sinner

The sun had already set; it was only five o’ clock. The girl waiting for the bus wore a pink scarf. She had wanted the scarf on a whim, which was typical of her, and he had gotten it, which was even more typical of him. The taker, the giver. Wasn’t that always the case? She trembled in the wind but shook her head when the boy offered her his jacket. The boy was blond, blue-eyed, and striking. She sometimes suggested that he should stop working at the garage and start modelling; the look on his face when she said that was priceless. For someone so beautiful, he was so shy. The smallest compliments made him uncomfortable. He was easy to tease, and easier still to love. Yes, she loved him despite all his insecurities. She needed him. She...

The girl wanted to speak but there were no words. Nothing would come out right. So she offered him a cigarette instead. He shook his head. Like always. He was such a good person. Sometimes that pained her. When someone cast such a strong light, how could others not become shadows around them? Lately she had grown to feel uneasy in his presence. Instead of curling up together at night, he often slept on the couch. The boy didn’t have to do that. She was away most nights. Whenever she staggered home in the early morning, he helped her to bed without comment. He must have smelled the alcohol on her, seen the weary look in her eyes, noticed the bra straps falling off her shoulders. She had lost the leather jacket that he had given her as a birthday present. Maddeningly, he never yelled at her. She wanted him to. But he was so gentle with her.

No one ever told her that she was wrong. Everyone stood back. Perhaps they were wary of what would happen if they said anything. She thought about what she would do if someone blamed her, but couldn’t imagine it. Nothing mattered. The girl lived outside the lines, determined to blur them, unwilling to stand still. And so her free fall continued.

The boy glanced at her every so often. When he did that, she smiled at him, but remained silent. There was nothing to say. When the boy looked away to check if the bus was coming, she looked at her phone. No new messages. She stared harder, as if that would make something happen, but she knew nothing would. Everyone said that you had to take responsibility for your own happiness. Life didn’t owe you anything. She believed that. But still, she wanted to see a miracle for once. Responsibility was a heavy burden. The girl did not know how much longer she could continue beneath its weight. Not when things were like this. Cold. Dark. Another winter where she would walk below strings of Christmas lights and feel nothing at all.

Smoking no longer comforted her. Like everything else, it had become a habit. The girl did not know why she continued making the same mistakes. She berated herself for being foolish, and yet, she walked the path to ruin. The cigarette fell to the pavement. The girl hadn’t realized how cold she actually was: her fingers were frozen. She looked at the flame, weakly trying to ignite itself again, and crushed it beneath her shoe. Her chest felt hollow. The remnants of smoke hurt her eyes. She brushed them with the back of her hand, trying to rub the irritation away, before returning to her phone.

No new messages...

“I don’t think it’s coming,” the boy said. “Should we walk?”

The girl shrugged, staring at the glowing screen, hoping, hoping, hoping.

“Don’t be like this again.” His voice was pleading. “I thought—”

“I’m just standing here. That’s all.”

“You’re upset.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m fine. Just kind of distracted. Give me a sec.”

“Okay.” He exhaled. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? I love you.”

“God, you tell me that all the time.” She re-read an old text message, but she couldn’t understand what it meant. Her head pounded dully as she spoke.”Are those the only English words you know?”

“If...if you want to leave....if you’re unhappy...”

“Oh, Cloud.” She looked up from her phone. “Where would I go?”

His eyes were black in the absence of the sun. The girl blinked and they returned to normal: blue, beautiful. He reached for her hand and she let him take it. Their fingers intertwined perfectly. That would have mattered before, would have meant something. But she had been silly to think that fitting together hand-in-hand was fate. He wasn’t the only one who could hold her hand. Anyone could. But his hands were so warm. Maybe everyone had hands like his.

The girl didn’t know if she could stand letting him go in order to find out.