It Doesn't Matter
Linn
She was shaking in my embrace. I could feel my black hoodie getting wetter as she cried, and let my hand caress her back in an attempt to comfort her. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it just grew larger. I wanted to cry. But to cry out of pity felt wrong. I wanted to be a strong person you could rely on with heavy stuff, and not just break down.
She sniffed and looked up on me.
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
Her eyes glittered with tears and she wiped her nose on her sweater as she watched me. Her hair was red, messy and short, and her body felt gaunt in my arms.
How did I look? Which expression did she read in my face? I felt ridiculous. What if she saw that I had had tears in my eyes, that I was weak?
“Yeah, of course you can,” I answered quickly and cleared my throat when I heard how thick my voice was.
She managed a smile and took my hand, which had been lying in her lap.
“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks for being you.”
And how do you react on those words? You were taught to say thank you and smile shyly when someone complemented your clothes, or something else that seemed irrelevant to me. But when someone thanked you for being you, there were no words or facial expression that could outweigh it, even though you felt the same way. Maybe you even felt more. And then the thoughts came;
Maybe she wouldn’t back away if I leaned forward and kissed her? Maybe she would even see it as the right thing to do? Maybe she even wanted me to..?
But, like the coward I was, I just smiled and then we went to bed. She slept over at my place a lot lately. Sometimes she could be gone for weeks, without calling or keeping contact at all. And then, when she came back, we both pretended like she had never been gone.
It was strange, but I didn’t really think about it until afterwards, when we slept side by side again. And it also scared me a little. When she was gone, she never felt completely gone. But when she came back, I felt whole again. Like a part of me that was missing finally came back. It was such a strange feeling, that it felt like no one really knew what I meant.
And when I really thought about it, it felt like everyone acted weird as soon as she was with me. It seemed as if the others felt like they had to pretend…
I, myself, just felt confident and happy when she was around. But if I was hanging out with someone other than her (which rarely happened) they always left and shot me a confused glare. No one seemed to like her at all.
The next morning, the phone woke me up. It vibrated annoyingly on the night table, and I grunted in frustration as I stretched my arm for it, and pressed the green button.
“Hello?” I answered with a raspy voice I barely recognized.
“Hi,” a voice I knew well said. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I mumbled sleepily.
My eyes swept over my room. I had been living here for a long time, but still it felt so startling unfamiliar. The worst thing with it, was that it was so bright. There was a window next to the bed. From it, the sun shone in and made all the white furniture even more scary. It was as if they were staring at me with accusing eyes because I wasn’t as clean and nice as they were. I blinked and let my eyes travel to her relaxed frame.
There she was beside me, so close that our legs were touching, and her arm was resting along my chest. It was a comfortable feeling, to have her so close. It was the only thing that made me feel at home in this unfamiliar room.
“Jacob? Hello?” The voice in the phone sounded impatient.
“Huh?” I managed.
“Is Linnea with you again?” A deep sigh followed that question.
I frowned, and got a sudden feeling of discomfort. As soon as someone asked that question, I, for an unknown reason, felt bad; because I knew I was going to say yes.
“She’s here,” I answered. For some reason I felt wide awake. “But she’s sleeping.”
It was as if I could hear, or at least assume, that the person I was talking to nodded to himself.
Every morning before Linn woke up, he called. It was something we had agreed on; one session a day over to phone to make me ’feel better’. I was feeling great, so I couldn’t comprehend what everyone went on about. To talk with my psychiatrist was like talking to a normal friend, but it bothered me that people exaggerated everything I said.
As soon as I felt a little down, they acted as if I just told them that I was going to kill myself. And then that irritating attendant question came along; “has it anything to do with Linnea?”
Before my parents had met Linn, they were totally cool about us being friends. They were just happy that I had friends at all.
But that night she slept over for the first time, they acted like they didn’t know how to react or behave.
A week later I ended up here.
Linn turned in they bed and yawned loudly, at the same time as I hung up the phone.
“Good morning,” she whispered, but didn’t open her eyes.
I always thought she looked her best in the morning. She looked so innocent and problem free. Her freckles were more prominent because she wasn’t wearing any make-up to cover them. Her hair was in a charming mess, and it was hard to keep from ruffling it up even more.
“Good morning,” I sighed happily, and felt like I really meant it.
She was the one that med me mean it. She was the one that made want to mean everything.
And in a moment like this it didn’t matter that people stared, laughed or didn’t know what to say. Now it was just the two of us that mattered, that we were together.
Yeah, it barely even mattered that everyone else claimed that she was just an illusion. ~
She sniffed and looked up on me.
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
Her eyes glittered with tears and she wiped her nose on her sweater as she watched me. Her hair was red, messy and short, and her body felt gaunt in my arms.
How did I look? Which expression did she read in my face? I felt ridiculous. What if she saw that I had had tears in my eyes, that I was weak?
“Yeah, of course you can,” I answered quickly and cleared my throat when I heard how thick my voice was.
She managed a smile and took my hand, which had been lying in her lap.
“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks for being you.”
And how do you react on those words? You were taught to say thank you and smile shyly when someone complemented your clothes, or something else that seemed irrelevant to me. But when someone thanked you for being you, there were no words or facial expression that could outweigh it, even though you felt the same way. Maybe you even felt more. And then the thoughts came;
Maybe she wouldn’t back away if I leaned forward and kissed her? Maybe she would even see it as the right thing to do? Maybe she even wanted me to..?
But, like the coward I was, I just smiled and then we went to bed. She slept over at my place a lot lately. Sometimes she could be gone for weeks, without calling or keeping contact at all. And then, when she came back, we both pretended like she had never been gone.
It was strange, but I didn’t really think about it until afterwards, when we slept side by side again. And it also scared me a little. When she was gone, she never felt completely gone. But when she came back, I felt whole again. Like a part of me that was missing finally came back. It was such a strange feeling, that it felt like no one really knew what I meant.
And when I really thought about it, it felt like everyone acted weird as soon as she was with me. It seemed as if the others felt like they had to pretend…
I, myself, just felt confident and happy when she was around. But if I was hanging out with someone other than her (which rarely happened) they always left and shot me a confused glare. No one seemed to like her at all.
The next morning, the phone woke me up. It vibrated annoyingly on the night table, and I grunted in frustration as I stretched my arm for it, and pressed the green button.
“Hello?” I answered with a raspy voice I barely recognized.
“Hi,” a voice I knew well said. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I mumbled sleepily.
My eyes swept over my room. I had been living here for a long time, but still it felt so startling unfamiliar. The worst thing with it, was that it was so bright. There was a window next to the bed. From it, the sun shone in and made all the white furniture even more scary. It was as if they were staring at me with accusing eyes because I wasn’t as clean and nice as they were. I blinked and let my eyes travel to her relaxed frame.
There she was beside me, so close that our legs were touching, and her arm was resting along my chest. It was a comfortable feeling, to have her so close. It was the only thing that made me feel at home in this unfamiliar room.
“Jacob? Hello?” The voice in the phone sounded impatient.
“Huh?” I managed.
“Is Linnea with you again?” A deep sigh followed that question.
I frowned, and got a sudden feeling of discomfort. As soon as someone asked that question, I, for an unknown reason, felt bad; because I knew I was going to say yes.
“She’s here,” I answered. For some reason I felt wide awake. “But she’s sleeping.”
It was as if I could hear, or at least assume, that the person I was talking to nodded to himself.
Every morning before Linn woke up, he called. It was something we had agreed on; one session a day over to phone to make me ’feel better’. I was feeling great, so I couldn’t comprehend what everyone went on about. To talk with my psychiatrist was like talking to a normal friend, but it bothered me that people exaggerated everything I said.
As soon as I felt a little down, they acted as if I just told them that I was going to kill myself. And then that irritating attendant question came along; “has it anything to do with Linnea?”
Before my parents had met Linn, they were totally cool about us being friends. They were just happy that I had friends at all.
But that night she slept over for the first time, they acted like they didn’t know how to react or behave.
A week later I ended up here.
Linn turned in they bed and yawned loudly, at the same time as I hung up the phone.
“Good morning,” she whispered, but didn’t open her eyes.
I always thought she looked her best in the morning. She looked so innocent and problem free. Her freckles were more prominent because she wasn’t wearing any make-up to cover them. Her hair was in a charming mess, and it was hard to keep from ruffling it up even more.
“Good morning,” I sighed happily, and felt like I really meant it.
She was the one that med me mean it. She was the one that made want to mean everything.
And in a moment like this it didn’t matter that people stared, laughed or didn’t know what to say. Now it was just the two of us that mattered, that we were together.
Yeah, it barely even mattered that everyone else claimed that she was just an illusion. ~