to wait for him today. That was it - a dentist appointment. It's not that it was a big deal, of course, though I admit I was a little hurt when he didn't show up, but it seemed to me that this - all of this - was because he had to go to the dentist. In that moment some part of me began to feel angry. In my prepubescent head he was being taken away from me because of a needle-happy tooth fairy with a university degree. I didn't know what I was going to do about it, but I felt incensed enough to purge the fear from my mind and ask him if he wanted to stay. He said he couldn't and that we could get in trouble, but somehow I didn't care. I wanted him to stay, here, with me, and to Hell with the consequences. So I told him that I didn't want him going home in the dark - he could stay until morning and sneak back when it was light. He agreed. I took his coat, hung in on the back of my door and we clambered into my bed. And as we both drifted off to sleep I felt his hand reach for mine beneath the covers, so I reached back and found his. Together again, his touch moved my heart to silence once more, and it felt like - if only for tonight - everything was right with the world.
Morning came and neither of us noticed until we were violently awoken by my mother shrieking. Dazed and disorientated, my confusion was compounded only by my alarm. And as reality set in and I began to remember everything that had transpired the night before and my alarm deepened as I realised that he was still here. The two of us sat bolt upright on my bed as my mother continued her tirade of unintelligible screeching, my father then burst into my bedroom looking like he was ready to have a fight. Seeing me and him together, my father relaxed his expression and led my mother out of the room. He and I just sat there in silence; we didn't move and barely even dared to breathe. A few moments later my father came back into my bedroom, stood before us and calmly asked why he was here, so I told him. He seemed unmoved by my explanation so I didn't know what to think, but I do remember thinking it might be okay. My father spoke again and said that I had to get dressed. He didn't tell me why, but he said that I had to do it quickly and be downstairs quickly.
After he left the room I sat there stunned. I didn't know what to think or feel –everything just seemed surreal. I wondered what I did – what we did – that was so wrong. I knew he shouldn't have left his house in the middle of the night, but he didn't get lost; he was with me, so surely that was okay. As the perplexity began to subside I did as instructed, offering a t-shirt to him in the process. He took it from me but seemed remarkably sullen. I suppose I knew why; he was going to be in a lot of trouble with his mother. However I thought that maybe I could do something to comfort him, so as he changed from his pyjama top to my t-shirt I walked over and embraced him. I felt his heart skip a beat – it might have been romantic in some other circumstance. So as I stood there holding him, he held me back. I didn't question it because it just felt like the right thing to do.However, not a moment later and to my surprise, he began to cry. I don't know why and I didn't question that, either. I just knew that it felt like I needed to be there – that he needed me – so there I was. I closed my eyes and held him just a little bit tighter as he wept into my shoulder. Maybe it was all I could do, but maybe that was enough.
As we made our way downstairs I could hear my mother shouting down the phone again, only this time there were words like 'illegal' and 'sick'. I still didn't know why there was such upheaval but I found some strength in myself as I held his hand. When we entered the room I didn't know what to expect. My mother faced away from us while she continued to bellow at whoever was on the other end of the line and my father sat silently on the opposite side of the room. He was the first to see us and his eyes widened when he did. He leapt from his seat in our direction and hastily separated us. I moved to speak but my father silenced me and told my mother that he was leaving to take him home. My mother ended the call with the words "And this is the end of it". 'The end of what?' I wondered, but shook it from my mind as I watched my father march my friend out of the front door. I wanted to argue but the force with which my mother hung up the phone shocked me into silence and I turned to face her.
I couldn't tell you exactly how I felt in that moment because I shifted through so many things, but I can say with certainty that I settled on fear. I felt like I had done something unforgivable and was about to suffer some almighty retribution. My mother wore an expression I couldn't describe, but it told me that she might need an alibi very soon; I didn't know what that meant.
I expected her to start screaming at me at any second so I braced myself, but to my astonishment she just walked out of the room. Not a word or a sound; she just left. To say I was relieved would belittle the feeling, but I still didn't know what the problem was. No one had told me anything, there was just this backdrop of shouting, screaming and outrage, and I was left standing there clueless, scared and just a little bit empty.
I didn't know what to do so I just sat on the couch, unmoving and silent like I was always told to be, with nothing but the sound of my own heart beating.
