by Sarah Buhl
At her last confession a veil went back up over here eyes in an instant. Her carefree memories now hid behind that veil and I wanted to bring them out again.
“I want to read something of yours sometime.” I hoped that my confession opened the door for her walls to drop again.
She looked at my arms and her eyes jumped to my neck. “I doubt if you read what I write.” She looked away shyly.
“How do you know?” I sat up and ran my hand over my chest, trying to show pride. “I read a variety of books. I even finished the one you read the other day in Petra’s shop, the chaos one.”
She gave me a shocked expression. “Really? Why?”
I scoffed at her response, “Why did I read it? Well because I wanted to know what had you so enraptured.” I looked away from her in embarrassment. “I figured if it was something that kept your mind occupied, it must be intriguing.”
She gave a light shove to my shoulder as she ate the last bite of her cone. “Is there more in the box?” she asked and avoided my declaration to her as if my observation made her uncomfortable.
“Yes, there's one left. You can have it.” I pushed the box toward her and she took the last one out with a smile.
“Is he going to be pissed?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes, “The man is the definition of a big kid, of course he's going to be pissed.” I laughed as she opened the package with a grin.
Inadequacy filled me as I tried to decipher why she didn’t want to speak further on me being intrigued by her choice of book. I thought every girl wanted nothing more than to talk about herself. Her avoidance of it left me at a loss. So I decided to give her another one.
“You’re different, Hannah. I like that you’re different. You have your walls, but you don’t put on an act. I like your honesty.” I looked down as I felt unsure of myself and my statement.
She kept her eyes adverted from me as she finished her cone before she finally spoke. “I have facades and walls, Wynn. But they aren’t strong enough for you. You see right through them and I find myself too weak to keep them up against you.”
Then as if she hadn’t spoken those words, “What time is it?” she asked as she grabbed her phone from her purse. “Shit. I have to get going. I'm supposed to help Petra with a few things tonight.”
I stood and picked the box up from the table to throw away and was thankful for the distance between us. My body was tense around her, not from my fears, but from the need to hold her. “I can drop you there,” I said instead of what I wanted to say. I wanted her to stay with me. I wanted to continue talking with her and find out what makes her feel alive. My hand changed when she took it in the cafe yesterday and I couldn’t go back to the old Wynn. But I also felt as though I were stuck to the ground and couldn’t move forward, without knowing who Hannah Anderson was.
She turned toward the door and paused in mid-step, turning back to me. Without hesitation she pulled me into a hug. She rested her head on my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I lifted my hand to her upper back and my joints felt as though I couldn’t move them. I let my hand rest on her head and felt her hair as it rested on my shoulder. I ran my hand down her hair and breathed in the scent that attached itself to my clothes yesterday. “Thank you for this, Wynn,” she said as she squeezed my sides for a moment before releasing me and I kept my arms around her.
I lifted my hands from her back with reluctance as I chased the anticipation she created in me. “These last two days with you have been extra-ordinary,” she said the last word as if it were two words and not one. That alone made me want to keep holding her.
She stepped away and a sickness filled me as flashes of my mother attacked me. Hannah was pure and real, my mother was neither. My mom was strong and her sneer filled my thoughts every time I felt some semblance of joy these last two days. She ran from my mind when I was close to Hannah. I should be thanking Hannah, not her me, but instead I let my awkwardness overpower me and watched her walk away.
When we arrived at Petra’s shop, I gave Hannah a quick hug as she thanked me for the ride before running into the store. Petra exited at the same moment and walked toward me with a sly smile. I put my helmet on and climbed back on my bike, avoiding eye contact as she stood next to me. I loved Petra, but I couldn't handle her prying right now.
“Wynn, Wynn, Wynn. I told you,” she said as she put her hand on my forearm and I felt the scratch of her dry finger pads from years of turning pages in books.
“Yes, Petra, you told me.” I turned from her in hopes that she didn’t notice my apprehension at talking about Hannah. “I see you gave up on your cane gimmick.” I pointed at her hand, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation.
She laughed and brought her hands to her waist. “Yes, no one was buying it. I’m glad you chose to speak to Hannah instead of lurking.”
“Yeah, she was in my drawing class yesterday, modeling.” I looked back toward Hannah as I counted my fingers to try to stay calm and keep my thoughts to myself. I couldn’t share my thoughts before I sorted them myself.
“Modeling? Oh yes, she told me of her other job.” Petra’s eyes grew wide as realization hit. “So was she—you know?” She smiled with a wink.
“Yes, Petra, she was.” I didn’t want to have this conversation with her.
“You’re blushing, Wynn,” she said, her smile growing wider.
“Yes, I am blushing. It happens when your thoughts are drawn to someone you are attracted to being naked. It’s a biological reaction, so don’t think more of it. Blushing doesn't mean happily ever after, Petra. Plus I don’t believe she feels the same way, so I need to tone it down a little.”
“Oh shut it. Stop your self-depreciating bullshit.” She no longer smiled as she scowled at me.
My head jerked back at the language she chose to use and I laughed at her change in demeanor. “I have never heard you swear, Petra.”
“I always save them for such times as this. See, I now have your attention, before you couldn't look me in the eye.” She put her hands on either one of my cheeks. “Wynn, both of you need to figure your shit out.”
“How do you know these things?” I let out a quiet laugh at her abrasiveness.
“I have my means.” She tapped the side of her nose and pointed at me. “There is something here and you shouldn’t fuck with it.” She pushed her long salt and pepper hair off her shoulders and set her reading glasses atop her head. “Just let it go its way, my boy, you can do this. Have faith in the universe. Don't over analyze what it has given you.”
She kissed both of my cheeks before smiling and returning to her store. I watched her walk in and take Hannah into a hug. Petra could not go five minutes into a conversation without touching someone. She had the presence of someone from another country, not a woman who lived most her life in the States. I assume it had something to do with the traditional ways of her family. She told me once that it was different in Europe, with the gypsies in particular. Personal space was nonexistent. She learned that from the years she spent there in her youth.
When I made it home I felt the welcome relief that one gets after being away for a while. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and I was free to explore my own thoughts and emotions unobstructed. I needed to shut the world out and live in my thoughts for the rest of the evening. I stared out my window as I sat on my couch recalling my day.
I liked Hannah, but being around her brought so many thoughts of my mother. It was as if I couldn't be near her without having feelings flood me of inadequacy and fear. After an hour on my own with these thoughts I called the one person capable of understanding my annoyance.
Two rings and Stinson answered. “Wynn. Why are you calling?”
“Well, I went on two dates with the girl. I want to see her again, but I can’t.”
He sighed in annoyance, but I knew he wanted nothing more than to see me grow. “Why can’t you?”
“I can’t handle this push and pull inside me.
I want to be able to let go and run with my emotions. But I need to process everything before I get carried away. I’m losing control. She is this constant presence there between us. I can block her out part of the time, but she rears her head and I can see her scowl at me. She was nowhere to be found though when Hannah and I held hands.”
“Woah, you held hands? That’s awesome, man. I’m proud of you. But remember emotions are fickle things, but you can’t avoid them. As much as you might try, they can never be fully avoided. That’s part of making your thoughts your bitch. You have to make your emotions your bitch too. Don’t let fickle things ruin your life.”
I laughed. “Did you just tell me that my emotions could ruin my life?”
"Yes, I did. You may think you are controlling them by avoiding them, but you have to evaluate emotions, don't let them run away from you. You can’t let them rule you. I’m proud of you for taking such a big step with her. Why do you think your mother left your thoughts when you held Hannah's hand?”
“I thought about that, actually.” I smiled. “I fought with myself all day to touch her. I touched her lower back, but when it came time to take her hand, I counted my fingers to calm myself and I did it. And when I did, I could breathe. This weight on my shoulders lifted from holding her hand. It was the first time I felt connected and understood. It scared the fuck out of me, because I felt so full in that moment. When we let go of each other's hands, an insane pressure weighed on me and that fullness I experienced felt like it could pull me to the ground. Those few minutes were a dream and I faced the truth that I could never be enough."
“You have more going for you than that. You need to process it. You will get the hang of it. Take time to think, but not too much. Don't leave the girl hanging. Remember, she may have as much crap going on as you and don't assume she has her shit together. Everyone has issues, but the trick is letting the right one in to see your issues.”
"I’m not sure if she wants more from me though."
"Wynn,” Stinson said in a stern tone.
"Yeah?" I asked with the determined tone I did years ago when I first started meeting with him.
"Shut the fuck up.” He laughed as he ended the call. To most people they may wonder why my doctor told me to shut the fuck up and it didn't bother me. It works for me. I don't want to be toyed with and coddled. I needed truth and a good figurative smack to the head.
I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and lay on my mattress. Process it. It could be compared to processing film the old-fashioned way. With digital film, you download your images, open your photo editing program and begin the process. The old way, you took the time to develop the film. Each individual image was exposed and processed on its own. Expose the image onto the paper, run the paper through the chemical cycle of developing. If there were something to adjust, it took more time than a few clicks of your mouse. Processing takes time.
12
Hannah
It had been three weeks since I saw Wynn. Holding each other’s hand was as far as it went with us physically, but it was the most intimate and intense few hours of my life. Every one of my experiences with men joined couldn’t compare to those moments with him. At the end of that wonderful day together, he dropped me at work and that was the last I saw him.
Those two days held more life than the others combined and made the emptiness of every other day more vast and consuming. In a way, I saw them as the best punishment for me. The freedom I felt that day is replaced with an empty eroding ache. What better way to punish myself than to flaunt what I cannot have in front of me?
I didn’t seek him out or try to contact him and I hadn’t seen him in the bookshop either. Petra knew of my dates with him and she asked me to tell her the details. I told her as much as I knew—that I found him interesting and wondered how he was. Petra gave me sad smiles as if she saw something more that I was missing.
The positive from not hearing from him was that my numbers continued to increase. The experiences gnawed away the pain with blunt teeth and left the constant numbness in their wake. I preferred the numbness. Hollow and icy is more pleasant than my pain and guilt.
Gabe and Maggie asked me to go out with them several times and they even brought the party to me. I always closed myself off from them though, shutting my door and opening a book. I left the apartment to work and to meet someone, but otherwise the four walls were all that existed. Days turned into weeks without notice and I fell into a routine. Figure modeling, bookstore, numbers, bookstore, numbers, figure modeling, and at last sleep met me in between the moments.
I hadn’t slept much last night and I tried to focus on the task at work today. Petra decided the Chick Porn section needed moved closer to the Horror section, so I found myself dusting and moving books that I moved two weeks prior. I wore my ear buds to try to drown out the world, even though it was a slow day in the store. Today was the official day. As official as it could be, I suppose. Two years ago today, my sister took her own life. Every one of those days lost with her was a weight pulling me to the bottom of the ocean.
There was a tap on my shoulder and removing my ear buds I turned to try to give the invader of my thoughts a cordial expression. I hit pause on my player and saw the tattooed arms that haunted me for the last few weeks. Attached to those arms were the hands that once held mine with a gentleness that shattered me.
I tried to display happiness as I met Wynn’s eyes. We stood there for several seconds without a word. Tears began to form, because it hurt to look at him. It hurt because I realized, I missed him. I spent two days with him, and I missed him.
“I need to talk to you,” he said in a hushed voice. He needs to talk to me. His perseverance despite his nervousness showed how much he meant his words. He was opening himself to me and though it foreign to him, he was doing it. I was not fit for that part of him, because I was so damned scared to open to him in return.
“Sure, what do you need?” I tried to sound as if my conflicting emotions weren’t pulling me apart.
He took my wrist leading me farther through the store and up the stairs to the balcony. He didn’t know what was going on with me today, but by him grabbing my wrist with my tattoo on it, the tears fought to be freed from my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to open myself to him, but his grip on that word on my wrist was a painful reminder that I couldn’t.
We stopped in the banned books section, hidden from the rest of the store. He stepped close enough that our knees touched. I was unsure what he had in mind, and I hoped he was as the others and wanted a quick screw so I could get him out of my thoughts. He could be a number—forgotten.
“I have a confession and I am going to jump right into it. My mind races with moments we shared the other day that trigger more thoughts and I can't stop the constant bombardment. I’m ashamed that my fears and ideas of inadequacy kept me from calling or texting you.” He looked at my hands as I leaned back against the bookshelf. Was he thinking of my touch as I kept repeating the motion over and again in my mind? I continued to touch my hand for days after the moments we shared at the Böhme.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked without judgment.
“I wanted to, but I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m not sure what normal is and I’m not used to…” he looked toward the stairs, “talking to people and making plans. I keep to myself and I know that sounds crazy, but I'm not a people person. But you know that. But that fact makes it difficult to be close with others.”
I had to laugh as he spoke. “I'm not either.”
He gave me a shocked expression. “I can’t believe that. The way you spoke of strangers opening up to you, sounds like a people person to me.” He raised his eyebrows and looked to the wall as if in shame as he compared our differences.
“I hate bullshitters. Those strangers weren't bullshitters, so when I was with them I was a people person.” He gave me questioning eyes filled with trust, but I wasn't comfortable giving him my answers. I couldn't tell him why I closed myself off from
people.
“Can I tell you something?” I nodded to encourage him to continue. “I want to be with you and I'm out of my comfort zone,” he said as he turned away from me and ran his hands through his hair. “God that sounded better in my head.” His hair had grown longer in the weeks since I saw him last. It suited him as he ran his hands through it and pulled it away from his face. He pulled it back with fists, as if the motion could direct him to the right words.
“No, it sounds perfect. I understand, because it's the same for me.” I stepped away from the shelf and it brought us closer together. I was treading close to breaking a promise as I placed my hand upon his chest. It was over his heart and he tensed at my touch. “Maybe we both see the world different than others. It’s a natural understanding, drawing us together.” He held his eyes on mine as I continued.
“Let’s make a deal,” I said and it felt like the words were choked out of me as I spoke. As much as I didn’t want to do this, I had to do this. I could do this. “We both agree something is between us, let’s not analyze it. We can be friends. That's all I can give now. Friends.”
The lost expression on his face showed hurt for a moment, and as if he could see right through my lie, he blinked as he took a deep breath and smiled a closed smile. “Will you come to my loft later?” Without another mention, he changed the direction of the conversation and I couldn’t thank him enough.
“Are you inviting me up to your loft for coffee? I told you I can only be friends,” I said with a smirk and sarcasm. He tilted his head in question at first and as understanding met him he raised his eyebrows in shock.
“Oh god, no, I’m not doing that.” He ran his hand over his face. “Oh shit that sounds as if I find you disgusting, that isn’t what I meant. I meant, that’s not what I meant by what I asked.” He fidgeted and placed his weight on one foot then the other. “Blake will be there with this new chick he’s dating. He wanted me to meet her and I thought you might want to come over too. I’ll be making dinner.” The thought of Blake being there made my unease kick into overdrive. Last time I saw him was after our night drinking. From what Gabe said, I shared my history with both of them, but Gabe ever the smart friend, shut me up and took me to my room to speak in private. I was grateful for his foresight in keeping that part of me private. Blake couldn’t have understood the details.