Touch isn't safe. And to some people, the thought of never being able to enjoy a touch again, never being able to truly relish in a warm embrace again, being too afraid to comfort your best friend again, is an upsetting thought. And they're right. It is upsetting. No, it's more than upsetting. It's horrible, absolutely horrible.
And you may try and tell yourself you'll get used to it and pretty soon it'll become habit, or that you don't really need touch anyway. But that is completely untrue. Regardless of what you may think, there are many instances where touch is inevitable, or the lack of touch is painful to all parties.
For instance, my mom is standing in front of me right now, teary eyed and emotional, explaining to me why she's so teary eyed and emotional.
"I just worry about you girls so much, Nellie," she says, wiping a tear off her cheek.
And I want more than anything to reach out and hug her, and tell her how sorry I am, how she doesn't need to worry about me, and that I'm fine.
But I can't.
Partly because well, I'm not fine, and partly because the pain that follows a touch, especially with one filled with so much emotion, is unbearable, and just thinking about it brings me to tears.
"Mom, really, it's okay. We're both fine," my twin sister, Blake, says to her, as she props up next to me on the bed and reaches out to hug my mom. She eyes me with understanding as she tries to calm my mother down.
"It's just – ever since the – accident you two seem – so, so – distant," she chokes out between sobs.
I close my eyes as a tear escapes down my cheek. Thinking about the accident has a tendency to do this to me. I get overemotional, teary eyes, among other things.
Because I can barely remember what life was like before the accident. It seems so distant; thinking about it is like watching a movie in my head, of two completely different girls, two completely different lives. But just one memory's all it takes. One insignificant time, not too long ago, plays out like a movie in my head.
"Ah, come on Nells, who's going to catch us out here anyway?" Blake asks, offering me the shiny silver flask.
I frown at her, not exactly disappointed, because this is the kind of stuff teenagers do, right? The kind of shit teenage twin sisters are supposed to get into in the wee hours of the night, long after their parents have gone to bed. So I'm not exactly disappointed, just disapproving.
"I don't think so, Blake. I'm so tired, I can barely stand," I sigh and wipe the dirt off a stack of bricks so I can sit down.
"You're a horrible liar. And geez, we're in the storm cellar for God's sake. Even if mom and dad do wake up, this is the last place they'll think to look for us." She brushes the hair out of her eyes and shoves the flask at me.
And as usual, I give up. I take a big swig and wince as the alcohol burns its way down my throat, warming my insides almost instantly.
"There, you happy?" I glare at her stubbornly.
But she just laughs at me. And if there's one thing I must admit, it's that I'd do just about anything if it meant making her laugh. Because Blake just doesn't look like Blake if she's not smiling or laughing.
"And where'd you get this stuff anyway?" I ask, as I take another swig. And I can't help but smile as I watch her continue to laugh, grabbing at her sides.
"The liquor cabinet, of course," she manages to say.
"And you don't think they'll notice its missing?"
"Naw, they've got so much shit in there I doubt they keep track of it all. Isn't it sad when you've reached the point where you're so rich that you can't even keep track of all your stuff?" And she grabs the flask from my hands and brings it to her mouth, before breaking into another fit of hysterics.
She hadn't been down here long before I came, thirty minutes tops. But that didn't matter, Blake was definitely a light weight, and a funny drunk.
So we stay like that for another half hour, laughing at nothing and sipping on the flask until the alcohols gone and we're both lying on the ground, watching the ceiling spin above us.
"You know, Nellie," Blake whispers, as she loops her arm in mine.
"Hmm?" I mumble.
"No matter what happens, I'm always right here," she says on a more serious note.
"What do you mean 'no matter what happens?' What's about to happen?" I ask, growing slightly worried.
"Nothing's going to happen. I just mean… if it does, ya know?"
"No, I don't know. Why are you talking like this?" I break free of her arm and prop myself up on my elbow to look at her.
"Nothing, it's just, I don't know Nell, you know… just, shit happens. You watch the news enough to know that. And I'm just saying, okay?" she says, sounding slightly agitated.
"Okay, okay." And I stand up and brush the dirt off my jeans.
"What time is it anyway?" she asks.
"I don't know… pretty late." And I laugh as I help her off the ground and out of the storm cellar.
"Look!" she yells and points toward the sky. "Sun rise." And she smiles brightly, like a kid seeing it for the first time.
"Blake," I laugh, "You've got a little, um, something on your nose."
"What? Where?" and she whips out her phone, attempting to use the glossy screen as a mirror. And failing.
"Right… here" and I wipe at the dirt on her nose. But instead of actually wiping it off, I just smear it down her face. And for the hundredth time that night, I break into a fit of laughter.
"What?" She asks.
But I say nothing, I just laugh until she finally stops trying to figure out what's so funny and laughs with me, and her blue eyes sparkle as tears stream down her cheek. Tears brought on by an outrageous amount of laughter, tears of joy. The best kind of tears.
"Nell?" Blake nudges me a little, sadly, bringing me back to the present.
But all I could think was, when we will we ever have happy tears again. Because the past six months have been filled with nothing but tears, not a single one good or brought on by laughter. And part of me, wishes we could just go grab another flask full of alcohol and lock ourselves in the storm cells. And just spend our lives in there laughing at nothing.
"We're not distant mom, just busy, lots of school work and stuff," and I smile at her, trying to convince her everything's okay, which in a way is lying, but I don't really care.
Either way, it doesn't seem to be working. Tears still flee from her eyes, slowly making their way around her freckled nose, then picking up pace as they race down her cheek, and finally plopping onto my bedspread.
"Hey, why don't we go out and do something this weekend, that'll be fun. We can hang out and catch up, just us girls?" Blake suggests.
Yeah, just as long as there's no physical contact involved, I say to her. But actually, I don't have to say anything. Ever since the accident, it's not necessary for me to even speak to Blake. I can just think something and choose to send it to her, via telepathy.
We'll figure that out later, she tells me.
But my mom's still not smiling, and the tears are stilling soaking up my bedspread.
So I do the only thing I can think of, and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes before I even touch her. But I do touch her. I stand up, and just as I reach out to hug her, Blake yells, don't!
But it's too late, and my arms are already around my mother, hugging her like I've wanted to do for so long. And as much as I'd like to say it's worth it, it's not. Because the pain that's shooting through my whole body is intense, and isn't dying down or easing up. The pain makes me dizzy, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to stop the tears that are flowing freely down my face.
And just when I thought there was nothing left for me to feel but the colossal amounts of pain, I feel something else. Well, everything else. Everything else my mother's felt, the past few months, pain, worry, sorrow.
And I can see the things she's done, the conversations she's had with my father about putting us through more therapy. And then, the arguments she's had with my father over just about everything, and finally the papers she signed just a couple weeks ago, finalizing their divorce.
And then I feel something else, guilt. But this isn't my mother's previous feeling, it's my own feeling. Lots and lots of guilt.
I don't want to see anymore, so I pull away, but the pain still resides. Not as intoxicating as before, but still there. I feel completely drained, and it takes everything I have not to fall over.
"You're right girls," my mom says, finally smiling, " I think a little girls day out is just what we need." And she wipes the last few tears off her face before turning and walking towards the door.
"Nellie," she turns around and says just before she's about to leave, "sweetie, you don't look so good. Are you okay?"
"Mhm… I'm fine," I whisper through clenched teeth.
She smiles at us one last time and leaves the room.
And as soon as she's out of sight, I fall to the floor.
A/N:
How's that for dramatic? Haha, so this is my newest story. I know I have three I'm juggling with, but this one and Sweet Oblivion are the ones I'm really focused on. Give this one a try, I know it's not Sweet Oblivion, but I'm really enjoying writing this one.
So, please read & review, and more importantly… enjoy!
(: