Ubiquitous

She Left

A short-lived romance.

xxxxx

She would entwine her fingers with mine. My tattooed, long fingers contrasted her small and stubby ones. She's always hated them, but I've never failed to tell her that they're adorable as hell.

They are, though. Like fish fingers.

She would get so engrossed when she was drawing. About 7 of my tattoos are designed by her. There's one of a pair of wolves, which is to symbolise us. Then there's the pirate ship, a skull and my favourite of them all, a cat. I can't remember the others, but I love them all.

She would swing around on the chair beside mine at the shop. While the tattoo artist works on me, she would look and cringe once in a while. She never had a tattoo, but she loved them. I was her canvas.

Our height difference had always been one of the reasons I love her. She's incredibly short, probably about a feet from me. She embraced her Asian roots, using it as an excuse. I liked it because she would wear the highest heels and still wouldn't be as tall as my chin. But she didn't mind, because she could hear my heart beat when she hugged me.

I miss her hugs.

Her lips are thin. She used to say they're the only thin part of her. I would then convince her that curvy is the way to go, in which she would agree. I love how she wouldn't deny compliments. She said it was because she didn't get much anyways. I made it a point to remind her how pretty she is everyday.

She would hug me every night when we go to sleep. Her head on the crook of my shoulder and my arm wrapped around her. That's how it's always been. In the morning, her wild sleeping stunts would end up with her consuming most of the space. I would be curled up in a ball by the edge of the bed. Even now, when her spot is vacant, I still wake up curled like a ball.

I always sit with my legs open wide and she would sit in between them. I liked to wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head on her shoulder. She used to giggle when I kiss her neck. She said it tickled so badly. I would kiss her cheeks, which in turn made her blush madly.

"Can you not?" she would say.

"I can't." I would reply.

She would sit beside me and watch me sleep when she couldn't sleep. She used to touch the tattoos on my bare chest and end up falling asleep on them. She thought I never noticed this habit of hers. I was awake. 

She didn't smoke, and I tried my best not to smoke around her. She never minded it, but I was always worried about her. She used to steal my lighter sometimes. I would be looking for it with the unlit cigarette between my lips and she would light it up for me out of nowhere. Like an angel with fire, she was.

But I didn't have her for long.

The way she went away still baffles me. It was so calm and relaxed. It was a beautiful way to go. Too beautiful. 

I never saw it coming.

I woke up with her head still on the crook of my shoulder and her hand across my shirtless body. I raised my eyebrows, thinking about how weird it was that she didn't twist and turn in her sleep as usual. I pulled a strand of hair away from her face and was startled at how cold her skin feels. I touched her hand and it was freezing. 

I called her name. She didn't even flinch. I repeated it a few times, hoping she would at least tell me to shut up. But there was no movement. I shook her lightly, in which she didn't open her eyes with annoyance, like she used to. I shook her shoulder harder and harder.

I moved away from my spot and sat beside her, just staring at her body. My eyes started brimming with tears I couldn't control. I called her name again and again, softer and softer. I thought she would open one eye and laugh at this prank. But she didn't. 

I buried my face in her stomach, hoping her shirt could soak my tears. I looked up again and noticed how pale she looked. It's an image I wish never existed. 

I called her name one last time and I remember how my voice cracked. My heart was beating so fast and I wished it was only a dream. I wished I would wake up with her smiling at me. I still wish that. If it is so, this has been a long nightmare. 

I ran a hand through my hair, digesting the information. She still lied there, motionless. Dead.

She was dead.

On our bed.

Beside me.

I didn't even get to say good bye.

She went without a warning. Without a notice.

She left me all alone in this bed.

She left me.

Sometimes I do see her. I see her drawing on the bed. I see her dancing to the theme song of that favourite show of hers. I see her sitting between my legs. But she won't say a word. And I would cry. And people would be giving me hugs. 

Wherever she is, she should've brought me along. 

Please come back, I would whisper at her tombstone. 

But she won't answer me.

copyright  © 2013 jeefberky