Page 7 of Expressionate
Trish follows me into the kitchen and fresh tears fill her eyes as she sits down at my cheap kitchen table. Even though it's hot outside and summer isn't quite over yet, I make us hot chocolate. It's the only chocolate I have in the house, and I read an article once that said 40% of women would prefer their favorite food over sex. This is her favorite because she finds it comforting, but I think it might be more comforting if she didn’t have a reason to cry in the first place. I set my teapot on the back burner to heat before taking a seat at the table with her to wait. Immediately, her face flushes red again and she bursts into tears. I reach awkwardly across the table to pat herhand.
She cries and blubbers and stumbles through a confusing explanation of what happened with Lawrence. A fight of some kind. They're the kind of couple that always fights, and I don't like it. It seems stupid to me. Trish has told me several times, though, that fighting is normal for couples. Not fighting is what's abnormal. I never fought with Danny…or Todd for that matter. But she assures me that fighting means they care. That makes sense, then. If I never fought with any of my exes, it only proves that I didn’tcare.
"–so he told me if I felt that way, then I could find somewhere else to sleep tonight," shecries.
That last, little tidbit perks my ears. "He kicked youout?"
She shakes her head, stopping only to direct her gaze everywhere else in the room but at me. "N-no, of course not. He justmeant–"
"If he tells you to sleep somewhere else, that sounds like he's kicking you out," I interrupt, my voicehardening.
Trisha heaves a big sigh as I stand up and attend to the screaming kettle of hot water. “You just don’t understand, Love. Things are different when you care about someone.” She blanches. “I mean, not that youdon’tcare about people. You do, and that’s not how I meant it. It’s justthat—”
“I’ve never beeninlove,” I state plainly as I pour the hot water over two mugs filled with chocolate powder. I don’t believe in it. Lust, yeah. That I can believe in. I’ve seen a lot of lust; been the recipient of the unwanted kind for a longtime.
She sighs again, deflating further into her seat. “I’m anasshole.”
I shake my head as I stir the powder together with the water before adding dashes of milk. “You’re not an asshole,” I assure her. I hand her one of the mugs and then retake my seat. “And you’re right. I’ve never been in love. I don’t know what it’slike.”
A part of me wants to ask her why she comes to me about these things, because with age does not always come wisdom, and I am especially untutored about love and relationship matters. Anything that I’ve had in the past was always a give and take kind of relationship. Companionship and sex for…what? Stability? A roof over my head? The cure for loneliness? But I don’t say anything because the reality is, I like it when she comes to me. Even if all I can do is sit here and listen to her, I feel like I’m helping and playing the role of her sister the right way. Being in the right role after a long time of being in the wrong one feels different, it feels good when so very few things ever doanymore.
Trish stares at her steaming mug of hot cocoa for several long moments before setting it on the table. She doesn’t move to pick it up again, and it’s the first time I notice that she’s wearing long sleeves. Her fingers grip the hem of each sleeve, pulling them further down, covering half her hands as she folds her arms on the table and rests her head atopthem.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” sheasks.
I sip my cocoa and nod. “You know you’re always welcome to stay withme.”
She smiles, but it seems wan –incomplete.
We don’t talk about Lawrence anymore. Instead, she changes into an old pair of sweats and leaves her long sleeve t-shirt on. I offer to let her borrow a tank top since I know it’s hot, but she refuses so I leave the window in my room cracked all night. Long after Trisha has fallen asleep on the other side of my new bed I hear the front door open, and Beverly comes in giggling and stumbling, and muttering to herself. I hear the telltale sound of high heels being kicked off in the hallway as they smack against the wall. I think it’s a good thing we bought renters insurance because if she destroys the place, maybe we can call it in rather than lose thedeposit.
Trish grumbles quietly in her sleep and rolls toward the wall as Beverly’s bedroom door slams closed. I lay there and consider what my sister must be feeling. I know I’ve never been in love. I don’t really understand how peopledofall in love. Is it automatic? Sex doesn’t equal love, but do most people begin to develop a connection for people they’ve sleptwith?
How would Iknow?
My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I ignoreit.
* * *
Numbness sinks into my bones.When I sleep, I dream, but when I wake, it’s always there. That night, Trisha cries in her sleep. I listen even as I dream of Elysian fields burning. Dreams washed away by giant floods. And the constant reminder that I don’t understand. I don’t understand why she’s crying. Why Lawrence is so important to her. Why it matters. I broke up with Todd because I couldn’t feel anything beyond minor lust and companionship. He didn’t hurt me in any way. How does Lawrence hurt Trisha? Why does he hurt her? Why does she lethim?
I get out of bed and retreat to my computer. I know there’s no way I can find the answer no matter how vast the internet is. No, I’m just searching for the right thing to say come tomorrow morning. What do I tell her? What is the best advice to give someone dealing with a tough relationship? I pause, my fingertips hovering over my keyboard as I look back at her, snoring lightly as she snuffles and rolls over. How does someone even fall in love? Iwonder.
When she wakes up her mascara is completely gone, streaked across the pillow she’d used. I don’t tell her how tired she looks; I’m sure she can feel it. It’s hard to watch her slowly drag herself around my apartment though; going through the motions of getting up, going to the bathroom, and eating cereal at my kitchen table. When she offers to stay and help me unpack the rest of my things, I shake myhead.
“I’d love to have you stay,” I say. “In fact, if you really want to stay, you can. But I don’t think you’re gonna be happy until you feel comfortable goinghome.”
She’s quiet for several moments before she graces me with another wan smile. “You may not understand relationships,” she says, “but you always know what to say.” Despite her kind words, I flinch inwardly. It’s not like I choose not to understand, I had just shut that part of myself down a long timeago.
I stare at her as she gets up and rinses her cereal bowl in the kitchen sink before disappearing down the hall to my room. Exhaling a deep sigh, I hope that it helped. She seems better than she had been the night before and, sometimes, that’s all I can really askfor.
When Trish reemerges from my room, I’m sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window, a soggy bowl of fruity flavored cereal slowly turning to mush in my milk. Trish smiles at me, dressed in the same clothes as the night before. She stops by the table and hugs me awkwardly. I try to return her hug and wish I could stand up without pushing her away to not make the embrace souncomfortable.
“I’m going to go talk things out with Lawrence,” she says. “Thanks for the hot cocoa and theadvice.”
I blink at her, thinking,whatadvice?
Before I can ask, though, Beverly steps into the kitchen looking like Athletic Runway Barbie. Her make-up is done to perfection despite the fact that she’s wearing workout clothes meant for sweating her ass off, and perhaps that’s her plan, but not in the way her glittering sneakers would have people believe. Her white-blonde hair is tied up in a high ponytail with enormous shades covering the upper portion of her face. She’s wearing a tight tank top and spandex shorts that could probably pass for decent on someone else, but somehow, on her, seem painted on. Those sneakers of hers have obviously never seen the light of day or the darkness of dirt beneath their soles. I have to wonder, whereisshegoing?
