Say The Word

Chapter 12- Jesus, Vastel, Get It Together

Oh, lord, my heart.

"You know, I'm not the best person to be going out with. Not that I dislike you, I'm just emotionally unavailable. Hones-"

"Stop it" ─ I covered his mouth with both my hands, my chest was tightening up. ─ "I do not want to hear it, so please don't tell me anything. I just want to not do this right now."

His hot wet tongue licked a wet strip into my hand, making me release him instantly.

"Fuckin' hell, geep, let me finish, would you?" he sighed. "It's not that I wouldn't date you. Dating is cool and all, but I actually want to be available for you. Things for me now aren't the best and it's unfair to you if I were to agree to going out with you then proceed to neglect you."

I kept quiet. That day, the color of sunset dyeing the sky had set the perfect atmosphere for a rejection.

"Geep, look at me," he said, lifting my chin up. "I like you, I really do. 'S why I don't want to hurt you. Heck, I'd be lying if I say I wasn't a little jealous when shrimpy talked to you earlier, or when you implied that you talked to Elmana back at the office. Even when I don't believe that that bitch had nothing to do with it, 'cause I trust you, I trust that you can tell if she's lying, and I trust you enough to lie in your lap,"

My eyes stung. It could be because of the rays of dusty orange sunlight, or it could be because of what he had said. He had a point though. Was either of us emotionally available for each other? My parents just had a divorce, and I too started to doubt what love meant. He was hurt, already covered in scars. Were we really suitable for each other?

"Hey, geep, we can stop this rent-a-friend thing if you want," he hugged me, tightly, as if he did not want to let go too. "Some friend offered me a job I can sub with this."

A tear rolled down my face and dripped onto his jacket, staining it.

"Geep? Are you crying?" he pulled away. His fingers gently wiping away my tears that were now uncontrollably dripping down, I could not tell if it was an act out of pity or it was just pure malevolence. Rough fingers caressed my cheeks, in the most unendurably comforting way. He hushed, "Hey, hey, look at me, it's okay if you don't want to stop, really."

My vision was blurry; his facial features were a mess. There was no sign of stopping to my crying. I wanted to hold on to the things we had between us. I was unprepared to let go just yet. Pulling me into him, my damp face rested on his chest, as he wrapped his arms around me. "Goddamn it, geep, Can't stand you crying, you know that? Don't cry for me, I'm not worth it, your tears are too precious."

"How much is the new job paying you," I finally managed to sob out.

"Why are you ask-"

"Just answer the question, please." My heart was about to explode into a million tiny pieces.

"Fifteen per hour. Geep-"

"Then go to that job instead. You need this money, right? Go to that job instead."

"Geep, don't force yourself. If you want this to continue, just say it."

"No, I cannot hold you back just for my own selfish needs. And I just- I can't see you as a friend anymore." His uniform was drenched once again.

"Can we just- Can we just talk about this tomorrow? Don't you have work to do? You'll be late," I tried to put some distance between us.

That only caused him to squeeze me more, "'S fine if I'm a little late. There's no way I'm leaving you here like this. Now, take deep breaths."

Going limp, I bawled my eyes out on the spot. 

▪▫▪▫▪

"Je suis de retour," I croaked, pushing pen the heavy wooden door.

"Bienvenue à la maison*, Vastel," a familiar voice answered. Papa? (No shit, Sherlock.Who else would it be?)

"You're home early today, pa," I mumbled.

"Yeah, I had someone cover for me. I had not been able to spend time with you," he answered from the kitchen. "Go shower, it's dirty outside. I bought your favourite."

I only managed a half-hearted reply before dashing up the stairs in time to not let him see my post-crying self. The sound of piping hot soupe à l'oignon* sounded amazing to me.

▪▫▪▫▪

Dinner was not soupe à l'oignon, instead it was ratatouille. Was I going to complain? No. It was fine and I was alright with it. At least I was spending time with my papa; it was all that mattered to me.

My first instinct when I took a bite out of the food was 'This is bland, needs more salt'. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, telling me the food was tasteless. Papa was not saying anything, just focused on his food. I tried my best not to remember the times we would talk about the kinds of patients in the ER* when Vati was with us. Suddenly, it became clear that Vati was the reason papa could crack jokes and smile. Papa was numbing himself with work and I knew it. Yet, there was nothing I could say or do about it for it would most likely make papa all defensive,

"How's work?" I asked, trying to not stay in silence with him. Needless to say, I was not going to let this rare chance of talking to my father slip. We had nothing in common yet it did not mean that we could not bond.

"It's alright. I had twenty plus patients today," he shrugged. "The food you cooked so far was all pretty good. What are you going to make tomorrow?"

"I don't know, pa. What do you want to eat?" I forced myself to take another bite of the flavourless dinner.

"What have you not made?"

"I don't know." At that point, I was just mindlessly answering him. I was supposed to cherish the time I had with my papa. However, I was there thinking about what Cebario was going to talk about on the roof the next day.

"Are you okay? Your eyes are swollen." Papa caught me off guard, striking a nerve.

Ah, so he still noticed. I tried to brush him off, "It's nothing. I am alright."

He stood up from the table, taking his emptied plate along with him. He ruffled my hair, "I'm here if you need anything, mon chou*."

I felt hollowed out, just like when I had cried after papa and Vati's divorce.

* Bienvenue à la maison – Welcome home

* Soupe à l'oignon – A kind of French dish with onions and beef stock with melted cheese on top.

* ER – emergency room

* Mon chou – my cabbage