Unplugged II: Unplugged, #2

by Sigal Ehrlich

  After some deep introspection, just before I fall asleep, I promise myself not to jump to conclusions, but to instead talk to Tyler. After all, there are three sides to every story. The mountain of crap you run in your head, his side (that attempts to soothe you,) and . . . the truth.

  “If only feelings had an off switch.”

  A thought that swims around Ivi’s head throughout the day.

  I step out to the open kitchen fresh and clean — well, more like fresh-ish and clean-ish. Fresh-ish (didn’t have the best night sleep. You see, a photo of your boyfriend looking utterly in love with someone else might do that to a girl,) and clean-ish (well, it’s something you get used to —never really being completely clean in this place, an outside hose-shower might do that to a girl.)

  Slowly, still in waking up rhythm, I make my way to grab a morning tea and join my friends. We take our time having our porridge and drinking our hot beverages while talking to the rest of the group.

  The delegation of volunteers headed to help the Doctors Without Borders staff isn’t big enough to fill up the old truck. There are just a few of us, the rest stay to finish the last touches for the school. Not too enthusiastic about yet another bumpy ride, I make my way to the truck with a light backpack on my shoulder for an overnight stay. Biting my lip, I contemplate running back to the room to take my phone with me. I know it’s not the most mature thing to do, not being available to talk to Tyler, still. . .

  “Hey, Ivi, in this lifetime!” Renata calls from the back of the truck, snuggled to Mikael’s side.

  I nod, smiling, quickly deciding that a little breather from Tyler is the right thing for me right now. I leave the phone behind, hopefully together with the feeling my heart is laden by.

  Drinking in the breathtaking, wild scenery, I push away disturbing thoughts and pledge to focus on everything else but Tyler for the next twenty-four hours. Ready for what the day will bring along.

  And it brings so much. For the most part, I feel like I’m sinking under its weight, working harder than ever.

  Night finds us exhausted. I feel like I’ve run a marathon as I shrug on a woolly sweater before joining the large group congregated around a vast fire pit. I can feel my lower back and the tension in my thighs as I bend to take a seat next to Maya, an Israeli medic I was teamed up with for the day.

  “You guys saved us today,” she says, handing me a bowl. The scent of hearty, spicy lentil soup engulfs me as I cradle the bowl in my hands, seeking to warm myself up. I nod with a gentle smile in response, finally letting my body indulge in the simple act of resting. Carrying equipment, moving it from location to location, setting up examination areas, it’s been a busy day, to put it mildly.

  Easy conversations spark in little groups as dinner is passed around and people let themselves finally relax. A slight shiver runs up my spine as a breeze of icy wind penetrates my sweater. In short moments it feels like a powerful cold front with Arctic air is descending upon us. Robert, one of the senior doctors, jogs toward us from the main house. Seeming to catch his breath, he addresses everyone around him. “There’s a cyclone warning.”

  Surprised questions and mumbles come as a response from the people around me.

  “We need to take shelter immediately. I don’t want to take any risks. Please get inside as soon as possible,” he says, looking pointedly at the crowd of volunteers, waiting for us to follow his order.

  Not a moment later, heavy rain pours from the sky, prompting us to do as told.

  Trying to get our minds off the disconcerting sounds of havoc coming from outside, we play cards and board games, some read or just fall into conversations with others as wild winds and rain plummet the windows persistently.

  We wake up to a sunny day, a complete contrast to the night before. At a morning briefing I learn that in other villages there’s damage to some buildings and dwellings, and that the massive landslides have left much of the district with limited or no road access. Meaning, we’re stuck here for the near future. “It could take a couple of days or a week, we still need to assess the damage.” I hear someone beside me explain to his fellow volunteer.

  The next couple of days pass with even harder work, damage control and constant thoughts of Tyler and how much I miss him. It feels like he rented a chunk of real estate in my brain which he never intends to leave.

  Tyler

  I eye the guitar on my lap with a deep frown. I rub my bristled cheeks with two hands, forcing whatever is coming over me to go away. It’s this niggling feeling poking at me somewhere inside my head. A feeling I can’t decipher, nor push away.

  “Hey Da — Tyler, check this one out.” Jeremey, sitting at the control desk in the studio, grins my way. He holds the guitar I got him a while ago in one hand, his other hovering over the mouse on the desk.

  It became our thing, once a week when he visits. I teach him how to play the guitar. Let’s just say, I’m grateful for my offspring’s other talents. This kid probably won’t be following in his dad’s footsteps. Come to think about it, taking after his mom would be a better choice anyhow. An artist versus an academic. It’s a no-brainer. However, if I’m being honest, once he finds out about the phenomenon that is a woman, well, the singer card would help better there.

  A smile that comes from deep inside warms me, the same effect it has each time my kid almost calls me dad. The last thing I’d do is push him, he’s been through a lot because of me, but I’d love for this word to fall naturally from his lips. I couldn’t be more grateful for this outcome, him and me, so naturally hanging out. Him being a part of my life is something I’m still overwhelmed by. Thank fucking Christ for second chances. And for an unbelievably awesome kid.

  Jeremy snickers, watching me as I read the meme he motioned at. I roll my eyes while shaking my head, which of course just elevates his amusement. Jeremy grins wider, saying, “If it’s on the internet it must be true.”

  I hide my smile, looking down at my guitar. Seems like the kid can’t get enough of ridiculing me for moronic lists like this one — “Hottest Men” where I’m ranked number one.

  “We have something better to do, here.” With the guitar pick between my lips I tip my chin at the guitar in his arm.

  Still grinning, Jeremy scrolls down, looking at some recent images related to me. “Maybe there’s something on me,” he murmurs next.

  “I’d rather there not be anything on you. Trust me kid, you don’t want to find yourself on the internet,” I say, then add, “Hey, Jer, I’m serious.”

  Jeremy nods, his attention still on the screen. I shake my head, glancing at my son and the screen. “Hold up,” I say abruptly.

  Jeremy observes the image that caught my eye and turns to me, the smile slowly slips from his lips.

  I inhale deeply through my nose, contemplating the image of Brooklyn and me looking. . . intimate. I cringe at the caption below the image: Tyler Lee Adam’s True Love, The One Person He Looks at This Way. This moment was indeed intimate, however, how it’s portrayed on the large monitor tells a completely different story to anyone who wasn’t with us in that moment. A moment when I told Brook how I feel about Ivi, how overwhelmingly strong it is, and she told me she couldn’t be happier for me.

  Jeremy turns to me, his clever eyes somewhat hesitant. He frowns, “I read earlier today that the weather condition in Nepal is getting worse.” His gentle way of bringing up Ivi after the photo he’d just seen. “I hope Ivi is okay.”

  My voice is raspier as I say, “I’ll try calling her again.” Again. Ivi has been unreachable for more than a day now. That niggling feeling in me just multiplied.

  As though to emphasize his point, Jeremy turns to check the weather update for the area in Nepal where Ivi is staying.

  I’m still deep in thought when the accord of his voice alone startles me. “Dad, they say that a hurricane just hit the Sindhupalchok region.” It feels like a brick hit my stomach as he adds, “People are missing, two are dead, and thousands are without power.�
��

  “Thud. Thud. Thud.”

  Ivi’s heart upon her return to the camp.

  A few rays of sun welcome us as we finally leave the building, they shine bright — somewhat sardonically — illuminating the chaos of broken branches and debris on the ground. Compared to past weather damage, what’s revealed before us is a pleasing aftermath, if it can be called that. Buildings and structures stayed firmly intact versus anything that wasn’t firmly secured to the ground being brutally shuffled around along with a small car and a roof that was torn off by the wild winds. I’m more than thankful that it’s more of a mess than a bona fide disaster, but this is just this village. I can’t help but worry about our village, its residents, and our fellow volunteers.

  For a couple of hours before taking a ride back to camp, we partake in an impromptu ceremony that the locals hold to show their gratitude for the outcome. This attitude warms my heart. Instead of fuelling thoughts of misfortune and woes due to the tragedies that strike so often, they choose to show gratitude. I’m humbled by these people. I can’t help but wonder how sometimes those who are blessed by fortune, satiated from everything life bestows on them, are the ones that at the first sight of calamity lose all faith.

  Shortly after the quick service, we help in uncluttering the area so the makeshift clinic can resume its work.

  Just before noon as the sky darkens once again, I pull my backpack up my shoulder, rub dust off my hands and climb up the back of the truck. We’re silent throughout the ride, some too exhausted to communicate and others in a contemplative mood. When a chilled breeze hits us, I shrug on my sweatshirt. When rain follows there’s nothing for us to do in the exposed bed of the truck but cover ourselves with a flimsy plastic sheet that does a lousy job in protecting us from getting drenched. At a certain point I just give up and let the rain wash over me.

  We find the camp bustling, and thankfully mostly unscathed. There is an undercurrent of buzzing energy, as we park in front of Big Mom’s house. The rain lets out, replaced by the sun again, however I’m soaked to my bones from the long ride and the only thing I can think of is changing into dry clothes. With my head bowed, lightly shivering, I hop off the tailgate. “Be right back, I need to get rid of these clothes,” I murmur to Renata, and with utter determination make my way to the house. A strange vibe coming from the improvised scaffolding embracing the freshly varnished school prompts me to divert my focused from my path. I’m taken aback by the odd scene. Every single person that just left the truck is frozen in place, their attention trained at something near the school. Squinting my gaze, I search for the root cause.

  I do a double take and nearly fall back on my bum to the vision that in my head seems like a fata morgana. I’m glued to my spot, utterly perplexed, watching Tyler — my Tyler, in a simple black hoodie, distressed jeans and heavy boots, as he walks my way. His eyes, their familiarity, their warmth, trained on me.

  And the entire world, complete with my ability to do anything but be wholly pulled toward him, is gone. Everything that happened since the time I last saw him flies out of my mind. I’m solely Tyler-cognizant. Drama, painful to watch portrayals, wounded hearts, natural disasters, all vanished by one loaded stare. It’s just him.

  My breath is trapped somewhere in my chest as I wait for him to reach me. It’s not a game of power, letting him come to me. The thing is, I couldn’t move even if I wanted. Tyler’s hand reaches me first by cupping my cheek. An involuntary shiver runs through me, even my body is too overwhelmed to control itself. Next, as I’m still realizing that the image in front of me is indeed him and not a figment of my imagination, I’m bundled in the warmest of embraces and that’s when I finally exhale. Finally everything feels just right.

  Tyler presses a kiss to the center of my head, murmuring through a relieved sigh, “You’re fine.” His hug on me tightens for some prolonged moments, pressing me to the center of his warmth.

  He pulls back to look at me. Assessing my baffled expressions, his lips tip up mischievously. “Are you always this soaked, or are you just happy to see me?”

  I let out a humored snort. Shaking my head, I say, “Lame.” His eyes light up playfully and his smile widens, calling for his dimple to pop out. “What are you doing here?” I ask next.

  “You didn’t answer my calls.”

  Right, if someone doesn’t answer your calls you just hop on a plane and fly for about twenty hours to see them. Yeah, makes sense. In his world maybe.

  “I was worried. Especially after the reports that came in after the cyclone.” He nods his head, extenuating his words. “Majorly worried.”

  I watch him closely for a beat, processing.

  He dips his chin, bringing his lips to my ear. “Now that I know that you’re okay, and I finally have you in my arms, can I at least get a happy-to-see-you kiss?” He grins at me.

  Mirroring his smile, I lean toward him and stop as reality sinks in to the sound of the people loitering around us. I steal a glance around me to find my friends appearing to mind their own business, but not really. They are way too obvious. Looks like Renata is about to pull out a director’s chair and get a camera rolling.

  I squeeze Tyler’s hand, tipping my face in the direction of our audience, “Maybe in a slightly more private spot.”

  “Maybe?” He cocks his head with a boyish smile.

  I point my finger at him. “Stop doing your wooer Jedi mind tricks on me, wait with the charm till I can reciprocate.”

  Tyler chuckles. He motions with his hand, animated eyes on me. “Lead the way to privacy, Kiisu.”

  Tyler links our fingers, following me en route to Big Mom’s house. Softly speaking, he asks me about the last couple of days. “Sometimes it feels like bad luck is a reoccurring thing around here. I just wish these people could get a break.” I tell him all about the insanity that left, once more, chaos in this place when loud whispers reach us. I halt, my mouth snaps into a flat line as the voices become clearer. “Isn’t he with that other super famous person, Brooklyn something? Oh, Mars. Brooklyn Mars!” A glowing snap of that infamous intimate photo of Brooklyn and Tyler from a few days ago conjures in my mind’s eye. Not the pause of my step, nor the drop of my hand from his is something I’m aware of, for all my resources go to trying to ease the painful squeeze in my heart.

  “Ivi?” Tyler’s concerned, low voice comes from a step ahead as he turns to me.

  I inhale deeply and slowly look up. Meeting his gaze takes a great effort.

  He drops his head and slowly lifts it up to look at me, “Look.” His jaw clenches as he seems to consider something. He shakes his, looking irate . . . with himself. I watch him inquisitively as he sends his hand to the back of his jeans and fetches a satellite phone. Glancing at his watch, he twists his mouth in exasperation. With eyebrows pinched, he looks at me, “have you seen that last photo of Brooklyn and—?”

  I nod accent even before he finishes the sentence.

  He exhales through his nose, scratching his stubble. “I — ” he starts and stops. His features morph with determination, “Fuck this.” I watch him, startled at his indecisive, odd behavior, as he searches up a contact on his phone and brings it to his ear, his troubled eyes on mine.

  “Hey,” he says to the person on the line. “Yeah, sorry, I know it’s late, but I need you to talk to Ivi right now and explain — ” he nods, “Yeah, that.” Listening, he nods once more. “Appreciate it, B.”

  Tyler retrieves the phone from his ear and offers it to me. “It’s Brooklyn, can you talk to her for me?”

  Somewhat anxious, I take the phone from Tyler. Casting down my stare, fidgeting with my shoe in the gravel, I say, “Hi, it’s Ivi.”

  “Hi Ivi, ummm, we’ve met before. We don’t know each other too well, I’m Tyler’s. Ummm, I — ” An uncertain Brooklyn Mars begins. I swallow hard, not too enthusiastic about Brooklyn being Tyler’s whatever. The “belonging” part doesn’t bode well. “Listen Ivi, Tyler is very important to me, and I wouldn’t be d
oing this for anyone else on the planet. What I’m about to tell you, I need you to keep under wraps, honor my privacy.”

  “Sure,” I murmur, having a hard time following.

  She clears her throat. “Tyler and I, we’ve been friends forever and he’s a person that I blindly trust and since he feels the same way about you. . .” The silence that comes next makes me think she’s culling her words carefully. Her next words come out quick as a gunshot. “Ivi, I’m gay.”

  “Pardon?” I croak out, puzzled.

  “I’m queer, Ivi,” she says on an exhale. “And it’s something that I’m not inclined to share with the world for the time being.” Her tone is harsher. “You got a taste of our world by now, and well, you know how judgmental and intrusive it can get.”

  I hum assent, still genuinely baffled.

  “Till now, Tyler has been a great friend by helping me stay clear of any suspicion by playing hot and cold about our relationship with the media. But now, now that he has you, and I know just how important you are to him, I know we can’t do that anymore. I understand. We’re still very close and I wouldn’t give up our friendship for anything.”

  Not even once has Tyler lied to me from the very beginning. There was nothing going on between him and Brooklyn besides true friendship. Tyler is as great as I always thought he was, and apparently even more.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me, Brooklyn. I truly appreciate it. I know it wasn’t easy. And be assured, I won’t compromise the trust you’ve given me.”