Sure enough, there is a park. Not only that, there is an enormous lake. I frown. How did I not know there was a lake here? God, I’m so oblivious. I take a seat on one of many benches and stare out at the water. The sun is high, casting sharp rays onto subtle ripples in the water. I turn up the volume on the background noise in my ear and watch the bits of white light fluttering before me. It is such an expansive circle of water I can barely make out the houses on the opposite side. Dark-blue water beckons only feet from where I sit, and I think how much more enticing the water is than the stringy blades of grass that meet it. The lake has a tranquility that I envy. How deep is it? I wonder. Deep enough to swim? Deep enough to disappear? Deep enough to drown?
But I do nothing but watch. I do not think.
I do not remember.
I do not plan.
I empty my mind until I am barren, until I don’t feel like me, until I don’t feel like anyone.
I just exist. Barely.
At some point, I close my eyes and drift further into myself. This may not be peace, this mind-set I’m in, but it’s stable, and so I stay, refusing to leave even when my hands begin to chill. Eventually, though, the light filtering through my eyelids fades, and that pulls me back.
When I open my eyes, I realize that it’s close to sunset. I have evidently been on this bench for hours. Not that it matters, really. Shadows are falling over the water, making the blue closer to black. I turn away as my vision begins to refocus on the real world.
I wish I liked the real world more. I wish I could embrace life. I wish for so many things, and I have no idea if it’s possible for me to have them. I could try, maybe, but I have no clue where to start.
I shake my head and snap out of my dreaming. It was dumb to go so far from campus, and now I have an hour walk home in temperatures that are dropping into the low fifties. I cross my arms for warmth, and I make my way back to the main street. I forgot that traffic is barred from this street after five o’clock, and so now people wander freely down the middle of the road. College students are already invading the area, ready to hit the bars for the night, and I keep my head down, focused on getting past this scene as quickly as possible. A few people bump against me, but I don’t react, even when a burly guy knocks against my sore shoulder. In fact, I feel nothing. I suppose that should be concerning.
I’m midway through the chaos, still keeping my attention on the cobbled bricks under my feet, when someone grabs my arm and drags me off the sidewalk. “Can you help? We just need one more person. It’ll only take a few minutes, promise! He’s my brother, and I swear he’s cool.” The girl’s voice is friendly and animated, but I look up reluctantly.
“Um, what?” I say rather blearily and give her a cursory glance.
Her honey-colored hair is tucked behind her ears in a short bob, and a strand comes loose as she practically dances backward while tugging at my hand. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Just sign this. It’s a release form, nothing crazy.”
I barely hear what she’s saying, because I’m too busy trying not to trip over my own feet and also considering how to escape. She stops after a few yards and grabs a clipboard from her bag. “Name?” she asks.
“Huh? Me? Oh.” I have no idea what’s going on. Probably a petition of some sort. “Allison Dennis,” I mutter.
She has me sign my name. I hope I didn’t endorse a group supporting whale hunting or tempeh-only meals being served in the cafeteria. “So, all you do is sit in a chair and hold eye contact for a hundred and eighty seconds,” she says. “No talking, no vocalizing of any kind, no looking away, no touching. Just don’t break eye contact.”
I snap out of it. “What are you talking about?” There are too many people gathered here, and I want more than anything to run, but I suspect she is the sort who would chase after me. Better to placate her and then make my exit.
“It’s just a social experiment of sorts. It’s cool. I’m Kerry, by the way. I take the video.” She smiles broadly. “Now, go. Sit before it gets too dark.” Kerry pivots my body toward a chair at a small card table.
“Video? Wait, no! I don’t want to do any social experi—” I start to protest, but before I know it, she’s plunked me down.
There is a matching empty chair across from me, and I clutch my hands together as mounting anxiety takes over. Clearly, I am doing something besides signing a petition. What did she say? A hundred and eighty seconds? And I have to look at somebody? Great. But that’s only three minutes. In three minutes, I will be done with whatever stupid thing this is, and I can go back to my room, crawl into bed, and disappear again. I want to return to where I was only a short time ago. That place of nowhere. I fidget with my fingers and concentrate on spinning the rings I wear on my right hand while my foot taps repeatedly and uncontrollably.
Even without looking up, I see someone take the seat across from me, and hesitantly I lift my head.
Esben sits in front of me.
My insides clench; a surge of adrenaline and a sense of danger take over. Everything in me tenses and braces. For what, I don’t know.
A hint of recognition crosses Esben’s face. He remembers me from yesterday, a fact that only serves to stress me out more. This is the first time I’ve looked at him head-on, and his presence both alienates and beckons me. Instantly, I am horribly ashamed because I want to run to him and I also want to shove him so forcefully that he careens back in his chair and cannot do whatever we’re about to do. Instead, I try to tolerate the ice that now seems to be running through my veins. Esben shifts in his seat to get comfortable and casually runs a hand through his mop of curls, pushing the hair from his face so that I have a full view of how irritatingly striking he is. I frown. He appears utterly relaxed, now leaning back in his chair as though this bizarre arrangement is the most normal thing in the world.
My desire to bolt is now threefold.
I could run. I don’t have to sit here.
I retain the power of free will despite the circumstances.
Yet, I don’t leave. Inexplicably, I am tied to this chair.
I turn and look for Kerry, but she’s already poised with a video camera, standing in a now-silent and very large and observant crowd that has formed a circle around us. As if I’m not already feeling out of my element, the expectant silence that spreads among them is unnerving.
Esben speaks softly, his voice incredibly silky and reassuring. “You ready? One hundred and eighty seconds.”
CHAPTER 5
ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SECONDS
One hundred and eighty seconds. That’s not long. That’s nothing.
Slowly I shift my gaze. I start at his hands, both resting casually on the table, and then move to the bracelets. A few inches to the right, and I see the bright blue of his soft shirt over his chest. I lift my chin, see the stubble on his cheeks, the barest smile on his lips.
Fine, I tell myself. He’s just a boy. He can’t do anything to me in three minutes.
I meet his eyes, and in the beginning of the sunset light, their amber color is even more brilliant. He raises his eyebrows, silently questioning.
I glare at him and nod, as though he’s challenged me to a fight for my life. As though getting through the next three minutes will somehow make me less weak than I am. “One hundred and eighty seconds,” I affirm.
Bring it.
There is a blip in his confidence. But he gives me an inviting smile that I cannot take personally. He’s probably done this countless times. I’m just another participant.
Esben signals Kerry, and she says, “Time starts now.”
Ten seconds. His eyes practically bore through me. Esben is not screwing around here. He means it when he makes direct eye contact. My hands tighten together. Despite how much I hate what is happening and how awful it is to force myself to not look away, I keep my expression blank, and I do not break from him. I don’t know how I will get through this. He’s making it worse by looking so at ease, so comfortable taking me in. But I will
not back down.
It’s simple really, I remind myself. Just keep staring, stay solid and unbreakable. Feel nothing, because there’s no reason to.
Twenty-five seconds. I know little about him, but I do know for sure that he is nothing like me. That he is everything I am not. And mostly that this is an idiotic exercise in staring at a near stranger. After another few seconds, I resent him. I resent everything about him. Because, as his eyes are locked on to mine, I feel as though he sees more than the blue of my irises. And that makes me nervous. Vulnerable. Angry. He has somehow violated my protective shield, and in retaliation, I lock down even more.
Thirty-three seconds. I can’t block out my growing rage. How dare he put me in this position? Me, of all people? He reeks of freedom and generosity and openness. And I hate him right now. And he must sense that, because his head moves back ever so slightly.
Fifty seconds. I have hardened my look, but it is draining me. It’s more of a struggle than I would have thought to dislike him. Esben’s look is gentle, soulful even, and I am wearing down, because even more than his expression, it’s the feel of him that’s starting to wreck me. It’s undeniable that, as much as I want to dislike him, he exudes an energy, a spirit that overtakes me with calm. The area around his eyes moves just a bit, as though he wants to smile but he’s stopping himself. Somehow, he is feeling good; he is lifted by the show of whatever he has created in this face-to-face experiment. Trying to move as little as possible, to convey that I haven’t been affected, I inhale deeply through my nose and release the breath slowly through barely parted lips. I can’t hate him. As much as I want to, I just can’t. How can I hate someone else’s happiness? Or, I realize, joy? That’s it. Esben has joy about him.
Maybe what I feel is envy for what he has that I don’t. I try to lock down my emotions.
Seventy-three seconds. Despite my resistance, I cannot help but be pulled into this. Into him. I’m sure the onlookers are making noise, but I can’t hear anything except the even ebb and flow of my breathing. An unfamiliar sense of peace and relaxation has taken over me, and I let it stay. It’s so rare to feel like this, especially with someone else along for the experience. Yes, I can get to some version of quiet on my own, but it’s more about dead space. Nothingness. The absence of pain. What I am engulfed in right now is different. Not only am I swimming in a new version of serenity, but I have a partner in this. Esben is with me, no question.
Ninety-four seconds. Esben tips his head ever so slightly, as though he’s seen something in me. How could he?
But quickly, I understand. Whether I like it or not, he is taking in pieces of me, just as I am taking in pieces of him, too. Without talking, I am still internalizing this boy in front of me. I study his look more intensely.
Oh. It’s not that he sees something in me; he’s searching for something in me.
Esben must feel how high my walls are, and I am equally ashamed and grateful that my secret is out. A kind of disturbing relief washes through me. For the first time, I believe that someone wants to experience me. To value me.
One hundred and eight seconds. The openness in his demeanor, his willingness to be so present, to want an exchange of some sort, is stronger than I am. But he has no idea what he’s asking of me, what he’ll find. My attitude shifts. You want to play? I dare him. You want to use me for some kind of class project or whatever this is? You want inside my head? Fine. You have no idea how messed up I am. Go ahead. Drown like I do. I step out from behind my walls.
For the first time, I look at him as I am. I give him me. I’ll feel everything that I do on a daily basis and send it his way. We’ll see if he can take it. Wordlessly, I can slay him with my anger and pain. And that’s what I want. To take him down, to lash out at him in anger.
It takes only a few heartbeats for the twinkle in his eyes to dissipate. For a moment, it’s as though the wind has been knocked out of him. I know that look because it’s how I feel most of the time. His energy is more serious now, more intense. As if to punish him, to drive him away, I concentrate on how much I loathe myself, my inability to be anything resembling what he is. I flash through every house I’ve lived in, every school, and every family that was never really mine. Across the board, my life has been an accumulation of dysfunctional puzzle pieces that will never fit together. I will him to feel my repeated traumas.
One hundred and twenty-nine seconds. Yet what Esben is doing cannot be ignored. Even by me. Not for one second has he left me. Despite the horrific energy I am hurling at him, Esben is holding us together emotionally, giving me an unspoken promise that he will not drop me. The traumas that bind me every day, every hour, every minute soften until I barely feel their presence.
For reasons I cannot comprehend, I am lost in him. Safe. Right now, I am without a past that I hate. Right now, I am only here with him.
One hundred and forty-seven seconds. Even without taking my eyes from his, I see his shoulders move with his breathing. In addition to his kindness and sincerity, there is now an added element. Desperation? Need? He is not, I suddenly understand, freakishly perfect.
Esben has his own vulnerabilities. Apparently, we do have something in common.
One hundred and sixty seconds. We are engaged in a form of intimacy that scares the absolute hell out of me. It’s as if there is a weight on my chest that I want to shove off, and I’ve never been this terrified before.
Or this whole and hopeful and connected.
My body starts to tremble. I want more of what I’m feeling, and I also want none of it.
I don’t want to be so scared all the time; I don’t want to be terrified that the earth could splinter apart under my feet at any given second. I want to be happy, really happy. Dammit. If only I could hide from the shards of hope that are piercing through my defenses. I feel tears build, and I clench my jaw to fight them back. Esben lifts his head a bit and rubs his lips together. There is a mix of concern and empathy and promise and . . . oh God, there’s yearning . . . in his expression, and I know I am not mistaken about the shimmer that appears in his eyes. He takes a hard breath, as if trying to contain himself, and the sound of his jagged exhale courses through my body.
He, like me, is fighting something.
Together, we battle.
One hundred and seventy-three seconds. Emotion is going to swallow us whole, and I cannot survive this intensity any longer. I may break down under the ache that has settled over my heart. It will happen; I know it. I will succumb to the force, the pull, and I won’t emerge victorious.
It becomes hard to breathe normally as terror rips through me. I’m going to collapse because I am goddamn alive, and I have barely felt life until this. Until him.
Kerry’s voice is timid. “Time,” she says softly.
We both stand. Esben simultaneously kicks his chair over and flips the table on its side, and I choke back a sob as we rush to each other. Esben moves like lightning, and his body crashes against mine as he wraps his arms about my waist and lifts my feet off the ground as though we have waited an eternity for this, as though this is a reunion that couldn’t be delayed any longer. I throw my arms around his neck, embracing him more tightly than I’ve hugged anyone. In fact, it’s been ages since I’ve had human contact this close, and the feel of him is almost too much. I cling to Esben with a blind, irrational trust, operating solely on instinct. Keeping me against him, he eases my feet onto the ground, and I knot my fingers together to make sure our hold doesn’t break. He is shaking, maybe even more than I am, his breathing accelerated and uneven, and I bury my face against his chest. I could hide here forever. Or maybe it wouldn’t be hiding. Maybe it would be living. Maybe . . . maybe . . .
I can’t. I can’t go there.
But my hands involuntarily move over his shoulders until I am tucking my arms between us, pressing my palms against his chest. I see what my touch looks like against him, how my hands sculpt to the shape of him, how I gather the fabric of his shirt and pull him in closer. Hi
s head dips down, and I respond by raising mine until his cheek is pressed against the side of my face, his embrace never faltering. I like the roughness of his stubble, the sound of his trembling breath, and the security of his grip on me. And even more, I like the heat of his mouth and the soft way he moves his lips when they brush against my cheek.
Because I am not myself, I don’t have the sense to stop when I turn my mouth to his. His lips are poised as though waiting for me, as though he’d known what I would do. We move seamlessly into a kiss. It’s not slow; it’s not gentle. It is a kiss filled with unexplainable need, a kiss seeking salvation and healing and surrender and . . .
God, I can’t think. I can’t do anything but submerge myself in the taste of him. His hands go to the side of my face while his lips move against mine, and his tongue continues to send a flood of heat through me. I cannot get enough of this kiss, my starvation making me crazy and compelling me to slide my hands to the back of his head to ensure he does not stop.
Because if he stops kissing me, this will be over. Everything will be over. I will return to a life I am not equipped for.
That’s all that I can process, all that I can understand right now.
So Esben needs to keep kissing me.
His thumbs move over my cheeks, then under my eyes, and I feel him wipe away tears. One of his hands brushes back my hair, and he softens the kiss. His lips begin to move more slowly, more passionately, more precisely. He can’t let this end either; I can taste that in him. I don’t know how long we are entrenched in each other like this, but it isn’t long enough.