She has a secret.
He has enough charm to knock down her boundaries.
She can't reveal anything to anyone.
He can't help but want to know everything about her.
❀
Much against...
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It's two in the morning and I can't sleep.
After hitting my pillow for the third time, I take a deep breath, and settle for rolling onto my side, letting the cool breeze soothe my heated back. The white linen curtains whisper in anticipation. They are waiting for him too...
I am alone in the bedroom: so much so that my only company are my wandering thoughts. A trillion words flood my mind: like waves in the sea, they crash against my tired brain. My whole body hurts. With a grunt, I blame all the boxes I had to carry from the moving truck to this new house that doesn't feel like a home at all. A small, fleeting smile spreads across my face as I remember my little brother Tommy's shocked expression, along with my sister Brisa's nervous little jumps when they saw that truck parked in the driveway of our old house. They begged Mom and then convinced the driver to let them get behind the wheel. Especially Tommy: he always wants to appear more mature, when in reality he is a cuddly little mouse. My chest contracts thinking about how mom, despite the little money we have, wanted to invest it in leaving our old life behind.
All because of me...
It's because of me that Tommy and Brisa have to start from scratch in a new school.
It is because of me that our savings, the few we had, were reduced to a few cardboard boxes and a two-story house with mint-colored wooden windows.
My heartbeat quickens as I remember what my life was like before everything went to hell. It's a quarter past two in the morning and my mind is drifting once again... I think of wooden hearts: the kind that lovers carve out of the trunks of trees, when everything is rosy and the hope of a future together pours out of their souls. I think of chocolate hearts: the kind that hide behind the windows of a chocolate shop, waiting to be bought to achieve their goal: soften the edges of this complicated life with a tug on their colorful wrappers. None of that has ever happened to me. I have never engraved my name next to that of a boy I like, or been given a chocolate with the promise of a passionate kiss. Without being able to avoid it, I feel how the tears overflow my eyes and fall down my face, wetting the worn-out pillowcase. I would have given everything to live one of those moments.
One—nothing more.
I would have given everything to avoid a specific one that destroyed my life. My hands shake too much, so I support them on my chest intertwining my fingers and I think about my heart: under my nightgown, under my skin, and between my ribs, beating out of control. Injured. Pumping blood throughout my body. This body that has gained weight: so much that I don't recognize myself in the mirror.
My poor bones now carry a lot more "me" than before. Why you ask? Because of a specific heart. Two years ago, my father's heart exploded in his chest while he was driving home from work. After what happened, I started eating every box of cereal I could find in the pantry. Then I ate everything in the fridge, even the tube of butter. Yeah, I know, gross. Turns out, I tried to fill the enormous void of his absence with food. I was only fourteen years old, and I didn't know what else to do. Can you blame me?
