The Consequences of Silence
I had imagined so many moments like this, but not like this
Article and art by Julia Nichols
I had imagined so many moments like this, but not like this
The silence said more than I ever could. I should’ve said no. But I’m not sure I was thinking that in the moment.
January 30, 2019, Boy chose to bring it up. I had liked Boy (again) for a while now, but I had liked him many times before (and he knew that) so I didn’t want to annoy him with my feelings again. I also didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it felt as though the dust had finally settled.
We lived in the grey area. We liked it there because we were both lonely and didn’t have the guts to be assertive.
But you had been treating me differently lately. It was because you liked the power I gave you.
I used to make fun of Boy because whenever I sat on the couch in his attic, he would always sit on the opposite end.
“Why are you so afraid of being close to people? It’s funny that you think it’s awkward to sit next to someone you care about.”
I decided he had this weird thing about boundaries – like he needed to clearly define what you were to him so you didn’t get any ideas. I was determined to blur the lines.
My heart paints over the hurt with images sweetened in memory.
In December he grew lonely, and we grew close. This made it easy to blur his lines (I made it playful too). This time, when he sat on the other end of the couch, I looked at him, rolled my eyes as I fell dramatically backward, and laughed. I waited for him to flirt back by pretending to watch the show on the attic TV. Silently judging (secretly baiting). With a scoff and smile, he rolled his eyes back at me and moved to sit beside where I was laying. I tried to suppress a smile of my own as I rested my head on his lap.
I liked the nights when we would confess more than we wanted to. We confessed with our actions, never our words.
Over much time and many late-night movies, I progressed from resting on the couch with my head on his lap to sharing the pullout bed with my head on his chest and my arm over his body. He ran his fingers along my arm as I fell asleep to whatever we were watching (the way he did it was special because he knew I liked it when he went all the way to my fingertips). But living in the grey area took its toll on me, and while I had gotten what I wanted, fear (and a hint of pain) lingered in the back of my mind of the day he would find out what it truly meant to me.
Anything dark blue reminds me of you.
I began to pull away and confide in his best friend instead. I was obvious in my avoidance. I began to ask his best friend for rides home instead of him (I wanted to know what it felt like to be missed) and for help with stupid little things like lacing up my ice skates when our group of friends went skating together for Christmas. I should’ve realized at the time, however, that best friends tell each other everything.
Are you okay?
On January 30, 2019, when I hung out with Boy, I was feeling weak (I missed the feeling of Boy’s body warmth) so I let him share my part of the couch and I let myself rest my head on his chest. Tonight, we decided to watch “Her” (the movie with Joaquin Phoenix and Scarlett Johansson). He brushed my arm with his fingertips; I fell asleep. When the movie ended, I knew that something was different, that there was something on his mind. Before I fully realized what was about to happen, he began.
“I think there’s something we need to talk about.”
The important parts of the talk were these:
“I don’t think we should date”
“If you’re fine with it, I’m fine keeping things the way they are”
All I felt was relief that he didn’t leave me.
In the weeks after Boy decided it was okay to keep things the same, we freely allowed ourselves to satiate our loneliness with each other (I couldn’t help but notice we were changing into something that wasn’t as grey as before). Whenever he hung out with the boys, I was invited too. One night, Boy made a joke and looked at me as he laughed (checking to see if I was laughing too). And that’s how I knew we were something more.
February 8, 2019, our friend group went skating, but we decided to hang out after, just the two of us. I felt like I was getting special treatment (and keeping a secret). Boy was one of the few with his own car (Boy was a man like that) and so I sat in his front seat and watched, one by one, as he dropped the others off. I’m sure everyone knew something was up because I was usually one of the first ones to be dropped off (according to Boy’s mapped-out route). For the first time, it felt awkward as we walked back into his house. The silence felt different (telling). The unspoken tension pulled our thoughts and desires out from our minds and wove us together. We climbed the stairs to the attic couch.
I had imagined so many moments like this, but not like this.
His weight was crushing me. My glasses were cutting into my face.
I didn’t think it bothered me until I saw him the next day at school and started crying.