The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 39

I'm not too sure as to how long we stayed lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere, but I am keenly aware of just how far we are from the cities. There is no honking of horns; anger fueled arguments, crying children, dogs barking, or any other disturbances. It is only the mechanic and me, lying on the ground together encompassed in nature's stillness.

We don't make any conversations while we lay there, and so during this time, I let my thoughts wander. I think about the surgeon, the sacrifices they have made for me. How I never got to say thank you or to tell them just how much they mean to me. I hope they know that I love them. I never said it, but I loved them dearly. They say they learned to love from me, but I think I learned to love from them. I learned the messy side of love; like the fights that occur that end in tears and screaming, the doors slamming shut out of anger, the isolation, and internal frustration, and that although those times are distressing, they always diffuse because no matter what happens that person still loves you, and you still love them.

A memory is triggered in my mind, and the scene plays out as such; I am in my room crying because I wanted to hold someone's hand but knew I couldn't. The surgeon knocked three times, sat down on the opposite side of the door, and stayed there until I fell asleep. Sure they might not have come in or forced me to talk, but they were there for me in the only way they knew how to be. I then remember walking out of my room at the end and seeing a cupcake at the foot of my door. I almost stepped on it. A note was attached to it and I think I still have it somewhere. It read, "Be kind to yourself," and at the time, I hated the idea of that. Crumpled it up and tossed it in my drawer. But they couldn't have been more correct.

They told me that we are all made up of stardust, that we are all divinities taken mortal forms. We were created for a reason, to use our limitless potential given to us from the cosmos, to be a part of something greater than ourselves. I firmly believe this theory, for the surgeon, was a part of something greater than they could have ever known. And now, I shall continue their legacy and take my place alongside them. My limitless potential will not go to waste. I will make sure about it.

Then I think about my parents, how they tried but failed, how my father tried to connect with me on multiple occasions, but gave up because he didn't know how to cope with all of his emotions. How he used to bring me to baseball games to try to connect with me, but it ultimately ended with us not talking the whole time and him making sure my hand is never in sight. Him making sure I was never in sight. I think a part of him hates himself for not being able to love me. I think a part of myself hates him for that too.

My mother wasn't much better. She would try to care for me, make me dinner, wash me up after, comb through my hair at night, cuddle me. She tried, she really did. But dinner ended in her being exasperated I didn't eat it, washing me up made her angry because she hated the fact that water couldn't get inside my hand, combing through my hair meant she would have to see the minuscule scars that are usually hidden by my hairline, and cuddling me reminded her that I was not complete. It wasn't her fault that she doesn't understand the more contemporary lessons. However, I am aware that this is not normal, and she should have tried harder. I hate my mother, too, for not working when I did.

My mind shifts, and the mechanic comes into the picture; I remember when I asked her to be my girlfriend. We both were so obsessed with each other, and at the time, we weren't sure exactly what the reason for this was. We were on each other's mind always, when we were apart, it didn't feel right; it felt as if we had lost a part of ourselves, and we always wanted to talk to each other. We spent many nights staying up late and talking. We talked about everything and anything, and when no one had anything to say, and we just sent pictures back and forth, that spoke more than words would have. It meant that although neither of us had anything to say, we still wanted to be with each other. So when the time came to ask her to be my girlfriend, I prepared myself. I wrote a speech, practiced it, and when we met that evening, I was ready.

Funny enough, she wrote me a letter. I never go anywhere without it. When she first gave it to me, I cried, of course, but I had to regain my composure quickly as I had to deliver my speech. I spilled my heart and soul into that two-minute monologue, and in return, she said yes, and so did I. Ever since that day, I have been the happiest person in the world.

I admire how noble and righteous she is. From the very beginning, she was always there for me. Just her physical presence brought me joy. She never doubted my abilities; she never questioned my decisions; all she did was support me. She gave me unconditional support and love, and that is something no one has ever given to me before. How lucky am I to have met her. To be able to call her my girlfriend. To be able to call her mine.

I tune into her presence, tilting my head to the side to take in her beauty. She is so beautiful, inside and out.

I break the silence; I need to talk to her.

"Do you think I can lead a whole revolution?"

"If anyone could, it would be you," she props herself up on her forearms and locks eyes with me.

"First, you skipped three grades, didn't know that, but you're smart. Second, you are the most empathetic person I know. You know me better than I know myself. Third, you have a powerful way with words and speaking. You know just what to say and how. So yes, I think you do have what it takes to lead a revolution" she gives me the cocky grin I fell in love with so long ago.

"Do you think I can be a good cyborg doctor?" she scrunches up her brows in worry, and I take her hand. She flips our grasp and kisses my knuckles, my hand shifts in her hold, and my thumb rubs the inside of her wrist.

"You are capable of more than you are aware of. You are one of the hardest working and determined people I know. I have always respected you for your work ethic, loyalty, kind-heart, and intelligence. Those combined make for an all-around powerhouse. You, my dear," I grin and kiss her cheek.

"You are extraordinary, and I have my complete and utter faith in you" I give her a peck on the lips and provide a bubbly grin.

"I promise to be there for you every step of the way," I add.

"I promise too." I can tell she is about to cry, and she hides her face away in the crook of her armpit and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

She clears her throat, "So what should we do?" she questions and sits up straight.

"Now, I guess we go back to the group, get ourselves patched up, and take things one step at a time." I groan as my muscles and chest still ache from the events of the previous day.

I hold out my shining plated hand to the mechanic, and she doesn't hesitate to take it. I lift her to her feet, and then both of us stare at each other. No words need to be shared for us to express how we feel about each other. Sometimes all it takes is a shared smile, a subtle dimple showing, creases of the eyes becoming more prominent, and an airy laugh to know that someone loves you.

I take the lead as we start to embark on this journey together, my hand reaches behind, and her fingers lace themselves in the empty spaces.

"Will you love me forever?" I hear her faint voice from behind me. I stop in my tracks and pivot on my tiptoes.

"I promise to love you forever," I sternly replied.

"Forever?-"

"Forever.-"

"Will you always love me?" her eyes search mine, and I give her the most prominent and brightest smile I could muster.

"I will always love you," I reassure.

"Forever and always?"

"Forever and always."

The End...