the ordeal of being known

Layla

The season was looking good, her friends were hopeful, her home was perfect, her sister was okay, her artistic career was doing great, and everything was pretty good.

Until the unfortunate arrival of her time of the month, the day before, along with the first and second day, were just horrible for Layla. Another unfortunate fact is that the universe seemed to conspire against her because she also had food poisoning.

She started the day pretending she didn’t want to curl up and die, which was an amazing start in itself. When Celia proposed they go shopping, Layla thought it would be good to move instead of sitting around all day. They were in need of some essentials for Celia’s room along with candles, pillows and lamps.

Celia did not mention that Jess and Mateo were coming, Layla hadn’t spoken to Jess for a few days, she was usually just a bit more sensitive on the days leading up to her period and he overwhelmed her senses a lot so she thought it would be best to wait for a bit.

She tried not to think about when they danced, how he treated her with so much tenderness and patience. She tried not to think about how when he turned to leave she saw goosebumps on his skin. Watching him intently was turning into a habit, when he wasn’t signing, his eyes spoke, his body spoke, his hands spoke and she had to listen, she needed to, a part of her felt like she was missing out on fairness when she wasn’t watching him.

Layla to the audience: I’m an artist, I have to look at him. It’s for research purposes.

When she had set her eyes on his hand, she had seen it flex, Layla wondered if he felt the same, if he felt that touching her, even through fabric had left a trail, if he felt the ghost of her hands, resting on his shoulder the way she felt like she could still feel the weight of his on her waist. She didn’t flex her hand, but she did stare at it for a few minutes before she felt that she was ready to let the world spin again.

As they shopped, she was quiet; it wasn’t out of character for her, but she had someone who kept a close eye on her, who took note of her slowed movements.

The thing about growing up with shitty parents is that it felt like you weren’t allowed to feel anything. When Layla wasn’t feeling well, she had to calm herself and always hold back tears. When she was fourteen, she came up with a trick. She just thought about what horrible names her mother would call her if she started crying, and that helped hold everything back. 

If it wasn’t already humiliating that she desperately wanted someone to take care of her, that she was simply ignoring how tired she felt, pretending like she didn’t want to have a breakdown. Having someone watch her closely and notice that she was occasionally calming herself while holding back tears was worse. She had never felt so exposed before.

They continued to browse while Layla went to the tiny supermarket in front of the store. She grabbed some yogurt because she hadn’t eaten anything. It was a bit overpriced, and the place looked sketchy on the inside, but she didn’t give it much thought before opening it and taking a few bites.

She started feeling unwell an hour later.

“I need to go back. I have some paintings to work on,” she said in a hurry.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come with us to Onika’s? She would love to have you over.” Layla waved them off. She drove back and barely made it through the door before she started throwing up.

The next few hours were hell. She realized that it was the yogurt, and she realized she had food poisoning. She already had cramps from her period, but the vomit and nausea gave clues to something else.

Layla curled up on the sofa. She wanted to scream at herself. She should have told Celia she wasn’t feeling well. It would have been okay to ask for help.

She heard the sound of someone’s car, then knock at the door. Jess looked very displeased when she opened the door.

“What were you thinking?” he signed as soon as he saw the state she was in. “I’ve been texting you nonstop. I was so worried.”

“Shut up. I’m fine.” She avoided looking in the mirror on her slow way back to the sofa.

“Let’s go to the hospital.”

“It’s just my time of the month.”

“And?”

“And I have food poisoning.” He looked so mad at her. She didn’t like it when people look at her with anger, so she just closed her eyes.

She heard the fridge open. He was cutting some fruit for her; he brought a glass of water and made sure she drank .His frown was still in place, but he didn’t look so angry anymore.

“You can ask for help, you know.”

“Says you,” she sneered at him, and he sighed.

“Come here, drink it, sweetheart,” he signed, and then he held the cup near her mouth. “Chin up, there you go.”

Layla to the audience: I really hate Jess.

“I want you to leave,” she whispered. “Please.” She hugged the pillow, waiting for the cramp to pass.

“Why?” He signed as soon as she sat up. For Jess, every time he felt like he was a burden resurfaced at the request. Every moment he felt like he was someone who was too easy to shut out, the sting was spreading to his chest. He wanted to collapse on the floor, to clutch her and plead.

Please, not you, Layla. Anyone but you, he thought. 

“Because it’s not real.” She was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. He wished she would let him hold her. The desire to hold her hand felt so overwhelming. He shook with starvation for it.

“Why is it not real?” his hands were shaking, but he didn’t bother hiding.

“Because it’s just how your brain works,” she says, simply.

“How my brain works?”

“You don’t like losing control. Your brain is wired that way. You take care of the people around you, you stand by their side when they’re making hard decisions and you protect them. You like to be needed. So when someone comes along and you find out they’ve never been cared for or protected, you can’t help but fixate on them. It’s just who you are.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just so lonely. Even if I’m aware that it’s not real, I can’t help it. I’ve been so cold and your hands are warm and I’m too hungry for warmth to pull away. I don’t know how to defend myself against this feeling.”

They really chose a horrible time to have this conversation, because next thing he knew, she was running to the sink to throw up again.

Jess waited for her, but she didn’t come out. He left a note to tell her that he would go get some food for her. It took longer than planned. There was a lot of traffic and Amir’s was really crowded which meant it took him a bit longer to make her meal.

His phone vibrated on his way back, but he ignored it. Celia was going to sleep at Onika’s today, so he didn’t worry about her being home as he parked.