Wrists

We sat in my car together after classes. The engine wasn’t on; the keys weren’t in the ignition—we just sat there. Together. It felt nice. He was brushing his fingers on the top of my right hand, humming some song underneath his breath. I was leaning back against the leather seat, staring up at the bright skies.

He stopped humming. He turned to glance at me, and then back out the windshield. “You know I just want to help you. Right?” His voice was very low, very soft, very comforting. I closed my eyes and listened to his voice resonate like the bass notes of a cello.

I hummed a yes.

“I don’t want to pressure you, Graham.” He continued carefully, like I was a china plate ready to fall and break. “I’m not here for that.”

I cracked open my green eyes and looked at the profile of his angled face. “Then what are you here for.” I mumbled.

He let out an audible exhale through his nose. And then turned his gaze to me. “I’m. Really, uh. Interested in. You.” Short pause. “Y’know that. Right?”

I hummed. It still felt nice to hear it.

“That’s why I feel. So. So obliged to, uh. To help you.” He stuttered. I could tell he was nervous. I turned my right hand over on its back so our palms touched. A stupid way to comfort someone, I know, but when he closed his hand around mine I knew it helped some. “Tell one of them, at least.”

This again.

I shook my head slightly. “I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just afraid to. Tell one. That’s all I’m asking.”

Very long silence. He already knew the answer—why did he bother continue to pester? I couldn’t. I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t. And that was that.

He finally looked me in the eyes. “Is your mother home alone today?”

I gave him a suspicious stare. “Maybe...?”

“Drive us home.” He ordered, voice suddenly stern. “Drive home.”

“What? No! Your car is still in the parking lot, for one, and, two, just. No. I know what you’re up to. You can’t rush things, Eli. If I don’t want to, I don’t wa—”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Graham,” he voice lowered practically two octaves, blue eyes darkening. “It matters what you need. And you need this. Look at you—you’re looking more and more like a skeleton everyday! What you need is help, so stop listening to what you want!”

I looked on with shock.

He looked back.

Silence.

I turned away.

I turned on the car.