You're Already Mine

Chapter Thirteen

TW: Slight abuse mention

I page through the movies on Netflix, settling on Nimona. I put it on mute, with subtitles, and we start improvising dialog. I am Nimona and the masculine characters, and Clover is the feminine characters.

We watch a bit until Pink Rhino Nimona crashes into a room in the castle. "I'm hungry for people," I say as the rhino's mouth moves, and everyone else on screen starts running and screaming. Clover laughs so hard I almost think she's crying until I see her smile.

"That was amazing," she says.

We keep watching until Nimona confronts Ballister: This is the guy who cut off your arm. Arm-chopping is not a love language! I grin at Clover and say, "Oh, so you're just gonna chop off people's arms and use them as candles just for the fun of it, huh?"

"Oh my god," she says, laughing into a pillow.

The movie plays on and on, and by the time we get tired of improvising dialog, she's started to anxiously pull on her hoodie sleeves as a few tears streak down her face. I pull her into a sudden hug, and she awkwardly pats my back.

"Wh-What's this for?" she asks timidly.

"Just a hug," I say as the movie plays on in the background. "It just looked like you needed it."

"Well, you were right."

"You okay?" I ask, my throat bouncing against her shoulder with each word. I feel her shake her head no. My fingers dig into her back as I hug her tight. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I mean.. sure.."

We pull apart, but I'm still holding her hand. "I'm here," I say.

"Well.. my parents got a divorce the night before we met. It's just memories. My mom was pretty abusive, so.."

"Did she ever do anything to you?" I ask.

"Sometimes.." Her voice trails off.

I stay looking into her sad eyes, thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"I don't really wanna talk about it anymore."

"That's okay, you don't have to."

She smiles sadly, a tear dropping from behind her glasses. I reach out and wipe the tear away; seeing her sad makes me sad. Another tear drops down.

"Oh, no, honey, please don't cry," I say softly, which only makes her cry harder, body racking with sobs. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. We sit like that for awhile, me hugging her as she cries into my shoulder. She digs her fingers into my back, but I don't mind, as long as I get to comfort her.

A few minutes later, her grip loosens and I realize she's fallen asleep in my arms. I gently let go and tuck her into bed, me sleeping next to her on top of the blankets. As I fall asleep, I can't help thinking about how lucky we are to have each other.

The week passes by in a flash and before I know it, I'm sixteen. My cousins that are aged two to ten on my mom's side burst into my room at sunrise- six-thirty in the morning- and start jumping on my bed, screaming, "Happy birthday! Happy birthday!"

I'm barely awake before I realize what day it is- the Fourth of July. Clover knocks on my door, looking at the mess my little cousins are in. She waits until they separate, and then throws a flexible package wrapped in the Amazon plastic onto my lap.

"Put these on," she insists.

I open the package, and inside lies an oversized black fleece-lined plaid flannel hoodie and a sky-blue tshirt. "I'm not complaining," I say. Then I look at her. "You okay?" I whisper. She shakes her head subtly, but then nods when my little cousins look at her. My gaze is full of concern.