Maybe It's Real

I walk into my living room, pulling my ratty hoodie over my head. I wrap the end of the sleeves of my knuckles, hoping they'll warm them. Our heater broke this morning and already our house is bitter with the late December weather. Melody is sitting on the couch wrapped in blankets, a knit hat pulled over her curly haired head. In the corner of the tiny room our Christmas tree sits brightly decorated and lit up to the extreme. We haven’t gotten a Christmas tree since dad died and my mother surprised me with it when I came home from my third therapy session.

Therapy is going well. Dr.Quaid is a nice guy and he doesn’t push me. We mostly just talk. We talk about books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, stuff like that. I know the questions are coming, they just haven’t come yet. I know he’ll ask me about Eli, I’m waiting for that, too. I’m grateful he doesn’t push me but part of me wants to just get this therapy thing over with so I can just drop what happened. I don’t want to remember anything.

“Stella, a boy is at the door for you.” My mother calls suddenly. I pull my hood over my head and stuff my hands in my sweat pockets, curious to see who’s here. When I get to the foyer I see Eli standing with my mother, talking to her about the weather. I smile at Eli a little.

“Hi,” I whisper to him. He gives me a lopsided smile.

“Hey, Stella.” I walk over to him and glance at my mother, giving her the, ‘get out of here’ look.

She bites back a smile, “Are you two going somewhere?” She asks, lifting an eyebrow. I look up at Eli and he bites his lip.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to lunch with me.” His voice has a question to it and I nod.

“Let me just go put on some jeans and I’ll be right down.” I say, “You can come inside for a minute if you’d like.” I add right before walking quickly up the flight of steps, tearing off my old sweatshirt and sweats right when I reach my room.

I quickly pull on my new pair of jeans my mother bought me as an early Christmas present and a black V-neck t-shirt with a breast pocket, a boyfriend tee if I remember correctly. I slip on my combat boots and pea coat and pull my knit hat over my hair. I run back down the steps and Eli is standing in my kitchen chatting with my mother. Melody somehow migrated into the kitchen, also, still wrapped in her blankets.

“Ready to go?” I ask. Eli nods and smiles at my mother and Melody, bidding them goodbye. I kiss Melody on the top of the head and my mother on the cheek. I follow Eli out my front door and we are hit with a cold gust of wind.

“So, where are we going?” I ask. We approach his car quickly and Eli opens my door for me. I thank him and take a seat, rubbing my palms together. Eli gets in the car, turning it on, and then putting the heat on high. A blast of warm air flows from the vents in front of me. I hold my hands up to them.

“I was thinking Santos. Does that sound okay?” Santos is a small Italian restaurant in town.

I nod my head, “That sounds great.”

The car ride is silent, neither of us really knowing what to say. The air becomes stuffy and I sniffle, my nose running. Eli turns the heat down and clears his throat.

“How are you doing, Stella?” Eli’s voice sounds sincere and this ‘how are you doing,’ seems like a deeper question than it’s supposed to be. I bite my lip and pull my hat down farther.

“I’m okay. How are you doing, Eli?” I repeat. Eli glances at me through the corner of his eye looking skeptical.
“I’m doing fine. Are you really okay, Stella?” I suck in a breath and slowly breathe out, a piece of hair falling in my face. I push it back in place, staring out the frosty window.

“I don’t think I am.” I manage to say after a minute. Silence. All I hear is Eli breathing in and out, the sound of the salt on the main street. Then, Eli’s hand is on top of mine. His palm is warm against the back of my hand and I look over at him, eyes wide. He doesn’t look at me, he just focuses on driving, one hand on the wheel. I flip my hand over and lace my fingers with his, breathing slowly and carefully. I blink away the tear that started to build up behind my eyes. I don’t know how Eli can make me feel this way by just holding my hand. When his hand touched mine, I automatically felt safe and secure. Like no one in this world, not even James, could touch me.