Take My Hand, Just Hold On

That was the world’s longest flight ever. My mind kept flashing from worry for my dad, to exhilaration from kissing Brenna, to absolute fucking dread from kissing Brenna. And it kept going around in circles for 11 hours. Mostly stuck on Brenna, to be honest. I’m sure you could construe this as me being a terrible son - thinking about a girl while my dad’s lying in a hospital somewhere – but maybe I’m just deflecting more serious thoughts. Probably not, though.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around what happened. Or how it happened. I’m certain she was the one who kissed me, yet somehow I felt responsible. I felt like I needed to call her and apologize, tell her I wasn’t thinking. And I wasn’t. I acted. Her lips were on mine and my mind when blank save for one thought: Make it last. Because right before it happened, I knew that would be the last time I would taste her lips on mine. Or at least, I thought it would be at the time. After all this time in my head, I haven’t a clue anymore. I thought I understood where she was at, and where I fit into this all for her. But maybe I was wrong; maybe just being friends wasn’t all she wanted or needed? But it doesn’t make sense to me that she would want anything more.

See how my mind is working? It’s constantly going in circles. I hate when things get so fucking complicated. All I want to do at this point is call her and have a chat about all this. Because I didn’t want to go back to LA in a few weeks and find her completely shattered again. That’s what I’m mostly worried about, really. The last time we said farewell at an airport we kissed too… And, well, that didn’t end up great.

But I can’t call her, can I? What man calls up a girl to talk about his feelings about one single kiss they shared? Fuck, I’m a woman. I’m a god damn woman.

I look around after realizing I’ve been walking with my head down for a couple minutes and wonder where I am. I finally spot a sign pointing me to the exit – at least I could skip baggage claim, having just my carry-on. I take out my mobile and turn it on; it’s just after half twelve. I could call her. I told her I’d call when I got in… Roaming charges might be a bitch.

I decide to send a text: Landed safe… Call you later, OK? That’s good… I can call her when I get home.

As I come into the arrival’s gate I look up and am surprised to see a familiar face, “Mum!”

She smiles and runs toward me, throwing her arms around me tightly. I give her a quick hug before stepping back and asking, “How is he?”

Her smile falters a little as we start heading to her car, “He’s… stable. They’re waiting a couple days to do a triple bypass surgery; they hope he’ll be stronger by then.”

I nod, “Are we going back to the hospital tonight?”

“Visiting hours are over. I could’ve stayed the night, but your father’s out cold… So I thought I’d come pick you up instead. We can go back tomorrow morning.”

I feel my mobile vibrate as I step into the car to see Brenna’s name flashing on my screen. My heart starts racing as relief washes over me – at least she’s still talking to me. I hope. I stare at the screen until it goes black, afraid to flip it open and see what she’s written.

“Robert?” I hear my mother’s questioning tone and I lift my head to look at her. “You’re looking at that phone like it’s going to kill you,” she jokes.

I let out a light laugh and shake my head. “I completely forgot what I was doing, that’s all,” I tell her. I lied, but who wants to explain these things to their mum? I guess there’s nothing left to do but actually look at the message now.

I flip open my phone and read: Sounds good. Hope all is well… xx. I look out my window and watch as the buildings fly past. Her text didn’t reveal any indication of her falling apart. But, then, when does a text ever reveal anything that the sender doesn’t want it to? I’ll have to wait until I can call her, and until then I’ll just have to hope for the best.

“Who’s the girl?” my mum asks after a few minutes of silence. I throw her a questioning glance, having not mentioned anything to her. She smiles, “It’s kind of obvious from the way you’re brooding. Plus, she answered your phone in the middle of the night.”

I shake my head, “It’s not really like that, mum. We’re friends. I just happened to be staying at her place last night.”

“Why so gloomy, then?”

I didn’t want to be having this conversation with anyone, let alone my mum. Who wants to explain the fact that they are completely in to someone who is both emotionally and physically unavailable – and have good reason to be that way? I don’t understand why I still have these feelings for her, after everything she’s gone through. I really did think I could just be her friend and these feelings wouldn’t surface again. Of course, I suppose they never really left. I opt for another lie, “I’m just worried about dad, mum. That’s all.”

The ride to my parent’s house barely took 20 minutes with such little traffic, and nearly as soon as I walked in I was asking my mum if I could make a call. Of course she said it was fine, and I had to stop myself from running to the phone out of pure worry and uncertainty.

I wasn’t sure I was going to mention the kiss, even as I dialed her number. It rang four times before a tentative, “Hello?” came on.

“Hello, love,” I smile for a brief second before I realised I said ‘love’ again. Must stop slipping up on that god damn word. “How are you?” I ask after skipping a beat.

She laughs. A genuine laugh, as far as I can tell. “I like that you’re the one with the more current problem, and yet you’re still worried about me. I’m doing fine, though, Robert. How are you?”

“Just because I have my own issues now doesn’t trivialize your problems,” I respond, getting less worried as I spoke to her more. “But, anyway, I’m okay. I have to wait until the morning to actually go see him, though.”

We continued chatting for another ten minutes before ending the call. And if there was one thing I learned from it, it was that she was still hanging on fine. I was happy for that. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself for the entire conversation. Because, honestly, I was just a tiny bit disheartened by the fact that she didn’t seem to be thinking about our kiss in the slightest. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the perfectly pleasant conversation we’d just had.

And somehow that made me want her more. Fuck.