Page 7 of Aftershock

Trapped

My eyes stung on the verge of tears as I breathed in shakily, trying to force them away. The minute I blinked, the tears fell anyway, and I couldn't stop them. I was so angry, not only at my mom for defending him but also at myself for caring so much. Somehow, I let myself get roped into a cycle of pleasing others instead of focusing on what made me happy.

Always trying to impress dear old dad.

My happiness was the new priority. I was done trying to fix something that was clearly broken. Trying to heal a broken relationship was kind of like that nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty. No matter how hard the king’s men tried, it was impossible for them to fix something that was so fragile in the first place. Yeah, maybe that comparison was too dark for a nursery rhyme, but have you heard of the story behind Ring Around the Rosie? I shivered at the thought as a cold chill ran up my spine. Furiously wiping away my tears, I sighed.

“Are you okay?” Lexi whispered softly.

“I’m fucking perfect,” I shot back, a bit too harshly. Lexi flinched at the anger in my voice. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just…I’m fine,” I said softer this time.

Lexi nodded understandably and leaned her head back against the wall.

Great, I was trapped in the bathroom with Lexi Harlow, and not only was I ruining it by being a complete jackass to her, but I was also wallowing in disgusting sadness.

I dug into my bag that was splayed on the ground next to me and put one AirPod in. Hitting shuffle on my phone, the first song started.

Currently playing – Cry by Benson Boone

As much as I loved this song, it was not making me feel better. This song amplified and heightened the emotions I was so desperate to escape from. I needed something to take away the anguish and make me want to get up and fucking dance. Unlocking my phone again, I clicked the “Dance” playlist and hit shuffle. The screen lit up and displayed the words—

Currently playing – Rerun by Honey Revenge

Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on the music and drown out reality. If I were home right now, I would get up and dance my feelings away. Not in a graceful or rhythmic way, but moreso, in a care-free way. I’d just dance away the pain. It didn’t have to be beautiful or elegant; it just had to be true to how I felt. As a kid, I used to perform concerts in front of my mirror, imagining I was on a stage in front of thousands and letting the music dictate my emotions. Sad song? I’d contort my face into the most gut-wrenching expressions and dance with the most passionate extensions of myself. Happy song? I’d smile and jump around without a care in the world. Angry song? I’d stomp my feet and play the worst air guitar in the history of air guitars. There were songs for every emotion, so, most likely, if you were feeling it, there’d be a song for it. Music could give us something to relate to when talking to other people just wasn’t enough. It was just universally understood. Song lyrics and the captivating melodies that accompanied them were the only thing that transcended everything else and allowed us to connect with each other. It also didn’t hurt that music couldn’t abandon you. I’d always believed that the purest way to feel something without thinking about it was to listen to a song that had the same meaning. It’s almost like you could hold those emotions in your hand without letting them affect your heart. That’s how I liked to deal with trauma—an arm's length away. I leaned my head back and allowed my mind to drift away as the song took over.

***

Pulling my phone into my lap, I swiped upward on the screen to unlock it. I opened Instagram only to be bombarded with posts about the earthquake that struck the East Coast. There were two types of reactions—those from the East Coast who were clearly shaken up and those from the West Coast who were laughing at how much everyone was “overreacting.” I knew it wasn’t exactly possible to send out earthquake warnings because they are often so unpredictable, but a little heads-up would’ve been nice. On the East Coast, many of the posts were filled with people expressing how grateful they were to be alive after such a near-death experience, while a handful of others were sending out love to their families and friends, praying for their safety. I desperately wanted to comment that God didn’t answer prayers, but I quickly decided against it. I spent my whole life going to church and praying, only to be met with what felt like a slap in the face. If there was a God, he only existed to listen, not to help. I guess the reason I stopped believing in God to begin with, was because I didn’t understand how someone could sit there and watch while the world burned and then refuse to do a damn thing to stop it. I’d heard too many stories about kids dying from cancer, women being raped, or families being torn apart to believe that there was a God. I wish I was still the person I used to be—someone who had faith. But that was all in the past now. Instead of hope, my thoughts were only ever filled with doubt. Regardless of how I felt, it was not my place to impose my own views on other innocent people who were simply trying to wish their families well, so unless someone asked me, I was just gonna keep my own personal beliefs to myself. We all had different ways to cope, so what kind of person would I be if I tried to deny them theirs? I mean, my methods probably weren’t suitable for everyone either. If it were anyone else stuck in a room with no way out, they probably wouldn’t be this calm and detached, but I was used to it. I had always been trapped in more ways than one. Being stuck in an airport bathroom was just what it felt like to be trapped in a more physical sense.

I looked around, examining the walls, hoping to see a small door appear that would lead me out of this small enclosure. Actually, you know what? If I was hoping for things, then I’d hope for that small door to lead to fucking Narnia or something. But, of course, there was no secret passageway. The only way to leave was the same way that we came. We were stuck, and seeing as how I lashed out at the only other person in here, I probably wouldn’t be talking to help ease my stress. It wasn’t that I wanted to discuss the problems that plagued my mind, but talking to someone about literally anything else would distract me from all the noise in my head. If I had to choose whether to be trapped in a room full of tigers or be trapped in my head with my own thoughts, I’d definitely choose the tigers.

While still scanning the bathroom, my eyes landed on Lexi. Within the span of a few minutes, I was already so consumed with my own personal shit that I completely forgot I was in the same room as a major celebrity. It was almost as if my mind morphed her into some random, unknowable stranger who just so happened to be sitting across from me. It's crazy how clouded your vision can become when you are lost deep inside your own thoughts. Lexi was sitting with her phone on her thighs and scrolling through what seemed to be Twitter. I watched as she casually looked through several posts and laughed quietly while reading them. Her nails tapped away at the screen, causing a clicking noise to be heard when the two came into contact. The steady rise and fall of her chest drew my attention away from her hands. I got lost watching her movements. Without meaning to, I began practically ogling her. Somehow, as though it were planned, the next song that played was by Lexi.

Currently playing – No Apologies by Lexi Harlow

I let out a small chuckle at the funny coincidence. Lexi glanced at me while furrowing her eyebrows. I quickly darted my eyes in the other direction while trying to keep my head down and avoid looking at her. I failed miserably, considering that not even a full minute later, I sneakily peeked back over at her. She was focused on her phone again. As much as I wanted to ask for an autograph or a picture, now didn’t exactly seem like the best time to bring it up. Instead, I opted to discreetly open my phone and snap a quick picture of her. I internally panicked, thinking I had left my flash on, but thank God I didn’t.

Glancing down at the photo, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was in a room with Lexi Harlow. She was genuinely one of the most underappreciated artists, even though she was easily the most talented. Also, side note: how the fuck was she so beautiful? I had the biggest crush on her in middle school, but at the time, I don’t think I understood what those feelings meant. Being gay was something I refused to acknowledge when I was younger because it was drilled into me by the church that it was a sin. Because of that, I just never put much emphasis on sexuality, and even now, I still wouldn’t exactly say I was gay, but being here was definitely solidifying the fact that I wasn’t straight either. When I got older, I realized that who you fell in love with was never a sin. This only proves that my celebrity crush when I was thirteen was, without a doubt, not only Zayn Malik, but also Lexi Harlow. That’s not to say that I didn't have a crush on Lexi now, but in middle school, somehow, dating someone famous seemed more attainable. As time went on, you’d realize that never happened…but neither did being trapped in an airport bathroom with your celebrity crush, yet here I was.

That’s when I caught myself staring again. I wasn’t trying to, but my eyes always somehow found their way back to her.

But just like the lyrics of her song stated, I had “No Apologies” for staring at a world-famous celebrity who happened to be five feet away from me. I mean, who knew if I’d ever meet another celebrity in my lifetime?

Lexi seemed too preoccupied with her own thoughts, so I thought I was safe, but that’s when I noticed she had stopped scrolling and her phone screen was black. A small smile grazed her lips.

Oh no…now I’m looking at her lips.

With her head still lowered and facing her lap, she started to speak. “Take a photo. It will last longer.”

Lexi

My eyes widened. I removed the singular earbud I had put in earlier and threw it into my purse, which was sprawled on the floor next to me. I felt my cheeks turn red as all the blood drained from my face. I mean, I guess I could've been a tad bit more discreet, but it was Lexi Harlow. How could I not stare? Actually, that's a good point. Anyone trapped in a bathroom with a celebrity would stare. I felt my embarrassment subside as my confidence grew.

No apologies, remember?

“Actually,” I paused with a smirk on my face. “I already did.” Whipping out my phone, I turned the screen toward her showing the picture I had taken earlier, featuring my master photography skills.

She let out a hearty laugh and said, “Hey, you could've just asked for a picture! I look like shit in that one!”

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