Blue Fingers

Whenever I sleep and wakeup in the middle of the night I act on the first thought that crosses my mind. It is the time in which I act most like an animal, most on instinct. These are the times in which I’m more vulnerable, in which I can say whatever’s on my mind without thinking, these are the times in which I’m stronger and yet, this are also the times when I’m more fragile.

Do you believe this?

Crash.

The ear-splitting bell cut our conversation short. I shot to my feet and mumbled something about picking up my books for the next class. I all but ran out of there, trying to avoid bumping shoulders with strangers and stepping on someone else’s foot. I did go to my locker, though, because I didn’t know what else to do. I stared at my schedule for a little too long until my mind finally made sense of the symbols scrawled in the paper. I took the books out and made my way into the next class.

If someone talked to me, if a teacher asked me a question, if I had been made fun of or if someone had slapped me, I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember much of the rest of that day to tell you the truth. I just stared at my fingers, the red string sticking out.

I couldn’t understand what Vera had told me.

Could someone really do that?

I couldn’t accept it. Whether they weren’t really brother and sister, it was messed up in so many ways.

How could she lure him into that, how could he have accepted?

When did this happen?

Was it just once?

More?

The thoughts kept falling and falling, destroying my senses and other thoughts as they fell, and crashed and burned. If only I could feel, I would’ve felt the stinging pain of the fire enveloping around me. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I was numb, I was a zombie, it was as I was sleep-walking. Think of whatever metaphor that means you weren’t really focused on your body, imagine it very carefully: that’s how I was.

To tell you the truth the only thing I can remember (praise me!) was when the airbag exploded on my face. It was as if someone had slapped me in the face and as if the air had been kicked out of me. Of course, the airbag had slapped me in the face and the seat belt was taking the air out of me.

And then I placed the dots together.

If my body was aching, if the seatbelt was digging into my skin, if the air bag had been activated…then that means that I was in a car and that something bad had happened. I moved my heavy arms and pushed the air bag from my face. I heard a few pieces of glass clattering against the floor. I cursed under my breath as I unbuckled my seatbelt and assessed the damage: my window was only a few shards of glass on the lower corners and I was sure that if the black Mercedes was pulled out, my door would have a humongous dent.

Wait.

Black…Mercedes?

Surely, there a million black Mercedes in town. I heard shards of glass falling to the floor, and footsteps getting nearer. Someone was so near I could her the fabric against the skin, the long quick breaths. I looked up and stared at the chocolate eyes and I was lost.

I just knew I was.

“You’re not the best driver, are you?”

My lower lip trembled and I looked down, unable to keep my sanity anymore. I mean, what did I do to deserve this? Couldn’t I just crash against any other person? I couldn’t even look at the guy in the face, I couldn’t move on my own, I couldn’t think, I…

“Get out of the car.”

He commanded. My hand instantly went to the door handle and I felt them being slapped away.

“You can’t go through there, my car’s there. Use the other door.”

He said in a less than unfriendly way. I scrambled out of the car, knees buckling together and lip trembling. I could feel the tears rolling down my face, the scratched on my left arm and legs were starting to burn a bit. I just stood there.

“Do you want to be run over, kid?”

I heard a deep voice yell at me. I realized then I was in the middle of the street, and car had just zoomed by my side. As I turned to look at where it had almost brushed me, I got a quick look at my car: or what was left of it. It turns out, it wasn’t only Ethan’s car that had crashed against it. A red Hyundai had crashed against the right back door and a mini van against the back. My car was totaled, to say the least.

“Kid!”

The angry voice yelled again and I made my way quickly to the other side of the road. The angry man was a police man. He had an annoyed look on as he stood by his motorcycle. He didn’t believe me when I said I was sober and made me do those ridiculous tests. After he was done with that and giving me a speech I really didn’t listen to he asked if I needed help going home. I just stared at my feet.

“I’ll drive her.”

I heard someone say. I turned around to see Ethan, his face stoic as he grabbed me by the wrist and walked me to his car. I was aware that the man kept yelling something, and it was surely to me but I didn’t care. I really couldn’t think. As Ethan grabbed me roughly by the wrist I could only imagine him grabbing Vera with that hand, and more personal mental pictures appeared in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to block them.
Ethan pushed me into the back seat, buckling the seat belt around me and sitting on the driver’s seat.

“I’d say you were high if the police man hadn’t proved it otherwise. What’s wrong with you?”

He asked. I was sure he wasn’t really expecting an answer. In fact, I debated with myself for a long time whether I should give him one or not. I stared at the lawn pass by the window as I pondered; we entered a small town and what looked like a university area as I thought about it carefully. Against my better instincts, I opened my mouth and let the words quickly before I would change my mind.

“You’re what’s wrong with me.”

I answered, instantly regretting it. I heard him clack his tongue against the roof of his mouth and then responding in that serious, cold tone of voice of his,

“I am? How so?”

“You…you’re in my head. You’re messing with my head.”

“Did I make such a strong impact on you, little…Ana?”

“Alexis.”

I corrected, the mistake feeling like I had swallowed a heavy stone and it was now stuck in my throat.

“It’s not that…at least not entirely.”

I heard the words slip off my tongue and suddenly, he was facing me. I realized we had stopped; we were at a student’s parking lot. His big brown eyes were focused on mine; I could see strands of his spiky reddish hair falling over his forehead.

“Do explain.”

He commanded, his face stoic, un-changing.

“Vera, she- I…I shouldn’t be saying this.”

I mumbled, my hands going to the door’s handle. He was quicker than me, of course. With one single, robotic movement he had the doors locked, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Explain.”

“I…Vera told me about…she told me about you and her.”

He continued to stare, as if expecting me to continue. I did as he silently ordered,

“About…your relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship. Apart from being brothers, of course.”

I shook my head pressing my teeth deeper into the tender flesh.

“But you do. You were together.I know it, don’t be such a liar.”

I whispered. Before I had even finished the last word, the fingers of his right hand had wrapped around my neck. To any other person it might’ve seemed like a gentle gesture, like patting a dog’s head or petting a cat. But I was the one who was lacking air, I was the one who was suffering.

And then, once more, he pressed his lips against me…and gave me air.