Silence

17

I ask him out two days later after he drops heavy hints at work. I was unsure how long I should wait. What would be appropriate if we really would take a step back and not get ahead of things? He solves that question by dropping by my desk.
"You don't call, you don't write. You don't ask me out. How long does a man have to wait?"

I giggle. Sign.
"Louis, would you like to go out on a date with me tonight?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask. It's a bit sudden, don't you think? I have to clear my schedule. Yes, Harry. I would love to." He teases.

I shove him playfully as we head out the door.
"I'll pick you up at six." I sign.

He didn't exactly give me time to plan something beforehand. I don't care. I get to take him out! See him. The old me would have freaked out. Panicked. Canceled. Not the new me. The new me can be spontaneous. Right?

I say goodbye on the train. Hurry home. I have an idea of what we can do. Something I used to do by myself. I hope he'll like it. We should probably eat something too. I google restaurants nearby the place I'm taking him to. Stress out. I can't exactly call to make reservations. Luckily I find a restaurant where you can make reservations online. I let out a breath. Relieved.

I hurry to the shower. Quick wash up. Fix my hair. Find something to wear. I glance at the time. I have to get going.

I knock at his door a minute to six. He opens it. Brightly smiling. I hug him.
"You look great!" I sign after we part.

"So do you. Fancy! Do I need to dress up?" He asks, looking at my sports jacket.

"You're perfect just like that." I sign. Smiles.

I take him to an art gallery.
"Art?" He questions, eyeing me curiously.

"Yeah. We can do something else if you don't like it. Personally, I love going to art galleries. It's quiet." I sign. Anxious.

He giggles. Puts a hand over his mouth.
"Sorry, that's not even funny. I never go to art galleries but I'm looking forward to it. I want to explore your interests, Harry. Get to know you on a deeper level."

I smile. Beam. We walk inside. I pay the fee. Louis walks up to a painting. Stares at it. It's just lines. Different colors. Modern art.
"Huh. I don't get it." He says. Scratches the side of his head.

"It's modern art. It's up to the viewers' interpretation." I explain quietly.

"Oh, okay! It's obviously a space cowboy riding a unicorn." He jokes. I laugh.

"The painter must have broken into my apartment searching for inspiration. I have something just like it stuck on my fridge. Doris made it." He chuckles.

I laugh harder. We look at the next painting.
"The birth of Christ! Look, there he is! Those lines are the stable. I'm really good at this." He grins. I laugh.

He continues to make up images as we walk around to look at the artwork. It's the most fun I ever had going to a gallery. An hour later we leave to get something to eat. I'm happy when the food turns out to be delicious. We have a great second date.

I follow him home. This time I kiss him. We're electric. So much chemistry between us. When I leave I'm affected. Emotionally and physically. I feel like I'm flying home.

It's just a five-minute ride on the tube between our places. As soon as I'm home I sit on the sofa. It's getting late but I'm too happy to sleep. That's a first. It used to be the other way around. Too sad to sleep. I haven't had nightmares in weeks.

My eyes fall on my old guitar in the corner of the room. I bite my lip but I walk over and pick it up. Take a seat again. It needs new strings. I try to remember how to tune it. I do a decent job. My fingertips are already soaring. I used to play on this for hours as a teen. Now I don't know if I can even remember any chords. I start with an easy one. E minor. I brush my hand over the strings.

I try another one. It's just like learning how to ride a bike. It's still there. I play an old Oasis song. Realizing that I'm humming along. That makes my stomach flip. I put the guitar down.

I don't know what my problem is. I'm doing better. I'm healing. Why can't I just speak? Use my voice? Why am I so blocked? I need to discuss this with my therapist. I sigh and get up to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

I climb underneath the duvet. Lay on my back. Stare at the ceiling. I'm frustrated. I should be able to talk for crying out loud. But I don't know where to start. My silence has been a comfort. The only thing I could control after my family died. Being passed around as a teenager hadn't been easy.

I sigh and turn to my side. Thinking about sending Louis a text but he's probably asleep by now. I don't want to suffocate him. I don't want to be needy. We have a good thing going. I'm not gonna mess that up. I'm not gonna be too much to handle.

I think about the kisses we shared. Wondering how it would be if we took it further one day? I avoid imagining details. Just... I haven't been intimate with someone I love before. Sure, I had a boyfriend as a teenager but that wasn't love even if I thought so at one point in time. I had occasional one-night stands as a grown-up. I haven't experienced love. Being with someone I love. That's the last thought on my mind before I drift off to sleep.