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40 - Unnamed

40 – Unnamed

Maya Sumedh

  “This is bullshit.”

  Sam’s voice was loud in the absolute silence of the room. It felt like it was not quite reaching my ears.

 The words on the screen, the little words in bold Times New Roman on my screen, seemed to be burning themselves slowly into my eyes. I felt a warmth rise in my body and at the same time a chill descend down my spine. Small beads of sweat broke out on my palms and my breathing got faster; I could feel the air whistling through my nose, in, out, in, out, in, out, and I felt – I felt – I don’t know what I felt.

 “Maya – this – you – why are you just sitting there?”

 I turned to look at Sam. He looked dumbstruck.

 “He’s alive,” was all I could say. From my other side I heard Layla make a noise of frustration.

 “He’s alive, but clearly he’s whacked in the head! Maya, do something.”

 I blinked at her. She too, like Sam, was gaping at me.

 “What do you want me to do?” I mumbled, looking back at the screen.

 “He’s – I just – are you just going to let this be?”

 I tried to slow down my breathing, but I needed everything I was taking in.

 “I don’t know. I...I don’t know.”

 Silence pervaded the room again.

 “I almost don’t even believe that it’s Luke,” Layla was saying suddenly.

 I shook my head. “No.”

 She met my gaze levelly.

 “It’s him,” I said simply. “I know it’s him.” Here I paused. I looked down at my hands. “I was scared of this.”

 “Maya,” Sam said quickly. “What do you mean?”

  I shook my head again. “Nothing. I just – I don’t know what to say to this.”

 Layla took my arm firmly, making me face her. I stared at the starched collar of her shirt instead of her eyes.

 “Maya. He doesn’t have the right to do this to you.”

 “So what do you want me to do, Lay, beg him to reconsider?” I demanded, my panic slowly getting replaced with sheer anger as I met her steady blue-green gaze.

 “No,” Sam said from my other side, his tone final. I looked at him and his jaw was set, his eyes fixed firmly on mine. “You’re not going to ask him to reconsider anything. He’s not doing you a fucking favour. I think you’re worth more than that.”

 I felt like hugging him; I did. I wrapped my arms around him and he did too, and we both squeezed so tight neither of us could breathe right.

 “What am I gonna do?” I mumbled into his scratchy sweater. “Sammy, what –”

 “Whatever you do, Maya, you’re not asking him to change his mind. If the jerk has the guts to do this, I don’t think he’s the kind of guy you should be with anyway.”

 The words stung, because I knew that Luke was exactly the kind of guy I wanted – needed – to be with – not just a type, just him, but clearly I wasn’t the kind of girl for him.

 I wondered why he told me he loved me when he didn’t.

 “Soapmouth, please don’t cry.”