Alone

Chapter: 21 // out of the black •

Dear diary,

The search for Henry ended last night, and contrary to Ron's, it had a happy ending. I don't mean to sound embittered. I'm happy that they found him. He's the last piece of Benjamin that I have left, the last physical piece, anyway. Rick and Morgan return bloodied and fatigued, needless to say what happened with the POW's who escaped the other day. I'm jotting this down on the sofa in Siddiq's trailer, which is surprisingly comfortable.

He's asleep in his own bed, a side sleeper. Left side. Every now and then his chest rises and falls with each inhale and exhale, and he'll push his head deeper into his pillow and shift his feet. It's little things like this that I wonder if anyone notices about myself. I couldn't go back up there alone. He made up the sofa for me. It was nonegotiable, at that point. I figured in the morning I'd take responsibility for everything, tell Jesus I told him to lie for me. I shouldn't have kissed him. I was comfortable with him, he understood me and there's only two other people who do and one is dead.

A lot of people know me, but few understand me. It wasn't love, it wasn't lust, it was just an irresistible impulse, the same irresistible impulse that brought me to Alexandria to see Carl. I don't know why he kissed me back.
I told him about my Jesus that night, how me met, how our souls did, and how it was never the same after he and I left Hilltop, after I was shot in Alexandria. I told him how we're no longer one, but two. He was quiet, and that scared me, but no more than it scared him, I think, to be at a loss for words, the man whose wisdom was his best quality. He finally asked me to tell him about me. There wasn't much to tell, other than my becoming an orphan, than my losing people I loved, other than the pieces of me that died when they did too. He looked at me with the same concern and growing affection that he did in the infirmary when he took my hands and suggested that he say a prayer of healing for me, and I had bowed my head with him and closed my eyes as he did.

Today is the first morning without Ron. I say the first because even though he died yesterday morning, I didn't physically feel his presence leave until right now. There's been about twenty-one mornings without him since he disappeared when the Saviors came down on Alexandria four weeks and after today, a day ago. But this is the only one that really matters. Because he's gone. Today is the first everything without Ron. It's evident that no one else here shares my sympathy for him. Not even Enid. They might not have been on the best terms when he was alive, but there was a time when they were, and that should be more important than when they weren't.

Jesus is Paul Rovia again, and as much as he'd like to speculate, it has zero to do with Ron or why I was in Siddiq's trailer last night. He pretends to know the extent of which I cared for Ron and embraces me, but that's the thing; he's just pretending. He doesn't know he is, but he is. I confess that I was in Siddiq's trailer last night because I couldn't sleep in my room after Ron, that I told him to lie. He says that I could've told him, that he would've understood. He's wrong, he never does.

Siddiq and I barely spare each other a passing glance all morning, the awkwardness of last night is still fresh and so is his mouth on my mouth. He tasted like oregano tea and hope. I probably tasted like oregano tea and despair. To make matters worse, I left my diary in Siddiq's trailer on his green sofa. I was in such a hurry to leave, this morning that I must've forgotten it. I draw the inference that he must be in the infirmary, as he's nowhere to be found amongst the other civilians. Therefore, I proceed towards his trailer with my head down, lest I draw any suspicion. I pull the door open, step inside, and quickly turn around and shut it behind me--behind me is him.

"Hi." He says softly, as if I'm going to break. That's what I hate about when people die, other than death itself, is people treat you like glass. I'm too embarrassed to turn around and too proud to keep my back to him.