I remembered the first time I saw him on the bus and wondered if one of the sketches in front of me now was the one I'd seen him working on with such fervor all that time ago. I also wondered, briefly, what I would have thought if someone had told me that day that, a little more than a month from then, I'd be sitting in that same boy's room, getting a first-hand look at his art instead of admiring his commitment from across a bus.
I tentatively chose to sit on his bed. It was covered in a black and red comforter, plain enough to look masculine, but not plain enough to look like it was devoid of all personality. It was also made up, adding an appearance of tidiness that contrasted with the wall of pinned sketches haphazardly arranged nearby.
Austin sat beside me, kicking off his shoes and crossing his legs as he scooted back on the bed. He wriggled free of his zip-up jacket, letting it drape in a bunch behind him, and I noticed the tattoos on his arms again. I'd almost completely forgotten about them. Hunching forward, he gazed intently at me, raising his eyebrows with earnest interest.
“So...we're here. Tell me everything.”
***
I told Austin everything I knew. I told him when my memory problems began, and told him when we moved and when I'd started seeing therapists. I told him that I was always around during the day because I dropped out of high school at the start of this semester because I couldn't handle the anxiety. As my hands and body shook, my skin cold to the touch, I told him about the crippling amount of anxiety I'd felt all day in anticipation of seeing him. And, of course, I told him that I'd recently found out I was institutionalized for a three-day psychological evaluation after I tried to commit suicide a couple years ago.
I curled my knees into a ball in front of me, forgetting that my boots were still on my feet and feeling like an idiot as I hastily kicked them off, fearful of getting snow and dirt on Austin's clean, tidy bed. My arms clutched around my legs, and my eyes had transformed into large saucers focusing on nothing in particular, but especially not on his face as I relayed this last part to him. My eyes had no tears to spill, even if I'd let my guard down enough to want them to. My veins had turned to ice—there was no turning back now. There was only me, my dysfunctional story, this beautiful person beside me, and the unrelenting silence that surrounded us in his room.
It seemed like an eternity before Austin's voice gently broke the silence. He spoke quietly, again as if something unseen would overhear our conversation.
“Well, that's not so bad,” he said.
His answer took me by complete surprise, and I raised my eyebrows at him. Not so bad? “Are you being serious?”
“Of course I am,” he insisted. I reddened—did I actually say that out loud?
“When I was in high school, I had a friend who tried to kill herself, too,” Austin continued, either not noticing or just plain ignoring the way I curled tighter into a ball. “She had a really bad home life...her dad was an abusive alcoholic, and sometimes she'd come to school with bruises on her arms or face—it was bad.”
“That sounds horrible,” I said in a voice just above a whisper. I looked at him; his face softened, and his eyes sparkled with sympathy as he recounted his story.
“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. Then his eyes lit up. “But you know what? Even though she had to go through that, she ended up being alright. I'm guessing she did some counseling maybe, something like that, but either way....I haven't talked to her in a couple months, but last I knew, she was in her second year of college on a scholarship, and she had just gotten engaged.”
“Oh...well, good for her.” I meant to be genuine, but somehow it still ended up sounding hollow. Austin noticed and put his hand lightly over mine, bringing himself closer.
“The reason I'm telling you this, Jade, is that it was a part of her past, but not who she is now. This thing that happened to you—it's part of your past too, right? It doesn't mean that it'll become your future. We all make mistakes...trust me.”
I got lost in his soothing gaze for a moment before I lifted my head up to his ceiling. I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn't help but fight him on it every step of the way. It was as if all the pent up feelings responsible for my last outburst had rubbed off straight into my first attempts at having a social life.
“Oh really? Well...what have you got then?” I turned back to face him. I hated that I sounded so combative, but I was also curious about what wrongs he'd committed himself. Someone like Austin didn't even seem capable of making mistakes. Was I really ready to know?
Austin didn't wait long to respond. “Well, let's see...” he began, resting a large hand against his chin. It was shapely like a man's chin, but was mostly smooth aside from the faint hint of a shadow across his jawline.
He hung his head solemnly. “One time, I decided that my sisters would look better bald, so when I was young, I used an electric shaver to take their hair off in their sleep.”
I leaned back, both surprised and appalled. “Really?”
He looked up through tresses of his dark hair, the green flecks in his eyes glinting with mischief. “No, not really...that would have been great though.” He grinned playfully at me, and I shoved him.
“Unbelievable...maybe your fault is you're a pathological joker or something.”
Austin smiled again, reigning in his white teeth and looking down into his lap. He chuckled, then shook his head. “But really...I uh, had a bit of a temper when I was a kid. I went to therapy too to put it in check. One time I got so mad at a kid, I broke his arm with a chair, just for pushing me and making me fall down before class. The worst part is, I blacked out and I don't remember ever doing it. I was just told I did that that when I got suspended.”
I realized Austin was serious now, and I leaned in closer to hear him. He paused, reluctant to continue.
“After all the craziness I've unloaded on you, don't tell me you're uncomfortable unloading on me?”
Austin smiled wryly at me. “I guess you have a point...you've been pretty honest with me.”
He looked down again, fidgeting with his hands as I often did. With a sigh, he decided to continue. “When my dad decided he didn't want to be around anymore, I kind of became the man of the house. The only problem with that is, when you're the youngest person in said house, that's a lot of pressure. I resented him for the position he put my family in, but most of all the position he put me in.
I was only ten when he left. Ten year-olds are supposed to be having fun outside with their friends, watching TV and eating tons of junk food—not wondering where our next meal is coming from and asking my mom what I could do to keep her hair from turning gray so fast.”
For a moment, my own problems vanished in the mix of sadness and anger that washed across Austin's handsome features.
“I was under a lot of stress, I guess you could say...but who was I going to talk to about it? Mom had it way worse than me, and my sisters did too. They both had jobs and were trying to support everyone while still going to high school. So I got...mad. A lot. I didn't need a reason, but if someone gave me one, you bet I took advantage of it and went full-force on them. When that happened, I'd get so mad that I would black out and not even remember what I'd done—or who I hurt.”
Austin finally looked up at me and shrugged his shoulders. “So, that's a little bit about me. It took a lot of work to get past it, and sometimes I still feel like it's lurking under the surface. It's scary sometimes. But I do sympathize with you that not being able to remember something important is a terrible thing.”
I looked up at him with a new perspective and appreciation, still clutching my knees to my chest. I nodded in agreement. “It really does. Austin, I don't even remember why I wanted to kill myself. Ms. Orowitz—she's my therapist—or was. I don't know, it's a long story. But she diagnosed me yesterday with post-traumatic stress disorder.”
Austin straightened up, his head tilting to the side. “Was your therapist?”
I looked down, the guilt of t
he situation washing over me anew. “I...I kind of exploded on her, told her I wasn't coming back. I actually said I wasn't going to do therapy at all anymore.” I shuffled uncomfortably.
“Exploded? It's really hard for me to picture that.” Austin smirked. “I think it would be interesting.”
“Oh, it was terrible,” I said, widening my arms away from my body for effect. “It's like I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth. It's just...she tells me how much progress I made, then diagnoses me and tells me there isn't much more she can do than what we've already been doing, and it makes it feel like I've made no progress at all. And...” I paused. And she thought you were too much for me. The heat of anger rose again in my throat at the thought, but I shoved it aside. “It's just been such a process trying to remember my past by myself. It's harder than anything I can remember doing...not like that says much.”
For the first time since I'd known him, Austin looked weary. He seemed weary for me. His green eyes mirrored my own feelings of frustration and sadness, and in that moment, I felt more connected to him than I had to anyone else, even my mother, in a very long time. He placed his hand over mine again, reassuring me with a squeeze.
“Jade, I had no idea you were going through all this...but I'm so glad you told me. I wish there was some way I could help.”
I felt a smile creeping over my face, and I looked away. “Oh, you've already helped me, more than you know.”
Austin sat up taller beside me, bolstered by the comment I'd almost kept to myself. “Really?”
“Really.”
The room became silent again, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Our thoughts thickened the air as we both muddled through what we'd learned about each other. Though it was hard to judge what the content and pensive look on Austin's face meant, my head was swimming with all the times that Austin had chosen to talk to me, even when I was just some weird, antisocial girl who happened to be in the same rec center class as he was. I thought of all the conversations, and of how quickly my memories had been coming back since I'd met him. I knew some of my success was certainly due to my newfound journalling hobby—but I also knew much of it probably had to do with Austin himself.
Then I thought about how much I'd like to kiss him again. My heart leapt into my throat as I thought about how badly I wanted him to know how I felt about him, even as my stomach churned at the thought. Honesty is almost always the best policy, Ms. Orowitz had said...
“I have something else I want to tell you.” I finally broke the silence.
“You can tell me anything.”
I took a deep breath—it was now or never. Here it goes.
“Okay. Well...the first day I met you, in our painting class...I'd already known who you were.”
“You did?” Austin looked as if I were the one telling jokes now. He didn't understand, but he would.
“I saw you on the bus one day when I was bringing home some groceries for my mom. You were sketching in your book, and I thought it was just so fascinating how you got so lost in what you were doing. Honestly...” --there was that word again, I thought. I struggled with the lump in my throat and to control the heat in my face. “Honestly, I was a little jealous, because that used to be me being so into creating something. You know, before I started to forget things.
That day, I bought some paintbrushes from the store too, even though it had been forever since I'd really tried to paint anything. I didn't even want to use them...looking at them kind of made me feel like a failure, actually,” I admitted. “They reminded me of how long it had been since I gave up on something I loved.”
“I know the feeling,” Austin agreed gently.
“But here you were, an animated person full of creative energy in a bus full of zombies who didn't even know why they existed anymore. And it...you inspired me.” I looked down again—it was so much easier to talk to him when I wasn't looking at him. It was so easy talking to him in the painting class because for the first couple hours of our friendship, I hadn't gotten a chance to really look at him. I didn't get the opportunity to see the sincerity and kindness in Austin's face.
“I owed it to the brushes to paint because—I mean, why buy them and not use them? But I owe it to you that I actually did it. I don't think I would have wanted to paint if I hadn't seen you that day.”
Austin's warm smile lit up the entire room.
“Getting back into it made my mom bring up the painting class, and the way I feel when I'm creating something—like I actually belong on this planet—is what made me agree to go. But you're the reason that I stuck with it.” My words were coming faster, like water flowing through a creek. “And actually getting to talk to you...let's face it, you're great. You're the reason I was able to commit myself to something and create something I could say I was proud of.
And it's even more than that...since I've met you, the memories I've long since locked away have been coming easier and easier to me. I think...I think it's because I feel good when I'm with you. I feel like I'm not just some hopeless nutcase with no future. I actually feel...” I searched for the right word.
“Happy?” Austin whispered.
I hadn't realized how close he had gotten to me as I spoke; now his entire body was turned to face me, and his leg rested against mine.
“Yeah...happy.”
This time, I summoned the courage to look at him—really look at him. I examined the perfect smoothness of his caramel-colored skin, peppered with shadow on his jawline, the way that his dark hair rested so becomingly across his forehead and curled around his ears, how his eyes reflected my emotions...
“One of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder is dissociation, which means it's hard for me to feel...present, I guess. It feels like I'm just watching the world from inside my own glass box, like I'm in a separate universe.” My voice was quiet, and I spoke deliberately. I didn't want to mess this up. “There are a couple things that bring be back to earth and make me feel like I belong here...painting is one of them, and I don't know if you knew this about me, but nature is another. And now, there's you. With you, I belong in this world...I'm a part of it. And that's the most wonderful, most helpful thing that anyone could ever do for me.”
I did my best to stay “present” for this conversation, but the whole thing was surreal, and I felt as thought I were floating. I was an invisible body of energy filled with anxiety, terror, and...love. I knew there was no other way to describe it, and this realization just pushed me further into Austin's comforting glow.
“I'm ready to trust you. For everything you've done for me, it's the least that you deserve. I'd give you so much more if I could...maybe someday I will. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to trust you sooner--”
Austin's pressed his finger to my lips, sending an electric wave through my skin. His eyes were filled with a burning sincerity that bordered on something else, something I couldn't quite discern. Desire.
“Jade, what you just said to me is the best apology you could have ever given me.”
Slowly moving his hand down in front of him, Austin hoisted himself onto his knees so he kneeled beside me on the bed. I brushed my fingers over my lips where he had just touched them.
“You know that I love you, right?”
I almost thought I didn't hear him right. When Ms. Orowitz had asked, out loud, if I loved this boy, it made the idea seem more real. But in Austin's voice, on his lips, it was as real a thing as it could ever be.
“I--”
“I love every facet of you...even the ones you haven't quite figured out yet. I love that you have such a funny, creative spirit hiding inside the tough shell you tried to get me to believe was really you. I love that you have such a...strength--” Austin said the word profoundly--“to go through what you're going through, and still be this amazingly talented, smart, and funny girl.
You know,” he continued, his face so close to mine that our noses nearly touched, “It probably seems like your buried memories are like a
kaleidoscope of fragmented pieces that paint a picture that seems chaotic and uncontrolled. But you know, they have a perfect design, and so do you. You just can't see all the details yet.”
Wow, now he's a poet too? Austin's eyes pooled with emotion in front of me, pulling me in as I whirled in their depth. It was out of my control. I was sinking into them, but I also felt like I was flying. I was still the invisible girl, floating over this scene and grasping for a body to experience its beauty.
“The way you make me feel is just...it's...”
Then Austin kissed me. It was a passionate kiss that was so much different than the first tender, yet hesitant one he'd given me before.
I no longer felt like I was watching him from a separate world—his kiss pulled abruptly into the moment and sent electricity jolting through every nerve in my body. The static threatening to take over my brain not so long ago—though how long ago? I don't even remember—had disappeared completely and was replaced by a smoldering fire that threatened to take over my entire body. I returned his kiss, pressing my face into his. I felt his lips part and his tongue grazed lightly between mine.
With all of my willpower I pulled away, not daring to open my eyes. “I've never done this before,” I whispered. “Kissing someone like this, I mean...or...well, any of it I guess.”
Austin pressed his forehead against mine, pushing me backwards and placing one arm beside me so his chest was a mere inches from mine. His breath was faster now.
“It's okay...there are no rules,” he whispered. His teeth snuck out from behind his plush lips for a quick grin. “Do whatever feels right. I trust you.” I didn't have a chance to think about what that meant before he kissed me again, its fire extinguishing any logic from my mind.
I parted my lips, and the exploration of a lifetime began. I explored the world that existed in his eyes when he looked me. And, I explored the completely foreign concept of how passionate a kiss could really be as I allowed Austin's tongue to explore my mouth. It felt so awkward at first. I was aware that someone as beautiful as him had likely gained plenty of experience in mouth exploration, and the closest experience I had was licking yogurt off the inside of the container. He guided me with his movements, swirling his tongue around mine until we acquired a rhythm, and I melted into him.
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