by Sarah Daltry
Lily sighs contentedly and wraps my arms around her as she falls asleep. I spend the night cradling her in my arms. I have an exam in the morning, as does she, but I can’t sleep. I don’t want to wake and find out none of this happened, so I stay on guard all night, holding her and listening to her soft breathing as she dreams. I hope it’s of a place where she and I are happy.
In the morning, I realize we have to get ready for our exams. I wake her by kissing along her face and she smiles up at me. I’m hard, even though I wasn’t asleep, but it’s not really new being around her. I press my erection into her thigh and play with her clit, bringing her to full wakefulness.
“We don’t have time,” she laughs.
“I can be quick,” I argue.
I kiss her and she moans under me, but pulls away and then slides down my body until she has me in her mouth. She takes in my entire length and her tongue moves along my cock as she clutches me from the base and strokes in tempo with her mouth. I roll onto my back and she moves with me, going faster and deeper now that she has a better angle. I push her head all the way down, wrapping my fingers in her hair.
“Oh, fuck, Lily, yes. You are fucking beautiful,” I cry and I burst into her.
“More later,” she teases.
Hell, I want more now, but we need to study and she’s right to suggest breakfast. Otherwise, breakfast would be something very similar to what just happened. I follow her to the cafeteria and, this morning, I don’t even care that I don’t belong here. Lily looks at me like I do and it blurs the edges of the world. She has an incredible ability to make me feel like someone special, and I want to hold her and kiss her and tell her that I love her, but instead, I focus on my geometry textbook and eat pancakes.
There is an odd normalcy of being in this moment, eating in the cafeteria, studying for a test, and sitting with my – girlfriend? – and I wonder what it must be like for people whose lives are always this normal. Do they even appreciate the wonderfulness of such mundane moments? Do they know how lucky they are? If I died right here and now, this one morning would be the memory I’d most treasure.
I go to my exam, leaving Lily by her classroom, and despite my lack of sleep, I feel like I can take on the world. I think I do well and when I get outside after the exam and the sun is shining, I start a list in my head of all the things I want to do. Somewhere in the back of all my racing thoughts is this nagging voice reminding me not to get too comfortable, that this is a borrowed moment from someone else’s life, but I drown it out with more ideas and plans. While I wait for her to finish her exam, I write a few songs and I text Neil about tomorrow’s practice.
Lily comes down the steps toward where I’m sitting on the grass and she glows. It’s ridiculous. A giant grin breaks across her face as she waves. I turn around as a reflex, looking for the person who’s made her smile like that, and then it hits me - I am that person. Holy shit.
She looks like she’s waited years to see me. She runs down the last few steps and tackles me on the quad, kissing me across my face and neck.
“Bring me back to your room and let’s finish what we started this morning,” she demands and she runs her hand over my crotch.
I don’t even have the door closed before she’s naked and hopping up on my bed. I trip over my pants trying to get to her and she laughs, but I quiet the giggling fast enough when I flip her over, cover her mouth, and slide deep into her. She arches her ass up toward me and bites down on my hand.
“You are fucking perfect, princess,” I growl at her. And she really is. She’s soft and sweet in all the right ways, but also wild and hungry in others. I feel like she’ll never be fully satisfied and I love that her desire matches mine. I fuck her hard, which is a relief after the gentleness of last night, and it makes me crazy that she’s so into it. I reach down with the hand she’s not biting and rub her clit as I fuck her. She grows so wet that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. I forget everything but Lily’s cunt as I come, and then I flip her over to face me.
She grins. “I love your cock.”
It’s vulgar and dirty and, coming from a girl like her, it sounds ridiculous, but it’s just as good as hearing her tell me she loves me.
“You’re such a dirty slut,” I tease her, and then I worry that she’ll be offended. I’m only playing and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, and I definitely don’t want to discourage her slut-like behavior with me, but she just giggles.
“Yeah, but I’m your dirty slut.”
I play with her tits and her nipples get hard under my touch; it doesn’t take long before she’s moaning and begging for more. I slide down the length of her body and slip between her legs. Her pussy is wet again and I lick along the length of it, loving the way she tastes.
“Oh, God, Jack. More,” she begs, and I swirl my tongue over her, writing her a little love letter with my tongue. I imagine she has no idea, since she’s losing control, bucking wildly and slamming herself against me. I flick her clit and she screams. It’s loud and desperate and almost painful. I feel her come. I don’t know if she’s ever come like this, the wetness spilling down her legs and onto the bed. She looks mortified when I look at her face and I smile, licking along her thighs and around her cunt until she’s clean. Then I sit up and meet her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she says.
“For what?”
“That was, um…”
“Fucking fantastic,” I tell her. “Princess, you are a fucking dream come true.”
She still looks sheepish, but I gather her into my arms and hold her, our naked bodies fitted together perfectly, and this time I do fall asleep. Although the nagging voice is still trying to ruin my mood, I silence it.
Chapter 16
We both have exams and we agreed to a mutual, albeit forced, exile, so we could work on papers. It seems like my entire day is gone and I haven’t seen Lily at all. I still have band practice, too, but she promised to come by later so we could at least sleep together. I miss her and I feel embarrassed that I do. I also have to fight not to listen to the voice reminding me how dangerous this is, and how badly it will go when it ends. I know it will have to end, but the delusion is too pleasant to give up. And so I stumble along, like an ignorant fool, and I derive great joy just from looking at her.
At practice, I decide to share a few of the songs I’ve been writing, and when they’re done playing, Neil just stares at me. Eric and Devon smirk and I don’t know what they’re thinking.
“Really, dude?” Neil finally says.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you just come in here and play fucking power ballads?”
“I-” But there’s nothing I can say, because yes, I did write fucking power ballads. I close my mouth and look at the three of them and suddenly everyone is laughing.
“Hey,” I whine.
“Fucking power ballads,” Neil says and I laugh, too. Because who the fuck writes power ballads?
I don’t mention Lily, because the next thing you know, I’ll be writing shit for a boy band and I know they’ll never let me live it down. Neil shakes his head and we go back to our moody rage songs. I need to stop writing music with Lily around.
There’s still enough buried in me to put into the band. Lily makes me happy when I’m not thinking obsessively about how it will end, but she isn’t everything. There’s still my dad, my mom, my own hatred of things, Alana…
I play and try to lose the thoughts as they swirl around me, darkening the once bright light of being with Lily. I push them into the bass, telling myself that I won’t leave here burdened with them, but when everyone else is tired, the thoughts are still there. The blackness is starting to settle over me again and I try to shake it. Band practice is over and I’m afraid to go back to Lily like this, so I walk. I have no destination and no plan.
I light a cigarette and I realize after I’ve been walking a while that I’m heading toward the bar. Since I met Lily, I’ve felt the need less, but it’s back a
nd it’s destructive. I don’t want to feel; I don’t want to be alive.
I take out my phone and I think about texting her, but I can’t. She thinks she can handle me; she thinks we’ll be okay. How can I tell her that sometimes her eyes aren’t enough to stop me? That sometimes all I can think about is dying? No one has ever really understood it, except Alana, and that’s what drives me to text her instead.
I need you, I type. I’m a fucking wreck.
What about Lily?
She won’t understand. Please?
Sure. Give me an hour.
And so I tell her to meet me at the bar and I walk slowly, smoking half my pack of cigarettes and wondering why the darkness is so heavy. It feels like whenever I think I’ve moved past it, it finds me again and obliterates all that is good.
The night I gave into it, I stood in my bathroom for an hour, just staring at myself in the mirror. I could have called someone, could have yelled to my grandmother, but I didn’t. I just stood, silent, trying to come up with one reason to stay. After an hour, I had nothing – and so I gathered the rope. My grandmother told me later that she found me in the morning. I fucked it up, so I was still half-conscious, and she got me to the hospital. When I woke up, all I could think about was the fact that I couldn’t even die right.
I hate these nights. I hate the way it comes from nowhere. Everything was good. It was so fucking good and now, here I am, spiraling.
I dig in my pack for the last cigarette. How the fuck did I smoke more than half a pack in such a short time? The self-destructive voices are back, telling me everything I already know. You’re worthless. You’ll only ruin her life. Just kill yourself. You will never matter. For what was both the flicker of a moment and the wonder of a lifetime, Lily drowned them out. She was hope. She was release from pain. I don’t know what I was to her, if anything other than an enjoyable distraction, but in a short span of time, I thought she could be part of me. But now, the voices are laughing. Because why would a girl like that ever want to be included in my world?
Alana is already at the bar. She’s anxious and I see her before she sees me. She’s biting her nails and tapping her foot. I hate doing this to her. I can’t give her anything of myself. For whatever reason, I close myself off to her, yet I demand her attention and affection when I want it. And she always comes running. I’m not even a good friend.
“Hey,” I say from behind her.
She spins quickly, nearly falling off the stool.
“Are you okay?”
That’s the question of my life, isn’t it? Everyone always wants to know if I’m “okay.” What is okay? Is it the same as happy? Is it hopeful and willing to fight? I’m none of those things. Is it being able to talk it out, rather than running to the nearest bridge and throwing myself from it? Because I guess I’m there. I reached out to someone for help, so does that mean I’m better?
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.
“What happened? Is it Lily?”
“No. That’s just it. She’s perfect. It’s nothing. There is no reason for me to feel like this. Well, no new reason.”
“So what happened?”
“I was happy. I was fucking soaring, Alana. I fell for her so hard and it felt good. It felt real. I looked at her and I saw a version of me I could tolerate reflected back. But then, she wasn’t there and I was playing with the band and it just … I can’t give her anything. How do I fit into her picture perfect world? Just imagine. Her parents would probably take her out of school if they met me.”
“Maybe they’re not like everyone else. She wasn’t.”
I shake my head and order a beer. I have to walk back and I don’t want to be out of my fucking head. Besides, I told Lily I’d see her tonight.
“She’s a fucking enigma. But she isn’t a representation of the world. Percentages dictate-”
“Percentages don’t mean a fucking thing,” Alana says. “You tell yourself these things so you can hide when it gets too fucking hard. You tell yourself you deserve to be treated like shit, so that when you are, it hurts a little less. But without the pain, you’ll never find what’s worth staying alive for. And Jesus. I just need to know you found something.”
“What the fuck is worth it?” I demand.
“I don’t know. But I keep going. Dave kept going. Your grandmother kept fucking going. And it’s bullshit that you think you have the goddamn right to leave us behind to pick up the fucking pieces.”
I don’t respond. How can I?
“Look, Jack, I dropped everything tonight to come here. But for what? If you want to sink into this fucking place, you’re going to sink and I can’t stop you. I can call Lily. I can go to her and ask her to fix you. But next week, next month, next year, maybe things won’t work out. And then what? Are you going to put your fucking life in her hands? Or in mine? Because we’re just two people. If you don’t love you, it means nothing for either of us to.”
“She doesn’t love me.”
“You haven’t even given her a chance. You quit before you even got started. Like you always do. But hell. I’ll always be standing around, waiting to pick up the mess.”
I can’t believe how much it hurts. I’m not angry at her. Everything she says is true. It doesn’t lighten the heaviness over me. In fact, it just adds to my burden, but she’s still right. I reach out and take her hands. She looks up at me, her sad eyes sadder than I’ve ever seen them.
“I love you,” she says. “If you were gone, it would leave me with nothing. No one ever cares about leaving me. You have your shit, I know, but please, stop thinking about leaving me, Jack. I can’t survive it. I can’t get that fucking call. If you’re gonna do it, you better pick up the fucking phone and tell me where. Because you need to take me with you.”
I get off the stool and take her by the hand out into the alley. Holding her against me, I sob into her hair. “I can’t take you there,” I tell her.
“Well, I can’t live without you.”
Alana is putting something on me no one ever has. Obligation. I’ve never been indebted to another person. I don’t even know how to owe another person a part of me. But I will fucking die before I will let her hurt like this. The thought makes me chuckle in its irony and she looks at me, rage and misery giving way to confusion.
“Are you fucking laughing?”
I kiss her lightly on the lips. “It’s just the ridiculous notion that I would rather die than break you. Which, given the circumstances-”
“I fucking hate you, you know.”
I kiss her again. “I know.”
“Fucking asshole. Go back to your fucking dorm and find that damn girl. And don’t let her get away from you because you’re too much of a pussy to love her.”
“Can you give me a ride?” I ask sheepishly.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she repeats.
Chapter 17
I can’t tell Lily why I’m so late, and so I don’t; I just tell her band practice ran long. She looks fucking adorable in her soft green pants and sweatshirt and I just want to hold her. She doesn’t complain and we lie in my bed, cuddling. It’s absurd; it’s innocent and sweet and pure and everything I’m not, yet she makes me feel so complete. The depression still weighs on me, but I force myself to be present now, with her.
“I missed you,” she says once I’m curled up around her.
“Me too.”
“I wish you’d come back sooner. You could’ve helped me with my math homework. Aren’t you like super math guy?”
I laugh. “Not exactly.”
“Yeah, well it sucks. But I’m glad you’re back.”
I breathe in her permanently strawberry-scented hair. I don’t have words. I don’t want to reveal what she needs to hear. I know that eventually I need to tell her about my time in the hospital. However, I’ve seen the desperation in Alana’s eyes when I make a casual comment about wishing I was dead or when I get quiet after an argument. I never want to see that in Lily’s. I never w
ant to doubt that her feelings are real. If she knew how desperate I am, how close to the precipice I’ve come, she’d love me out of some kind of debt. And while I may be able to face Alana’s obligation, I can’t demand it from Lily.
She falls asleep and it’s what we said it would be – sleeping together, since we’re both worn out from exams. I don’t fall asleep, though. I listen to the soft sounds she makes as she sleeps and I think about killing myself. Not about actually killing myself, but of the existential nature of the desire. I don’t know how to control it, but neither has any therapist I’ve seen. It appears without warning, like it did tonight. Sometimes there are triggers, even small ones. Triggers like facing the misery of the songs I wrote before Lily, now that I know what life is like after her. Sometimes there are no triggers.
What scares me most of all is that even if I could move on from my past, even if I learned to cope with my family, I can’t see a life past the next few years. Even when I’m not actively suicidal, my mind always tells me that someday it will be too much, and I’ll never be an adult. The concept of thirty feels impossible.
How do I reconcile these thoughts with holding Lily? She’s soft, she fits perfectly in my arms, and she trusts me. She trusts me. Not the way Alana trusts me, because Alana knows I see a part of myself in her. Lily trusts me without reason, without logic, and without fear. How do I tell her that someday, possibly when neither of us expects it, I could snap and be so overwhelmed by my pain that nothing would stop me from dying? How do I say to this girl that, no matter what she does, I don’t know that her face will appear in the mirror next time? That I could stand there for days and she may not register if the need to kill myself overpowers anything we’ve built? And how can I ask her to try anyway?
I can’t do any of those things, so instead I edge closer to that precipice, and I will the light to come.
****
Exams and papers step in and take away the free time to think about dying or defining our relationship. We’re both tired and busy and we spend the next night the same way, just cuddling and holding each other. The time will come when we’ll face the demons that are waiting, but right now, school comes first. By Thursday afternoon, I’m ready to pass out, although my exams are done. I have one last paper to write and then work all weekend, but no more tests. Although my eyes ache as I force them to stay open, as soon as I see Lily waiting outside for me, I have a newfound energy.