Status: All done-- for the near, foreseeable future
It's Simply Complicated
Therapy
Aliza fumbled her way into her house that Saturday night with her balancing act of binders, bags, leftover snacks, and whatever managed to get in her clutches along the way home. She had returned from an exhausting day of school, work, and everything in between and wanted nothing but dinner, her plush bed, and a few days of hibernation. Unfortunately, instead of an old-fashioned, home-cooked meal waiting to be devoured, she opened the front door to find a bunch of people gathered in her dining room and kitchen. It was Nicole’s birthday celebration that she had missed the first couple hours of and had obviously forgot was even being held.
Knowing that she had to make nice with the houseguests, Aliza begrudgingly dropped her things off in her bedroom and kicked off her shoes, before returning downstairs to ravage through the kitchen for whatever food the hyenas left on the carcass. She piled food onto a plastic plate and shoved it in the microwave before walking into the dining room to socialize. She stood behind Nicole’s chair and gave a small wave to everyone seated at the table, as a weak attempt to say hello to everyone at once. Small talk was exchanged which included something about liking someone’s new hair cut, or complimenting someone else about her recent weight loss of an impressive six pounds, and adding that the weather had, in fact, been abnormally cold for the area this past winter. During this, the microwave sounded at some point to alert Aliza that her food was done warming.
In the midst of the normal formalities and pleasantries, something or rather someone stole Aliza’s attention as she looked out the corner of her eye. She saw his body just lying there, limp and lifeless, but went over to him only to find closed eyes and a blank face. He looked harmless like this, definitely attractive but nearly angelic. She playfully hit his leg to get a response from him but none was given. He was obviously not behaving like himself for some reason and, for once, she was concerned. To her, he was never supposed to be upset or bothered. The normal routine involved Aliza minding her own business and him doing something to annoy her. If, for some reason, he had a problem, then he was supposed to forget about it in her presence. Aliza had never been able to separate the boy she knew versus the one that faced the world, had real life problems, and actually contributed to society.
“Hey, what’s up?” Aliza piped up. He opened his eyes one at a time as she leaned down to give him a quick hug, a normal greeting between the two of them at this point.
“Nothing, I just have a headache,” he tried, but it was not convincing in the slightest. He seemed too distant for it to just be a headache, but then again, he always had to play the martyr. With him, moments without unnecessary drama and suspense were few and far between, practically nonexistent. Aliza paused, thinking about what to say before she spoke up. She just looked down at him. He had managed to sit upright on the reclining chair with the footstool placed conveniently near his feet. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His hands went up to his face and his forefingers just rested on either side of his nose while the rest of his fingers met each other. His eyes were closed and head slightly bowed, as he looked deep in thought, prayerful even.
“You sure you’re Ok? You seem bummed.” She uttered quietly enough for him to hear, but not draw any attention to them.
He gave no answer, which prompted Aliza to try something else. She hesitantly asked, “You want to play with my hair?”
For as long as she knew him, he always felt a need to play with her hair. Meanwhile, for as long as she can remember, she hated people playing with her hair. Despite her wishes, he would always find a way to get a hand in her tresses for a couple seconds before she would swat his hand away and tell him that he knew better. However, this time was different and the air between them was different. He just shook his head silently and stayed in the same contemplative position.
“You want me to play with your hair?” Aliza tried again only to receive another shake of the head. She defied him, as he had done to her many times before, and brought her hand up, around the back of his head, to smooth the hair behind his right ear. With Aliza stroking the hair behind his ear, he breathed deeply as if he were trying to keep his sanity and life from falling apart around him. He let out a loud sigh still with eyes clothes. The two stayed like that for a moment and Aliza had no reservations about comforting him like this.
He slowly opened his eyes but his hands remained where they were before he finally brought his hands to a clasp and spoke up, staring off into the distance. “I love it when people play with my hair,” he started to explain.
“Because it reminds you of when you were a kid and how the little girls would play with it because it was so soft,” she finished for him. He nodded, without looking up at her. He looked defeated, that she already knew the ending to the story: a detail so small and meaningless to her but one that held such great significance to him.
“You tell me the story all the time.” She added with a small, sympathetic smile that went unnoticed as he only stared blankly ahead and nodded. The silence between them ensued yet again, but Aliza continued to stroke his hair and he focused ahead, resting his elbows on his knees.
The stillness between them was unorthodox and made her very uncomfortable. “You sure you don’t need anything?” She added desperately as a final attempt. She knew his answer would be yet another headshake, but she wanted to try something—anything. Her companion merely shook his head and lay back in the chair, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall to the side, with his chain meeting his right shoulder.
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you but I’m sorry about whatever it is and I hope you feel better.” Aliza said with frustration beginning to take over her voice. However, she was able to reign her brashness back in and leaned down to the boy in the reclining chair and gave him, what she thought was, a farewell hug. With his hands wrapped around her waist from the embrace, he gently pulled her down on top of him so their bodies were in near perfect alignment despite the height difference. During this, he never said a word; he never opened his eyes; and he did not really move too much save to prop his feet on the footstool.
Aliza and the boy reclined on the chair together with their legs extending out onto the footstool. She was uncomfortably comfortable resting on the boy in the chair, or rather comfortably uncomfortable, whichever the following describes: Aliza’s body was tense but she felt as if she was helping him, somehow sharing the weight of the world that had managed to land on his shoulders. She had never been in this position with him—literally and figuratively—before. She secretly relished in the fact that he was vulnerable and needed her, but her mind wandered frantically as she thought about what would happen if someone walked into the room, seeing him and her together.
“Ok, I got to go,” she tried, as she gave into the worries that were taking over her mind. It almost seemed that just as nearly as she was on top of him she was trying to leave. He moved his arms together, enveloping her in a tighter hug that also doubled as a way to stop her from leaving. Whatever things he was going through had seriously frightened him as he just held her tighter, with his eyes shut and never saying a word. She remained calm and with him for a few moments longer. It was after this moment when he clung to her that Aliza began to relax. Ironically, it was in his fleeing moment of dire panic that she felt the most comfortable. Her once tense body began to unwind itself and ease into a state of rest. Her eyelids began to get heavy and her breathing slowed. She was sure her heart rate had slowed down to match the sluggish thum-thump, thum-thump of his. In the process of her attempting to get up and him not allowing her, she had managed to reposition her body. Her head was on his shoulder with her left arm draped across his chest. As she began to loosen up completely, she found her leg rising to wrap around one of his. However, she only got to the point where her knee was resting on his leg before she broke the now peaceful silence between them. Meanwhile, after she began to get more comfortable, his grip on her waist shifted to him loosely holding her near, an arm around her back and an arm around her waist.
“Evan?”
“Hmm?” He answered, not moving any part of his body or even opening his eyes, just clinging to her for dear life.
“I got to get up,” she started without moving, “you got to let me go, Ok?”
“Mhmm,” he responded meekly with no hesitation, or movement aimed at keeping her with him even longer.
“All right, I got to get up.” She repeated more to herself instead of him. However this time, she actually stood up from the reclining chair and re-joined the party in the adjacent rooms—torn between wanting to stay with Evan but afraid of where things could go.
Knowing that she had to make nice with the houseguests, Aliza begrudgingly dropped her things off in her bedroom and kicked off her shoes, before returning downstairs to ravage through the kitchen for whatever food the hyenas left on the carcass. She piled food onto a plastic plate and shoved it in the microwave before walking into the dining room to socialize. She stood behind Nicole’s chair and gave a small wave to everyone seated at the table, as a weak attempt to say hello to everyone at once. Small talk was exchanged which included something about liking someone’s new hair cut, or complimenting someone else about her recent weight loss of an impressive six pounds, and adding that the weather had, in fact, been abnormally cold for the area this past winter. During this, the microwave sounded at some point to alert Aliza that her food was done warming.
In the midst of the normal formalities and pleasantries, something or rather someone stole Aliza’s attention as she looked out the corner of her eye. She saw his body just lying there, limp and lifeless, but went over to him only to find closed eyes and a blank face. He looked harmless like this, definitely attractive but nearly angelic. She playfully hit his leg to get a response from him but none was given. He was obviously not behaving like himself for some reason and, for once, she was concerned. To her, he was never supposed to be upset or bothered. The normal routine involved Aliza minding her own business and him doing something to annoy her. If, for some reason, he had a problem, then he was supposed to forget about it in her presence. Aliza had never been able to separate the boy she knew versus the one that faced the world, had real life problems, and actually contributed to society.
“Hey, what’s up?” Aliza piped up. He opened his eyes one at a time as she leaned down to give him a quick hug, a normal greeting between the two of them at this point.
“Nothing, I just have a headache,” he tried, but it was not convincing in the slightest. He seemed too distant for it to just be a headache, but then again, he always had to play the martyr. With him, moments without unnecessary drama and suspense were few and far between, practically nonexistent. Aliza paused, thinking about what to say before she spoke up. She just looked down at him. He had managed to sit upright on the reclining chair with the footstool placed conveniently near his feet. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His hands went up to his face and his forefingers just rested on either side of his nose while the rest of his fingers met each other. His eyes were closed and head slightly bowed, as he looked deep in thought, prayerful even.
“You sure you’re Ok? You seem bummed.” She uttered quietly enough for him to hear, but not draw any attention to them.
He gave no answer, which prompted Aliza to try something else. She hesitantly asked, “You want to play with my hair?”
For as long as she knew him, he always felt a need to play with her hair. Meanwhile, for as long as she can remember, she hated people playing with her hair. Despite her wishes, he would always find a way to get a hand in her tresses for a couple seconds before she would swat his hand away and tell him that he knew better. However, this time was different and the air between them was different. He just shook his head silently and stayed in the same contemplative position.
“You want me to play with your hair?” Aliza tried again only to receive another shake of the head. She defied him, as he had done to her many times before, and brought her hand up, around the back of his head, to smooth the hair behind his right ear. With Aliza stroking the hair behind his ear, he breathed deeply as if he were trying to keep his sanity and life from falling apart around him. He let out a loud sigh still with eyes clothes. The two stayed like that for a moment and Aliza had no reservations about comforting him like this.
He slowly opened his eyes but his hands remained where they were before he finally brought his hands to a clasp and spoke up, staring off into the distance. “I love it when people play with my hair,” he started to explain.
“Because it reminds you of when you were a kid and how the little girls would play with it because it was so soft,” she finished for him. He nodded, without looking up at her. He looked defeated, that she already knew the ending to the story: a detail so small and meaningless to her but one that held such great significance to him.
“You tell me the story all the time.” She added with a small, sympathetic smile that went unnoticed as he only stared blankly ahead and nodded. The silence between them ensued yet again, but Aliza continued to stroke his hair and he focused ahead, resting his elbows on his knees.
The stillness between them was unorthodox and made her very uncomfortable. “You sure you don’t need anything?” She added desperately as a final attempt. She knew his answer would be yet another headshake, but she wanted to try something—anything. Her companion merely shook his head and lay back in the chair, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall to the side, with his chain meeting his right shoulder.
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you but I’m sorry about whatever it is and I hope you feel better.” Aliza said with frustration beginning to take over her voice. However, she was able to reign her brashness back in and leaned down to the boy in the reclining chair and gave him, what she thought was, a farewell hug. With his hands wrapped around her waist from the embrace, he gently pulled her down on top of him so their bodies were in near perfect alignment despite the height difference. During this, he never said a word; he never opened his eyes; and he did not really move too much save to prop his feet on the footstool.
Aliza and the boy reclined on the chair together with their legs extending out onto the footstool. She was uncomfortably comfortable resting on the boy in the chair, or rather comfortably uncomfortable, whichever the following describes: Aliza’s body was tense but she felt as if she was helping him, somehow sharing the weight of the world that had managed to land on his shoulders. She had never been in this position with him—literally and figuratively—before. She secretly relished in the fact that he was vulnerable and needed her, but her mind wandered frantically as she thought about what would happen if someone walked into the room, seeing him and her together.
“Ok, I got to go,” she tried, as she gave into the worries that were taking over her mind. It almost seemed that just as nearly as she was on top of him she was trying to leave. He moved his arms together, enveloping her in a tighter hug that also doubled as a way to stop her from leaving. Whatever things he was going through had seriously frightened him as he just held her tighter, with his eyes shut and never saying a word. She remained calm and with him for a few moments longer. It was after this moment when he clung to her that Aliza began to relax. Ironically, it was in his fleeing moment of dire panic that she felt the most comfortable. Her once tense body began to unwind itself and ease into a state of rest. Her eyelids began to get heavy and her breathing slowed. She was sure her heart rate had slowed down to match the sluggish thum-thump, thum-thump of his. In the process of her attempting to get up and him not allowing her, she had managed to reposition her body. Her head was on his shoulder with her left arm draped across his chest. As she began to loosen up completely, she found her leg rising to wrap around one of his. However, she only got to the point where her knee was resting on his leg before she broke the now peaceful silence between them. Meanwhile, after she began to get more comfortable, his grip on her waist shifted to him loosely holding her near, an arm around her back and an arm around her waist.
“Evan?”
“Hmm?” He answered, not moving any part of his body or even opening his eyes, just clinging to her for dear life.
“I got to get up,” she started without moving, “you got to let me go, Ok?”
“Mhmm,” he responded meekly with no hesitation, or movement aimed at keeping her with him even longer.
“All right, I got to get up.” She repeated more to herself instead of him. However this time, she actually stood up from the reclining chair and re-joined the party in the adjacent rooms—torn between wanting to stay with Evan but afraid of where things could go.