The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 23

The rickety wooden floorboards creak with every tentative step as the water-stained rug that ascends towards the third-floor ruffles and crunches under the tracks of my shoes. The door to my apartment is in sight, and my stomach begins to form a pit, and my mouth dries up. When I get to the door, I squat down and peek under the door frame; there are three pairs of legs waiting near the kitchen table, one pacing, one sitting with a leg jiggling, and the other crossed out in front with the heel tapping on the ground. My father is pacing, the surgeon jiggling their leg, and my mother tapping.

Cautiously, I turn the door handle apprehensively and crack it open just enough so a sliver of warm light from the kitchen slices through the eerie hallway. Instantly the door handle is yanked away from me, and I find myself being enveloped in a cluster of arms. The moment of safety and security is welcoming, as the physical touch and warmth from another aren't familiar. Unfortunately, the comfort didn't last long because as soon as they embraced me, they promptly shove me away.

"Where were you!?" my mother must have been crying. Her voice is hoarse, and it sounds weighed down.

"I was out with a friend," a subtle grin slides across my lips as I think about the kiss the mechanic and I shared.

"Did you have any idea how scared we were?" my father's boisterous shouts startle me, and I stumble back and hit the wall behind me, the smile falling away from my face.

"I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to have some fun.." the back of my throat starts to ache, and my eyes quiver as they attempt to find anything besides my father to focus on.

"Don't you cry," he sternly growls. I flinch and instinctively cover my ears. Please stop. I want to morph into the wall, to flee the scene and not be found after. All I need's a distraction just to give me enough time to slip past my parents and out the door. I need the surgeon's help, but out of the corner of my eye, I observe the swooping motion of their pen, which tells me they are writing in their leather-bound journal, of course not uttering a word. Why must they always leave me when I need them the most.

My mother steps in this time and places her hand over my father's heart to settle him down.

"What your father means, dear is that you are putting yourself and others at risk with these dramatic behaviors and reactions." Her sickeningly sweet voice hurts more than my fathers because I know her presentation is all a facade. Not to mention, I have heard it all before; she has ingrained the idea that I am a burden to others, so I know my emotions make me unpredictable. I know my body is more advanced than others, so I'm more of a threat and can seriously hurt others. I am well aware of it all.

My father's judgemental side-eye burns into me, and ever so slightly, my mind becomes numb. The emotions that once raged on inside of me that were breaking down my barriers, now settle and their presence is acknowledged but not attended to. The walls begin to build themselves up this time sturdier, thicker, denser than the one before. Everything becomes dull and muted.

Processing the moments take awhile, I am still paralyzed against the wall, but the moments begin to string together, and thoughts begin to bubble up as each one connects to the next. From what I can decipher, I let myself dehumanize tonight. I made my emotions get the best of me; I let the mechanic see this imperfect aspect as to who I was. Humans are logical, rational, the emotions they show are consistent. My father is mad because I disobeyed him and put him at risk. My mother is upset and disappointed because I worried her with my impulsive actions and general irresponsibility. They love me; only they can love fully; this is what love is.

My emotions recede, my logical awareness becoming more intense, and gradually I let my arms rest at my side, and I do not let a tear fall, at least not in front of them. I clench my fist and jaw, my face goes blank, and a mask is placed over myself.

"I am aware that what I did was wrong. It will not happen again. I am sorry," my utterances hold no remorse, no emotions, nothing. They were just words. My father walks over to me and clamps his hand on my robotic one. His knuckles go ghastly white as he squeezes his hand round it.

"I love you; I just care" he doesn't make eye contact with me when he says that. He hasn't since the accident and when he lets go and I notice there is a slight dent. It is moments like these where I am glad I don't feel pain there.

My mother approaches me next and caresses my cheek. The same cheek the mechanic did. However, her touch isn't as comforting. It's vacant and holds little warmth. She leans down and kisses my forehead and then follows my father into their room, the door closing shut behind them.

"Thanks for the help" I snap and hastily go into my room and lock the door behind me.

***

Every fiber of myself is tearing itself apart. The temporary numbness is soon overcome by a storm of emotions that begin to thunder and crash within me. My mind is going millions of miles an hour. It feels so right to be with the mechanic, to kiss her, to smile with her, to spout my words for her. But, that wasn't how humans go about relationships. That wasn't human of me to do, and if we were caught, I could have caused harm to both of us. Every emotion in humans is rational; there was no rationale behind what happened tonight. I am a cyborg; I know my feelings are more intense, more distinguishable, the surgeon told me this many years ago.

Being self-aware is an unfortunate form of consciousness, as I am constantly reminded by myself that I am a threat, I need to keep this inside, to hide it, hide from others. I can not let others know. But I want to let others know. I want to try to feel love as others have. To experience my emotions in all their entirety. I want to express my words to others instead of writing them down and keeping them to myself. I want to be worthy of love. Yet... I know I am not. I am not fully human, so I am not worthy of the full capacity of what love entails.

It all becomes too much, and the thunderous storm inside of me escapes, and I cry. I let myself cry. The constant thoughts of knowing that you don't even know yourself, not to be sure what is right or wrong, always to feel like you do everything wrong, and to be a burden on others. It presses on your chest, squeezes the life out of your body, and slowly suffocates you. To get a grasp on life once more, sometimes you need to release the sorrow that was building up inside. I let out a sob, my shoulders shaking, my chest releasing the aches it has held onto for so long. I let myself cry for the rest of the night. I allow the storm passes over, do its damage, and tear me down because I know when morning comes. It will be a new day. One that I can fix.