Page 81 of Fruit
I laugh a little, remembering Joshua protesting at my penchant for sayingI’m not telling you what to dowhilst kind of telling him what to do.
“Okay. I get you. Thanks, Isadoro,” I say, bumping my hip into him slightly. He smiles back.
*****
I think about it. About Isadoro’s words. About how he, out all people, felt the need to speak out.
I think about the feeling inside me. How it seems less like an emotion than a sensory experience. The press and the taste and the scent of it. The dizzying clarity of it. It’s a want and a having, a vulnerable core cradled by safety.
Images start to fill my head. I’m commuting home or lying in bed and I’ll think of Sebastián. Not just as he is now, but how we could be together if we admitted what we have. It’s almost strange, this need to acknowledge the truth instead of just knowing it and keeping it tucked inside. As if fact couldn’t exist until it’s solidified by our frank eyes. But I want the mirage that comes with that. With knowing that Sebastián is mine, that he’s safe, that we’ll travel this winding road together. Knowing it’s a joint bed that will wrap up our days. That we’ll live together one day, Nina’s parents united. That I’ll get to show him every one of my drawings until the day I die, and he’ll look at them with the same depth he always does.
I gorge on image after imagined image. The sweet tartness of them fills my mouth, but they don’t satisfy, disappearing before I can swallow them down.
If I want to be fed, I’ll have to pick the fruit off the tree myself.
**********
Sebastián is a little strange when I next see him at the youth centre. He’s reverted to the stone-faced man I first met, but things are too busy at the club for me to seek him out. I head to his apartment the following Saturday, still under the pretext of picking Nina up. I lean in to kiss him as he opens the door, but he moves away slightly so that my lips land on his cheek instead.
“Hey,” I greet him.
“Hey. Come in,” he says.
I step inside and shed my bag and coat as he moves silently to sit on the couch. I follow slowly, leaving some space between us as I take a seat too.
“You okay?” I ask, my stomach churning.
“Yeah,” he says, but then he looks at me, and I know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do this anymore.”
I stare at him. My mind has gone blank.
“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he means.
“I just think…the whole ‘friends with benefits thing’. I think we should slow down.”
Slow down. I’d been ready to race ahead.
I open my mouth, but I can’t find the words. I’m completely blindsided. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I’ve read the stories and seen the films and witnessed relationships break apart. There’s supposed to be some kind of lead-up, a natural degradation preceding the end, but I hadn’t seen this coming.
It doesn’t make any sense. We didn’t fight. There was no neglect, no resentment. I had felt safe with him. Completely.
“I, uhm…” What could I say? “Can I ask…why? Did I do something…?”
“No. It’s nothing—you didn’t do anything. I just think…I just don’t think this is working.” His voice is quiet but firm. It falls like an anvil on my chest.
“I…I mean, yeah. Sure,” I say, but I’m not sure of anything. I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t get the pieces of our time together to fit into what he’s saying.
My head gets stuck on the phrase. What isn’t working? Did something break, or is there something I missed from the start? And he’s not even dumping me. We weren’t really together in the first place.
A feeling rises inside me. I feel like such a fucking fool. I’d been sosure.
I’d thought he loved me too.
“What—what about Nina?” I ask.
“You can keep her. She likes you more, anyway,” he says, nodding towards where I suddenly realise her stuff is already all packed up.
I gape at him. He’s going to hand her over? Just like that?
