Page 53 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘Try not to sound too excited,’ I say. Wiping my face, I turn the water on and blow out a hot breath.
Her laughter slips past the door, filling the bathroom with brightness. ‘What the fuck did you and Magdalen do? You’ve been out of it for days now.’ Her chuckles become bubbly and uncontrollable. ‘Do you think Maggie is shitting herself as we speak?’
Anika stomps her heel on the ground, so amused by her own company she forgets I’m in here. ‘Wait, let me ask her.’
‘I thought you had to pee?’ I call out, turning off the water after an appropriate amount of time, and unlock the door. But as I begin to turn the knob, I pause, stomach sinking quickly. ‘What do you mean ask Mag—’
When I open the door, Anika’s head is hanging out the railing of the upstairs hallway balcony. ‘Magdalen Savoy, are you currently shitting yourself as we speak?’ she screams down.
‘I’m going to need you to repeat that,’ a voice yells from downstairs, and I think I might actually shit myself now.
Her voice is light and slightly winded, as if she’s been running. I try not to picture what she looks like, cheeks flushed. I know that look all too well. We’ve expertly avoided each other for nearly a week.
Anika huffs with agitation. ‘I said, are you currently shitting yourself like my brother just has?’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ I bury my head in my hands and Anika snaps her attention to me and stands up from the railing. ‘Don’t be embarrassed! I’m sure Maggie is overcome with the same bodily discomfort as you.’
‘No, Anika. I can promise you she’s not.’
‘Magdalen, if you don’t answer me right now, I’ll assume that shit is currently leaking out of your ass.’
‘Must you be so descriptive?’ I huff, but I’m secretly glad of this bickering.
‘Yeah, I must.’
I look down at my shaking hands and squeeze. The dizziness has subsided and I no longer have to focus on the beating of my heart, on how to breathe or on the thirty-two curtain rings. But the smallness lingers, the weight of the memory’s shadow hovering over my own, pressing down, knotting my muscles until I feel my whole body cramp. As I stand in the hallway, Anika zooms past me, slamming the bathroom door.
The door to my bedroom is open; through it I can see my desk with the open textbook. Ancient Egypt feels impossibly far away, so I walk past the room, diverting my eyes from the spot where the scissors lie. It’s almost ridiculous now. I should laugh at my own stupidity and resolve never to let it happen again.
31
MAGDALEN
Footsteps pad down the stairs as I rush towards the medicine cabinet in the Sinclairs’ kitchen, looking for some pain relievers. I pause, eyeing the liquor cabinet stocked full of the hard stuff, and debate whether it’s too early to get drunk. As I promised Anika, tonight I will dine and date a boy. A real-life boy who can possibly stand to touch me for longer than fourteen seconds without wanting to jump into the river and drown. Granted, he may not know it’s a date, but nonetheless, I’m counting it as one. Settling for ibuprofen instead of vodka, my hands try to pry open the bottle when I hear bare feet slap against the kitchen tile and abruptly stop at the entrance. I know before I turn around.
Theo.
I close my eyes. If you would have let me, I would have left a part of my mind for only you.
My chest deflates, and while my heart begins to beat anxiously, I cannot find the will to be embarrassed by our fumble last week. Instead, something far more depressing unravels. I have the urge to step backwards until he’s right behind me. Until I can feel his heat over mine. To turn around and just stare at his beautiful face. It’s addictive to look at him. Those eyes. I want them to see me. To notice the small things. I want them to see that the pain I’m in is only because I still want for him.
But I would rather drink cement than admit my masochistic desire to be rejected all over again. So I gather the strength of my Emily, my Anika, and return to the task of popping the ibuprofen.
‘Magdalen.’
I whip around, seeing him standing at the edge of the kitchen. He nods curtly, eyes darting across the room. As if subconsciously measuring the farthest points from me and judging how to approach without suspicion. I notice everything you do, Theo. If you blink too quickly, if you lean on your heels, if you scratch your elbow, I’ll notice. Instead of saying anything at all, I give a polite, albeit awkward, smile and turn towards the cabinet once again. If there’s one thing I’m excellent at, it’s silence. I can hear him thinking of a polite way to excuse himself.
‘You can just leave. I won’t cry about it.’
He laughs condescendingly, and I roll my eyes only because he can’t see me.
‘I didn’t think you could cry,’ he bites back.
I flinch, surprisingly hurt by his assessment. Angry that he doesn’t understand me at all. Is that what he thinks? That I’m too timid for tears? I’m ready to lash out and say something spiteful, but when I look at him I falter. He is comparatively unkempt today. Still beautiful, but there’s a tiredness to him that I haven’t noticed before. It feels deep. His hair is dishevelled, and his neck looks damp with sweat, like he’s just awoken from a nightmare. But I’m sick of people not understanding me, so I lash out anyway.
‘Did you think I wasn’t hurt when you humped me in an alley and then decided you didn’t like me enough to finish?’ The pulse in my temple throbs angrily.
‘Oh please.’ He steps closer, quickly realizes his mistake, and steps back. ‘You have no emotional attachment to me. Don’t act like I wasn’t just the closest body that you could get off on.’
