Connecting Hands.

I remember seeing him for the first time. I was blown away to be honest. My friends were all blown away too. He was different, you could just see it in his actions. He displayed friendliness and compassion, unlike some of the guys around here. All they were was cockiness and arrogant behaviour. Maybe I thought that because I was bored of them. They were all typical and he was different.

It was the first day of Year 11. We all came back to school telling each other witty anecdotes about our holidays. Then we saw him. He was standing at the front of the class room trying very hard to avoid all the stares that the entire class was giving him. It had been a long time since a new student had graced our presence. He was tall - that was good thing. He had a buzz cut and was dressed in his uniform in the exact way the other guys wore it, with the top buttons of his white school shirt undone showing off the darkness of his body. His tie was done neatly and was at the top of his shirt, just below his two buttons at the top of his shirt. Not near down his naval, which is how most of the boys usually have their ties hanging. Come to think of it, that’s how some of us girls dressed.

He was assigned a place in the classroom and easily bonded with the guys. Coincidently, his chair was near mine. We got chatting and then we started to become friends. It was hard for me at first because I usually just don’t seem to bond easily with the male sex. After Oliver’s very harsh betrayal, just three months ago I wasn’t all that keen on guys. Christa was supposed to be a friend of mine, but she thought it was alright to mess around with her friend’s boyfriend. I don’t really like having my heart broken and being betrayed by supposed friends.

When we started to become friends, we started sharing things about each other. He was really open and frank, he loved talking about his parents. His mum, who sounded positively enchanting, was like any other mother. She worried about him especially since he was verbally abused nearly every day at his previous school Whenever he spoke about his mum, his face would light up. His brown eyes would sparkle. I’d tell him about the teasing my Mum would get from my Dad. How he’d tease her because she was short and how’d he deliberately would wind her up.

At first, it seemed like a classroom friendship. You know, like you have those kinds of friends that you only chat with when you are in your Maths or English class when no one from your circle is there, so they are the next best thing but then after that lesson, you discover that you have nothing in common? But we ended up moving on very quickly from that. We soon exchanged numbers and were constantly on Facebook chatting.

Then we started to date. At first, it was a group-date thing. It was Megan’s idea about pairing us up. She was all, “Why don’t Simone and Josh pair up?” and we kind of looked at each other and shrugged. It didn’t matter to us. But by the end of the evening, we’d been left to fend for ourselves. I suppose that’s when we both started seeing each other. We knew that in the future, most of the group dates we’d attend we would be paired up. The gossips at school had us practically married by the end of the week after that group date. News had gotten out.

Around school, he’d taken to putting his arm around my shoulder, almost tucking me into his side. It felt nice, you know? It made me feel safe and warm. We’d go to classes like that. Soon after, we would be know as Simone and Josh. We’d be known as a couple. Of course Megan claimed that it was her idea that we should be paired up together for that group date we all went on, so in fact it was her that brought us together. But little did she know that we were together. We were friends who had just needed that little push to bring us together. The one-armed hugs turned into long hugs, where wouldn’t let go of each other, those long hugs ended up leading us to our first kiss.

Looking at him now... I feel numb. In that hospital bed, looking vulnerable and defeated... it broke me. At the moment, there is a dull ache in my heart. It pained me to see him so still and quiet, the face that is supposed to be full of life and cheer. He isn’t that Josh that I’ve come to… love, I realize quickly. My hand crawls over to his hand and I gently entwine my fingers with his. I need to feel him. I need to feel that connection with him. I lift my other hand and start to trace his scratches. The scratches that he obtained in the effort of saving me from that car. It’s funny, isn’t it? Until something as serious as this happens, you don’t realize that you love them. A sob breaks out as the moment flashes back. The moment that I was going to lose him. The moment I thought he was going to be snatched away from me. It’s until the moment that they’d could nearly be taken from you. That’s when you realize it.

Why did he have to step in and push me out of the way? That only happens in the movies, not in reality. He shouldn’t have to be lying in this cold, hard bed. He shouldn’t have to be here, in this sterile, cold environment while his family is frantic with worry. He’s someone who doesn’t deserve stuff like this happening to him. I lift the hand that is tracing his scratches and rub furiously at my face. His family comes in and after making small talk with them, I reluctantly leave the room. They need their time with him, after all.

I sit on the plastic chair outside his room. I need to be near him. I can’t just go to the cafeteria and pretend that everything’s alright. That would be wrong. No, I’m going to sit here. I pull out my phone, realizing that my parents must be frantic with worry. I wince as I look at the missed calls. I look around at the exit nearby and quickly dash out. It shouldn’t take too long explaining everything. I go back inside feeling better, after I’ve been told to just call them when I want to come home. I’d told them I couldn’t possibly leave before finding out if Josh was alright.

His family steps outside the room. I look up, alarmed, but they smile reassuring. Who’d have thought I’d meet my boyfriend’s family for the first time when he is in a hospital, badly injured?

“Is everything alright?” I ask quietly.

“Yes, he’s regained consciousness and he wants to see you. He wants to make sure that you're okay.” his mother says gently, the relief evident in her eyes and her small, serene smile.

“Okay. Umm, should I go in now?”

“Yes, of course.” His father motions towards the door.

I go in and my eyes immediately dart towards the bed. They were right. He’s awake and looking at the door. Looking for me. I walk towards the bed, my steps hesitant and light.

“Are you-,” My voice falters. “Are you alright?” I ask hoarsely. God Simone, what a stupid thing to say!

“Just tell me that you're alright, Sims.” Josh says weakly. The nerve of him! He’s the one in the hospital bed, the one in obvious pain, and he’s asking if I’m alright?!

I walk over and grasp his hand, once again entwining our hands together, looking at the difference in both of them. The darkness of his hand represents what I feel most of the time: Dark and tired. Whereas, the light, porcelain colour of my hand is what I see in him: Bright and cheerful and clean. Instead of answering the question I whisper to him,

“I’m fine, Josh. I just wish we knew who it was that nearly tried to kill you.”

I move closer to the bed and lift myself on to it. I manoeuvre my body next to him and look at our joined hands. I close my eyes, thinking, Our hands are our connection, once broken, we can’t function without each other.

They all said that we wouldn’t make it. But we did. And we will overcome this hurdle. Because I have a feeling that this wasn’t just a normal accident. I have a feeling it was someone’s motive. Someone who knows us. Someone who’s obviously objecting of a white girl and black boy dating.

Well, we’re going to show him that we can make it. That our skin difference doesn’t mean a thing to us and to the people around us.

I’m going to show him and everyone who doubts us.