Hold This Close by Julie Roberts Towe

Author:Julie Roberts Towe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stitched Wing Publishing
Published: 2015-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

10

Want

"Allie, stop," he's remarkably calm compared to me. He's pulling my elbow because it's all he can get to with my arms hugging the notebook and my body folded around it like it's my child and the end of the world is coming down upon us.

Phillip stands up from the swing and squats in front of me. His hands are on my shoulders and he's trying to push me upright to look him in the eyes. I resist.

"Come on, Allie, let's make this right. I have to leave soon and I don't want to leave you like this. I'm scared."

Pity. Ugh. I hate it all. But it isn't his fault.

He walks away, into the house. I'm still crying and now I'm starting to panic thinking he's going to read my other notebooks. The combination of puffy sinuses and an anxiety attack has me gasping for air. I have to sit up to breathe. By the time he comes back I have my head flopped back as I stare at the slats of wood from beneath the deck. I am trying to hold each breath in long enough to make use of the oxygen. It takes all my concentration, which means I can't think about Bobby or Phillip or Alex. I've never been so thankful for a terrifying inability to breathe.

"Here," he hands me a box of tissues and stands in front of me. He seems ten feet tall.

I dry my eyes, which is more like drying my whole face. At least I can breathe through my nose again. I'm afraid, though, that as soon as we start talking again I will be back to the way I was before.

He gets on his knees to look into my eyes. It helps that he's no longer towering over me. But this is so much more intimate that I wish he'd stand up again. He pulls at my notebook and I resist letting it go but then I realize he has probably read it all anyway. Why did it have to be the most personal writings I have ever done? Why couldn't he have read the poems about chasing Jute through the woods and climbing trees?

Once the notebook leaves my grasp, I hear it sliding across the patio. He has tossed it away from us.

"Forget about all that. Tell me what will make you feel better. What do you want now?"

I think, Right now or from-this-point-forward now? Want is a complicated thing, and a thing I don't want to think about. I wait for him to clarify.

"You are staring at me like a deer in headlights." He laughs. "Don't you ever think about what you want?"

I offer a vague answer, "I want two things."

"Okay, so what are they?" He rests his hands on my knees and gives them a quick squeeze that tickles.

"I want something I shouldn't want. And I want something to take its place so I won't have to want it anymore."

He squints his eyes in confusion like I didn't saying what he expected me to say.

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