Always You

Always You: Part 12

Giving him 'some time' has already turned into 8 days.

Sitting on the chrome stool, I tucked the top of my feet on the decorative bar placed in the middle, the coolness making me shiver despite the rising humidity. The clink, clink, clink of my fingernails against the countertop created a strange soothing rhythm for the thoughts firing across my mind, sort of like a rabbit as it hopped back and forth. Looking into the dark lukewarm liquid swirling throughout my mug, I stared at my reflection. I tried to find myself there, but all I saw was a stranger. A mirage except there wasn't any proverbial truth to be had just the hard facts of life:

You can't stay here, New. This isn't healthy or fair.

In the 8 days that had passed since the kitchen incident, we had settled into a predicable routine. He would make breakfast and plate it before making his way to my, his, bedroom and knock on the door gently, calling my name softly before entering. Usually I didn't wake up, so leaning toward me he would give little shakes to my shoulder. Once he was sure I was up, he would exit as quickly as he had entered. Usually I was right behind him, only needing to slip on socks or even throw on a sweater. Once seated we would try to engage in small talk. Most of the time it was awkward ; our paths had diverged so much that it was hard to find much in common. But once in a while I would catch him watching me, eyes dark, but I couldn't fault him, I know I do the same thing.

I'm sort of relieved? Maybe validated? Regardless, it does feel nice to know that we are still attracted to each other. But clearly this has been a lesson in love—chemistry doesn't equal compatibility.

After breakfast, he would spend most of his day outside, tending to his farm. I mostly stayed inside, catching up on some much needed rest. Watching TV or reading manga, I would spend hours being NuNew again: the young boy in his 20s who loved watching anime and eating desserts to his heart's content, not the most famous singer in Thailand who's boyfriend left him suddenly.

At night, I was the one to cook dinner. I had no idea what Hia did outside, but I knew he would walk in around 7 pm. After another round of somewhat forced conversation, I would give Hia time in his room to gather what he needed before and after his shower. Usually by 9 pm, we were going our separate ways again; no talking besides the obligatory 'goodnight'.

I'm so exhausted.

Sighing again, I pulled the cup closer to me, hoping some of the warmth would seep into my skin, warming my heavy chest.

It's clear that the death of his parents was traumatic. And needing some time to process, or be away is a normal response. I can't even image what I would do if the roles were reversed.

Him leaving stung, but honestly what the hurt the most is that he didn't trust me enough to share his pain. I thought we loved each other, and isn't it what couples do, share the joys and burdens of life?

I think it's clear that before we—I—entertain the idea of being together again, that some serious conversations need to be had, if only he would talk to me!

Needing a break from my thoughts, I moved away from the island, dumping the rest of my coffee into the sink, not interested anymore. Washing the mug, I focused on the warm water on my hands, the soapy bubbles tickling my wrist and upper arm. Humming, I tried to focus on the present moment.

"Who are you?"

Startled, I dropping the cup into the sink, as the same hand went to my chest, my shirt now covered in suds, the wetness making it cling to my skin.

"Oi! Who are you?"

"I think I asked first, child."

Clenching my teeth, I took a deep breath through my nose. Putting on my best smile, I dried my hands before paying respect to him.