Two Cans and a String

In the bathroom, I peel off my dirtied clothing, clenching my teeth when the fabric sticks to my skin in places. Then I scrub my arms and stomach until my off-white towels take on a disturbingly pretty pink colour. I toss everything in the hamper.

The slow, deliberate routines of brushing my teeth and washing my face gives my nerves a chance to uncoil. I take my time, focussing on the roughness of the face cloth’s fibres against my nose. At one point I close my eyes but the image of Jameson’s damaged face is imprinted onto the backs of my eyelids so I elect to keep them open. I'm frustrated by my inability to not ponder how I could’ve handled the situation better. It frustrates me to no end.

“Sorry,” Is the first thing Will says to me when I get to the window. He’s sitting on his roof with his back against the worn white siding, elbows resting atop his bent knees.

I want to tell him that he doesn’t need to be, but he has to come to understanding that on his own terms and I’m not in the business of telling anyone what they should be feeling. Instead I only remark, “All in a day’s work for the one and only Captain Constantine.” Then he smiles and our earths fall back into their regular rotations and everything seems to be okay. It’s not often that Will’s eyes lose their glint but I like being a person who can restore the light when it burns out.

The rough, sandy shingles scratch the pads of my bare feet when I step through the window. I stand and glance toward the sky, hunting for the moon I love so much but the dark pall hides it. I sigh. “Tell me about the party.”

The shafts of the streetlights isn’t strong enough to reach the spot where our houses slant against each other. The only light is the soft beams barely managing to creep out from the lamps in our bedrooms. Everything is cast in a slight shadow, drained of colour and tinged slightly blue by the night sky.

“You weren’t there.”

It’s not the answer I was expecting. He doesn’t elucidate and it’s so uncharacteristic that it adds to my restlessness. I stuff my fists into my pockets, roll up the worn sleeves of my fawn coloured hoodie and then unroll them, hop from foot to foot. “That’s it?”

“Pretty much,” he says, rubbing his strong hands over his face, pressing them into a triangle around his nose and mouth.

I’m a little hurt by his lack of communication. Dejection settles over me. It could be because we’re both still a little on edge and because he’s worn out and tired and worried. Either way I do not like seeing him this way so I hop the small gap between our separate roofs and sink down beside him. “You can talk to me,” I whisper.

For the second time tonight, he startles me. Instead of responding, he gently reaches onto my lap, encircling my wrist. I lower my eyes from the sky to observe his actions. How he presses his warm palm against mine then locks me in with his fingers. I’m surprised by the tiny jolts on my skin where his rough wrist brushes against my soft one.

Despite my thudding heart, I feel calm. Safe. This is new and foreign. We’ve never been touchy with each other. It feels okay. It feels right.

Sometimes the early, darkest hours of the morning seem like an alternate reality. It’s like a parallel universe where everyone is more willing to be vulnerable. Everything is too real to ignore so it has to be said. The actions we struggle to control in the daylight are drawn out of us by the stars. Maybe people aren’t scared of the dark itself, but of what it’s capable of exposing. This could be a simple act of comforting or something more.

Funnily enough, another thing about the middle of the night is that it's a great environment for overthinking.

Will’s hesitant voice pulls me away from my thoughts. “Is this okay?” I’m not looking at him but his gaze is heavy on my profile. I can picture the faint upward curve of his nose and the contrast between his pale skin and dark lashes. He loosens his grip, ready to tug himself free in case I say no.

I don’t.

Suddenly the rotation of my earth is off kilter again but I'm finding that I'm alright with it. I’d never thought about this sort of connection between us until now but it’s all my mind can focus on for the rest of the night.