The Story of Us

I used to like to think of my life as a story. That God was the author, and I was lucky enough to be a character in this ultimate novel of His. And He would write my story for me, and write everyone else’s, and sometimes, He would let those story touch. Let their words bleed into each other like juice of a pomegranate seed against a silk white shirt; the stain forever altering the future. Sometimes they were little stains. And sometimes, He let certain stories crash into each other, the wreckage so mollifying that the stories can’t help but become one. The damage is done, and it is irreversible.

My life experienced a crash like this rather early on. About kindergarten actually. I was born Asha Indira Peterson, but I became known as Asha and Olivia. Or rather, Olivia and I became known as Asha and Olivia. Olivia and I started out rather bland, and became inseparable friends before either of us had developed much of a personality. But when we finally did grow into ourselves, we were very different.

Olivia bloomed into a gorgeous Colorado Columbine, her vivid blue petals stretching out in every direction to welcome people, and those who indulged themselves in her company were always pleased. Meanwhile, I sprouted into an awkward dandelion that tended to get lost in the framework. I wasn’t a displeasing dandelion; the petals were bright, the color was healthy. But next to Olivia, people couldn’t help but wonder why two flowers like us were growing together. But it was something in our roots that kept us connected. They had intertwined themselves so much that we became permanently tethered to each other. Eternal companions. Our stories had sufficiently become one.

But for the last week, I had been afraid that the story of us was beginning to look a lot more like a tragedy. I walked to the library, scanning the halls for any sign of the bubbly, blond girl. The memory of her curly golden locks had burned itself into my eyelids and almost blinded me. What really terrified me was how much I didn’t mind. I missed her with everything inside of me, and the thought of her smile made my stomach swoop and it grazed something deep in my core. That something began to ache.

But the library was safe, I knew. Olivia had never been much of a reader, while I, on the other hand, did nothing but. “My beautiful little bookworm.” That was what she used to call me whenever she caught me with a book, which had been a lot over the years. She would take a lock of my sleek black hair and twirl it around her finger, cocking her head and stretching her bubblegum pink lips to smile at me. It never failed to make the corner of my mouth quirk and my heart skip a beat as my trembling hands fumbled to turn the page.

The college library was large, and the grandness of it never stopped threatening to overwhelm me. The domed ceiling arched dozens of feet above the patrons’ heads, and seemed to stretch on for a mile in any direction. The wooden rectangular tables with their pretty wooden armchairs were aligned in four long, neat columns, each reaching almost to the back wall. The library was fairly crowded today, as exams were coming up, and lots of people were cramming to finish studying.

As I scanned the room for a seat, my brown eyes collided with blue ones and I felt the world drop from around me. As my universe was plunged into darkness, moments of Saturday night flooded my mind.

Her mouth on mine...

Her hands on my stomach...

“Kiss me, Asha...”

I came back to reality with a jolt. The sudden rebound from the recesses of my conscious made me dizzy, or maybe it was the way she was looking at me, but I knew I had to sit. I searched the room for an empty seat, and couldn’t help but feel relieved when one was finally located. I sank onto the green vinyl cushion and pulled a battered paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet out of my bag.

I opened the book and began to read the classic words that had already been inadvertently memorized by me. My coffee brown skin blended in with the wood of the table and I pictured myself slowly sinking into it, disappearing from the world and convincing myself that no one missed me. Not even her. And then my thoughts consumed me, and the realities that I had pushed away for so long were enveloping me. I sank like quicksand.

When she came in, I was unprepared and had no warning. “Baby, come answer the door!” she shouted cheerily, her words slurred. I knew it couldn’t be my parents for two reasons: One, I could never imagine them getting tore down drunk; and two, they were at a doctor’s conference in Seattle, all the way across the country and miles from New York.

“Good evening, Olivia,” I greeted her as I opened the door.

“Ditto!” she shouted, throwing up an arm to wave before she dissolved into giggles. I thanked God that Hannah, our maid, wasn’t here to see this.

“C’mon, you,” I sighed, taking her hand and leading her up the staircase and down the hall to my room. She ran and leapt onto my bed, laying there for a moment before getting up and jumping up and down on it. The canopy above her shook with the vibrations, and she laughed rather loudly as she bounced.

“Stop,” I requested quietly, unable to suppress my laughter. Although I detested the fact that she drank underage, I couldn’t help but enjoy her company whilst she was under the influence. She giggled and plopped down on my bed. She spread her legs in front of her in a V and smiled at me. I smiled back and sat on my knees so I was facing her.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Olivia drawled. I shrugged and felt the heat rise to my cheeks, biting my lip to keep the smile from blossoming. She reached out a hand and touched my cheek, gliding her knuckles back and forth. Her skin was soft on mine, like silk on silk, and I interlocked my fingers in hers, holding her palm against my face. Her smile softened and morphed into something new that I couldn’t quite read, but I remembered something I had been meaning to tell her.

“Kendrick called me pretty the other day,” I gushed. I couldn’t help but smile thinking about it, and, as usual, Olivia groaned and pulled her hand away.

“I can’t believe you still like him!” she whined, folding her legs under her and mimicking my kneeling position. I shrugged and looked down at my hands playing in my lap.

“I don’t know. He’s cute.”

“He’s a pig.”

“Olivia!”

“Asha! You haven’t seen how much of a douche he is. I have. He’s not right for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. That’s why I’m telling you.”

“I think you’re wrong. There’s something more to him.” Olivia gagged and rolled her eyes. I continued anyway. “He’s smart even though he tries to hide it. He’s sweet when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s funny and kind and—”

Before I could continue, Olivia had launched herself forward and kissed me. Her lips were on mine, playful and excited. I could feel my pulse racing against her palms as she placed her hands on either side of my neck. I sighed and felt myself sink into her for a moment before my mind finally caught up to my heart and I pushed her away from me.

“Olivia, what are you doing?” I screeched, glaring at her. But my anger and confusion evaporated in a moment, like a drop of water on a hot pan, and all because of the way she was looking at me. Her blue eyes, usually bright and eager, held something heavier right then. Something that made my core become hot and pulsating and it began to expand, filling my body like a balloon and brought me close to exploding.

“Kiss me, Asha,” she whispered, her voice drenched in lust, and it made my pounding heart clench and wriggle in my chest. Before I could protest, Olivia threw herself at me again, and this time, I couldn’t resist her. Our bodies seemed to speak to each other, and the conversation grew animated very quickly.

The memories stopped as suddenly as they began, leaving me cold. And so, so lonely. I looked up from my table to where Olivia had been seated, but she was gone. Leaving my book, my bag, my everything and taking only my heart, I went to find her. I started walking wherever my legs were taking me. I wasn’t focused on direction, just finding Olivia. It was fall, and the leaves made a carpet on the ground, the bright colors making it seem like I was walking on still fire.

She was sitting on a stone bench beneath a maple tree that still had yet to lose its red and golden leaves. Her back was to me, and all I could see were her long curls cascading down her slender back, shaking with her body's quiet sobs. I took a silent seat next to her, sitting up straight and staring ahead at the sun just beginning to dip its toes into the harbor to rest. My hands were folded in my lap as Olivia sobbed beside me, her hands in her face. We didn’t say anything.

“I just feel so stupid,” she finally gasped through her tears, sitting up and wiping them angrily away. I looked at her now as she straddled the bench to face me. “I fucked up our entire relationship just because of one drunken kiss.” I frowned, and tried to ignore the tight squeeze my heart gave in response to such a comment.

“Was that all that was to you?” I asked, my pain manifesting itself in my wobbly voice. “Some ‘drunken kiss’?” Olivia stared at me warily through her wet, red eyes.

“Yeah,” she sniffed, sweeping her hair over her right shoulder.

“Olivia, I love you.” I said the words bravely and without hesitancy, more confident than I had ever been in my life. It wasn’t an accident and it wasn’t impulsive. I was taking a risky, and calculated chance. I didn’t know how she would respond, and I didn’t know if I was going to lose her forever for this, but I had to try. If I didn’t, I would just spend the rest of my days slowly dying inside, a fate that I had already endured for much too long.

“I love you too, Bookworm—”

“No, Olivia, I am in love with you,” I said firmly, scooting closer and placing my hand on hers. Olivia’s mouth opened and closed to respond, her aqua eyes searching and frantic. I kept going, afraid that if I stopped, I would never finish.

“I am in love with you the way that I’m supposed to love boys. I have been for a long time. I love your smile, and your laugh. Your perfume. Your dimples. I love the way you stand up for me and I love the way you sneeze. The big things and the small things, Olivia, I adore them all. I adore you, Olivia.

“And I want you...I need you...to love me back.” The tears were falling, and I couldn’t have stopped them even if I’d wanted to. Olivia’s face was blank, and I didn’t know what she would say next. My heart was beating a tattoo against my chest, and all of a sudden, I was scared again. Scared she would reject me, and I would have to learn how to live without her. I so desperately wanted to gather up all the words I had so carelessly thrown into the wind, but they were already being carried away on the breeze, disappearing with the falling leaves.

Olivia didn’t say anything.

She didn’t say a word.

Instead she kissed me...

And I knew our story would have a happy ending.