I think it was your assurance and pace. Either your own or matched to mine, but never so far that I felt cold. I started to feel cold tonight.
It’s strange, how the air is dense and unfiltered but the wind carries on smoothly pushing my feet against the cement. Squinting my eyes towards what’s left of today’s dose of sunshine I twist my fingers against the threads loose in my peach dress and continue to glide off the surface of the street. Absentmindedly I stare at my dog and his small movements. He is naturally perfect because he has no shame on his nature, he smells the grass and makes choices according to his senses. . . I ignore mine.
I ignore the pain in my heels and the nagging thoughts. Instead, I continue to observe my dog. It hits me then that I am stalling to go home. It’s the peace there is in being able to simply walk and turn away from the very place that unravels you. My home, this new house full of hopes, so full of promises that it can’t barely stand on its foundations without sighting of pain.  My promises are all I have.
I turn a corner only to stop abruptly and be faced with a giant. A giant brown and white Pitbull who pushes against his owner’s directions towards my small Chihuahua. A threat. Identified. I rush to pick up my dog and sprint towards home.
It’s not easy, the task of taking care of a living thing which has the ability to love and hurt. It’s a heavy responsibility but never a burden. Once I make it to my door and awkwardly fling it open I let my dog hurry to his small wooden home and smile towards my father who’s watching a game. Of course, game nights.
Game nights serve as some sort of assurance. That is, guaranteed peace. My father watches his games and my mother watches her novellas. I burn through time. I attempt to fill my time with chores, There’s no way for me to escape myself but there’s a way to slow my thoughts and that is to pretend that I’m a wizard. A witch who is casting a spell on herself. I cast my mouth shut and set an inner timer, it reminds me that the last grain of sand is about to fall. With my handy notepad I write out chores in order of importance and I do. I become my actions and my actions seem to keep those around me content. Comfortable at least.
When I see your messages in my screen, I smile. I feel settled. I am normally comfortable with my inner dialogue but with your existence in my life, there’s a certain magnetic pull. If I was sitting on a board in the middle of the unfathomable sea, I wouldn’t tip a single time, because gravity would keep me there. You become my gravity. And your pull is stronger than my own, so it steadies me. I no longer feel divided. I’m no longer split or shared between corners. Every part is unified.
Yet, you don’t fade. You simply disappear. Once I’m under a warm blanket, you jump out of the window with no anticipation and the fire just doesn’t last long enough for me to stay warm. I get cold. I wait for you. To center me. I am cold.
***
His message pops up on my laptop. A simple “Hey”.
“Idiot” she whispers to herself as she turns off the light and climbs to bed. She lays down, listening to her heart beat. How erratic. She gets up to turn on the fan and decides to look at the screen once again. That’s the thing about the message, it tugs on her. “Darn it!” she whispers a bit louder now. Carefully, she slips out of her bedroom to the back terrace. The alarm is not on yet. Good. Once again, she finds herself observing her dog. How he quickly responds to her presence. Its impatience to love her. She decides it is adorable and so for deserves a treat.
She sits down on the garden chairs, overlooking the nets full of flies. Good, another chore. Cleaning. A bitter smile slips of her lips, as she understands that feeling inside her gut. The twisting. Almost like someone decided to bend her entire nervous system out shape. No connections between the canals. No oxygen. Not enough for it to continue. Her body was on the same page as her conscience. It lacked elasticity.
If was then when the watch on her arm warned her that it was bedtime that she tapped the smart screen and shut down everything on her home. Making sure her parents were tucked in and the alarm on.
Once again, on her silent room she looked at the screen. A simple “Hey” demanded much more than the three letters quantified. She answered back, taking her time. “Hey you”. Her standard way of greeting, pretending she was there. That her place wasn’t vacant ad that her attendance was checked off. He replied three minutes later asking how she was. Many words made it to her tongue. A stream of thoughts trying to jump out of her mouth but only stuck out.
“I’m cold”. False. She wasn’t cold. In fact, her entire house felt like a toaster oven. Although, she felt a strange and odd distortion in her inner being. Her thoughts patterns were jumbled, almost like they were cramped. Making space for hope. Hope had a lot of “requests”. For one, if you were to live with her, you had to nurture her. Which turns out took out of strength. Yet, she did it. She aided herself that way. With one way she held herself up and with the other she held her galaxy. A galaxy full of fish out of the water and fallen stars. Marvelous.
It was almost magical. The way she carried herself, like she was making way for her tribe. Never alone, because she had hope and hope was enough.
Hope wasn’t him.
Five minutes later his reply arrived.  It said “What do you mean? It’s summer.”
Once again she climbed into her bed and lied on her side. Staring at her closed window. Wishing a star fell, so it would whisper its wisdoms to her. Her secrets. Her joys. Her sorrows. That’s why stars fell after all.
Inside her, there was an inner struggle. The struggle to provide and the struggle to take. Never take, always provide. Above all, look strong. At the very least, give yourself that. With that thought, with that declaration she replied “I know”
Shortly after he replied “why are you so distant?”.
How coincidental for him to appear out of the blue and ask the question she wanted to be asked. Yet, she didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to go under that blanket once more. To give herself false security. To give herself that would be to sign a contract with the devil. Tonight wasn’t the day. She would be damned before she accepted the bait.
Cheerfully enough she pushed a reply towards him. Shoving him away was the answer. So she typed “I’m not, I’m just directing my inner energies towards you in hopes that you will leave me alone.” Sent.
Quick response, almost too quick to be real.
“Ouch” and shortly after “You can talk to me.”
“Ugh go away” she replied without hesitation.
Tonight. She was more than cold. She was frigid. These summer cold summer nights where her damnation. For, it was in these nights that he slithered into her life. Carefully crafted and carved a space in her chest. She provided all the tools and this time. . . she didn’t. This time, she extinguished the fire and shivered all night and when morning came, she froze entirely. Bit by bit.
Sometimes a blanket is not enough. Sometimes consistency accounts more than words. Sometimes consistency becomes evident enough to be treated as much more than enough. It becomes gravity.