Since, A Novel

xiii. THE GREAT PERISHING AFTER PENETRATION

xiii.
THE GREAT PERISHING
AFTER PENETRATION

               October 2018. Yūn's eyes were still on the court, after seconds they land on the rink, and to the empty stadium, then they were on the ground, and its metal bars, then finally to nowhere. The eyes badly wanted to see but have you ever experienced it; when you are seeing something but it does not make sense in your head? It would feel wrong, yes? Like the line between a dream and reality. And you would stay there for what would seem like an eternity but for the people around you, it had just lasted for only two breaths and a sigh. Something like that would always happen when the feeling of anxiety started creeping out in all parts of her body, apprehending the little sanity that she'd thought she had.

Even though she was aware that it would be unfair—and even if it were fair, it would leave her dishonored to be unkept, around others and herself—to slough herself off of the situation just because she could and just because it was beginning to feel uncomfortable, she could not bring her wits for a reasoning that could help her, or help her stay in the present moment—leaving everything of her helpless, high and dry, and dumbfounded, as she could not really forge a thought in the area's cold setting, and it was funny, her nebulous gaze, funny and displeasing and almost maddening.

She did not know Georgette well, but neither did she think that the whole thing—her sudden owning up, disclosure, apology, and confession—was not hewed out of a joke, though she was not completely immune to thinking that it was (but she wanted to think that it was) in any way, plausible that the other girl has only blurted out of, maybe, confusion, or wonderment between what befriending was and what liking was.

A part of Yūn was green with envy of the boldness and (or) effrontery that has manifested itself along the tension; that Georgette could, even though not eye to eye, sit idly with her legs slightly fidgeting, her feelings solidified and unyielding, just like Isla.

Isla, their grandmother, had told her once a year ago the night Yūn had her first period something mad and awakening: "You can't just stay in your room all day and not eat. Every girl and every woman have the experience selfsame as yours—and it is unfair to Su! It is unfair to be left wondering why her sister hasn't talked to her. Give it three days or a week, and you're good. You can sulk all you want but you don't just leave people. You don't leave people just like that!" although there was concern in her tone, it could not help but stray out of control, causing an ugly interjection.
          "But it hurts! It hurts," she had cried in her room.
          "It hurts and it won't stop bleeding."
          "Of course, lady! 'Tis your first day!" Isla had exclaimed through the door. "Su's with her little friends
          outside you know, she's playing. And she's
          definitely not having a good time 'cause
          Courtney's out there and Courtney's a bad news!
          And she's gonna come home in fifteen minutes.
          And you're gonna talk to her, you're gonna play
          with her, and you're not gonna do that again. You
          understand? You got the poor girl thinking like
          you're dead, or worse, she thinks you're angry at
          her! For Christ's sake!"

And she was afraid of even thinking of doing it again, not to Little Su, not to Isla. The thought of leaving and its, most of the time—or, having based off of their experiences—ugly consequences, was more than what flesh and blood could stand, even to the person who left (it was personally true, other than that and other than people, she couldn't bring herself to invite them to her understanding). Of course, she could not just leave people. Worst of all, she couldn't just leave people wordless and unthinking.