03/07/13 - 11:26 PM
I think I've fallen in love Lina. Being on set, seeing everything happen, it's just the most incredible thing. And, I mean, Matthew McConaughey is pretty cool I guess, but the sets! It's mostly the little things as well. Like I'll get excited while being directed around, whenever someone wearing a T-shirt and a headset tells me to follow them, I just do. And most of the time I don't even know where I'm going.
This was bound to happen, wasn't it? The one year you're not spending the entire summer on the other side of the planet, and you're actually staying in the city, I'm not. Maybe it's some form of karma, but I wouldn't be sure what for. Have you done anything immoral recently?
Yours truly,
Tim
—————
06/07/13 - 12:55 AM
I'm going to be completely honest, it kind of sounds like you like being told what to do. And no judgment here, whatsoever, different people are into different things I guess. I knew you'd like it though, filming. I still remember how you'd come back from a project when we were younger and just talk about it non-stop for at least a week. Pauline would get so annoyed, and I mean, I would too. Just didn't have the heart to tell you.
And I don't think I can answer that question: have you done anything immoral recently? Because even if I did, I don't think that I would have done so intentionally, in which case, I probably wouldn't even be aware of it. Like say I did something bad without knowing, as in its immoraality was obvious to everyone except for me. Should I be punished for it? On the one hand, I acted immorally, but on the other, I'm not an immoral person. And if I was completely oblivious to how bad of a thing I hypothetically did, would that exempt me from facing the consequences? Or would I be further damned for being ignorant of my actions?
Anyways, Canada sounds fun. I mean don't get me wrong, I love NY, but I can't deny that it's overrated. And calling it an 'international hub' is practically satirical. I know that this city is your baby, and you'd defend it blindly forever, but it's kind of fucked. It sounds like you're in paradise. What's it like across the border? How many moose have you seen? Moose? Meese? Mooses? English isn't my first language.
Have you considered that the bad karma might be your fault? Let me know if you've committed any minor crimes as of late (I'd prefer not to be an accomplice to the more major ones).
Lina xx
P.S: Even if I had been bad, why would I admit it?
—————
14/07/13 - 8:06 PM
I'm pretty sure it's 'moose'.
And how are you going to tell me that English isn't your first language. I've never heard you speak anything else. Actually, why haven't I ever heard you speak Korean? Are you actually fluent or is this just some grand scheme that you've been pulling off for years? Also, your English is better than mine, and Mrs Fitzgerald would one hundred percent agree with me on that.
I agree with a lot of the things you said about morality and immorality, except for the thing about ignorance. I think people get blamed or shunned for being ignorant far too often. Of course being ignorant isn't a good thing, in any way really, but an ignorant person doesn't know that they're ignorant, so how are we suppose to blame them for not knowing something that they didn't know they were supposed to know. If that makes any sense.
And if we apply the same Idea to immorality, I don't think you'd be entirely responsible for acting immorally if you had absolutely no idea that that's what you were doing. In my case, yeah, I'd say there are a few things I did that I probably wasn't supposed to do. But I don't think it was anything bad enough to deprive us of our one chance to spend a summer together (I know I'm being dramatic because there's always next year, but right now I'm upset).
I moved into the student dorms by the way. And I know that my parents live like three stops away, but I wanted my own space. Oh and I have a roommate, so that didn't really work. His name's Jared. I've only spoken to him once but he seemed alright, normal. Except he's got this copy of The Little Prince that he covets like it's worth more than his life or something. Who knows, maybe it's special edition?
My return flight has been booked for august 5th. Wanna come meet me at the airport?
Yours Truly,
Tim
—————
20/07/13 - 2:33 AM
You're not being dramatic. And you're allowed to be upset you know.
Jared sounds... kind of strange. But hey, if he sucks as a roommate you can always just move back in with your parents. Like you said, they live really close. Now, I'm curious about that copy of The Little Prince. Do you remember when we had to read it for AP Lit?
There was that one line,
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
I don't know, I just think about it sometimes. I think it's referring to how time is the most valuable thing a person can have. Making it the most valuable thing a person can give. No matter how rich you are or how good of a person you are, you can never get any more of it. It's just finite.
Like, a parent can buy their child extravagant and expensive things, but the child would probably love them more if they spent time together. Relationships thrive on quality time and that could also be why long distance so often doesn't workout. And I've never been more grateful for anything that you've given me, then the gift of your time.
There will be other summers, next year, the year after that, and every year for the rest of your life. But you'll never get this time back, and you can be upset about that. I know that I am.
Also, I've started seeing someone.
Lina xx
—————
20/07/13 Unsent
You've started seeing someone? Who? Is it someone I know?
—————
21/07/13 Unsent
Good for you. I'm not surprised.
I mean, I don't think it would be hard for you to find someone?
—————
26/07/13 - 11:01 PM
That's nice. How did you meet him?
Assuming it is a 'him'.
Yours truly,
Tim
—————
27/07/13 - 4:53 AM
Yes, he is a him. His name's Martin and I met him at work.
He's nice. I think you'd like him.
Lina xx
—————
That was a lie.
Martin was a regular at the cafe where Lina worked. He'd come in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning without fault, and order the same black coffee each time, always double shot, never with sugar. This was all true, but Lina was lying when she told Timothee that she thought he'd like Martin.
In truth, Martin was most things Timothee hated. He wore patterned shorts when the sun was out and those small round sunglasses that barely blocked out any sun. His brown hair was buzzed closely to his scalp and he had the slightest bit of stubble that made it look like there was always a shadow on his face. A pair of Birkenstocks were his go-to, and he sported them religiously, no matter the occasion, and he called everyone dude, regardless of gender or position.
All of the lamps at his place were paper-based and shone yellow light onto his house plants (of which there were too many to count). He had mandalas hanging on his walls and a pull out couch that Lina would sink into, especially when he was on top of her. He believed in ghosts and bad omens, was always knocking on wood and crossing his fingers. There was no way he and Timothee would get along, on any earth, in any universe.
But Martin was nice, and undeniably charming. He'd made friendly conversation with Lina while she took his order and it was fun to flirt. He'd started leaving more and more tips, until eventually, he asked her to write her number down on the sleeve of his coffee. There was no harm in seeing where things went, so she did.
That was at the beginning of July, and things just continued from there. Lina wasn't entirely sure what they were doing to be honest, but they essentially just agreed not to see other people. It surprised her a little bit when he asked her, she hadn't considered that he could have been speaking to other girls. Lina found the idea of having multiple romantic interests exhausting.
So they were dating, apparently. Sometimes, after she was done working, Lina would go to his apartment and spend the night with him. Actually, sometimes was an understatement. It was almost every night. She didn't like to be alone, and even thought she had a roommate and her own home was never really empty, she wanted to have someone in her bed. Lina decided that Martin could be that person.
They did normal things, like going out for meals, and she met his friends. Martin was two years older and wasn't going to college, so most of his circle revolved around a love of reggae music and recreational drugs. Lina joined them sometimes, and the highs always felt great, but she got the impression his friends didn't really like her. They thought she was immature and couldn't really understand why Martin was with her.
And Lina couldn't really disagree. Sometimes she also wondered why he was with her. But then Martin would call her beautiful and say something to make her laugh. She enjoyed his company and liked having someone to spend her nights with. Lina could only assume that Martin sought the same from her.
—————
02/08/13 - 12:14 AM
I'm happy if you're happy.
—————
02/08/13 - 10:02 AM
I think I am.
I won't be able to meet you at the airport, I have to pick up an extra shift at the cafe on the fifth. Sorry. When are you next free?
Lina xx
—————
03/08/13 - 9:58 PM
There's going to be a party at the dorms that night. If ur free, I'd like you to be there. You could meet some of the people in my hall, discuss The Little Prince in depth with Jared. It'll be fun.
Marvin can come too if he wants.
Yours truly,
Tim
—————
"You said you'd go."
Lina stood on the underground platform, rocking on her heels as she impatiently waited for the next train to arrive. She was wearing a white top which hung loosely over her shorts, an old denim jackets which could have either been Matt's or her father's, and her worn and torn pair of Cortez's. Martin was on the other end of the call as she held her phone up to her ear.
"When did I say that?" He countered.
"When I asked you, yesterday." Internally, Lina wanted to yell at him, but in reality she was whispering through the phone. If she hadn't been in a public place, she would have been louder, more expressive. But it was a Friday night and the tracks were busy.
Lina's train arrived and she waited for people to get off before making her way into the car. She sat on one of the far ends and rest her head against the wall, closing her eyes and tuning into the voice speaking to her. "You're imagining things Lina. I never agreed to go to some party."
She turned to face the corner, hiding herself and her conversation from the other passengers. "That's not fair Martin. Are you even busy?"
"I've got some of the guys coming over. You know them." He assured her, thinking she was worried that he was hanging around some bad people. Lina sort of wish she didn't know them, seeing as the ones she did know, she didn't like.
"But what about my friend? He invited us."
"College parties are the worst Lina. They serve cheap booze and all they play is soulless rap music. It's mind numbing."
"Then just come and meet Tim."
"I'll make an effort to meet your friends when you make an effort to meet mine."
Lina frowned. "What are you talking about. They're the ones who don't like having me around." She looked at the orange LED writing panning along above the exits. Her stop was approaching. "Why do I have to put in all the effort? What about them? Why can't you ask them to be nicer to me?"
The call fell silent and without either of their voices to listen to, Lina realized she was breathing quite heavily. Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling and then inhaling again after realizing she hadn't taken enough air the first time. For a second she thought he might have hung up, but then he spoke.
"I don't think this is working out Lina." The first punch.
"We're too different." The second.
"We're not looking for the same things at the moment." The third.
"You'll understand what I mean in a few years, when you're older." The final blow.
Lina was speechless. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, the sheer audacity of his words, astounding. The train screeched momentarily, slowing down before halting with only a slight kick back. Lina stood up, ready to get off. "Are you going to say anything?" She heard him ask through the phone. The girl pursed her lips and twisted them to one side, pondering his question briefly before clicking her tongue, having found her answer.
"I'd rather not."
Lina hung up on him and made her way back out onto the platform. She was done. Anything she might have had to say to him went unspoken, knowing she would probably regret saying it later on.
The station was crowded and Lina noticed that most of the people waiting to catch the next train were either soaking wet or holding umbrellas. She swore under her breath. It must be raining. Walking up the steps, she racked her brain trying to devise a way to get to the campus without getting drenched.
She could run as fast as possible, spend less time out in the open. She could stick to the alleys and take cover under balconies, although it would probably be dangerous to do so alone at this time of night. There was always the option of taking a taxi, but it might have been difficult to catch one, not to mention a bit of a waste of money.
But as Lina emerged from the underground, back out into the open air, she discovered that her worrying had been futile. Because across the street, standing tall in a black windbreaker and sweats, underneath a large umbrella with a wide smile plastered across his face, was Timothee.
She took her time, watching him as he looked around, searching for her in the crowd flooding out of the exit. Seeing him tore all thoughts of Martin out of her mind. She'd missed him while he'd been away.
Timothee finally noticed her and after checking first right then left, crossed the street to join her. Wordlessly, she stepped under the umbrella and the two of them headed towards the dorms. Timothee put an arm around her shoulder to keep her close and out of the rain.
He knew the umbrella wasn't made for two people, and half of him was sticking out from under its cover. But he wasn't going to tell Lina any of that, because she'd just protest. And he didn't mind getting a little bit wet, so long as she was comfortable.
"Did Marlin not want to come?" He asked and Lina drew her lips into a line. Timothee directed her around a corner marked by a late night deli. She'd never been to the college before, but Timothee seemed to be familiar with the route.
"It's Martin." She said. "And we broke up."
He side eyed her from above, trying to read her expression, to see if she was upset, how he should respond. Lina seemed unaffected. "Shit," he said, "I'm sorry."
Their shoes obstructed the still puddles that gathered on the sidewalk. Turning one final corner, Timothee brought them to a stop. The doors to his building were tall and wide open, up a small flight of stairs with metal railings on either side and down the center. They could hear the music from where they were standing, bass heavy.
Timothee moved in front of Lina, blocking her view of everything other than himself. "If it makes you feel any better, I never liked him." Lina laughed and shook her head at him, throwing her head back and staring at him straight in the eyes.
"You never even met him."
Most of the people attending the party had gathered on the second floor, dispersed throughout the corridor. The doors to all the dorm rooms were open and people just streamed in and out of them, drinking, talking, dancing, kissing. It was pretty obvious that most of them weren't Columbia students, wearing gear from other colleges, NYU, Barnard, and even a few from Guttman.
Timothee stood behind Lina with both of his hands on her shoulders, leading her through the narrow space. Occasionally, someone would fly across the hallway, from one dorm into the one opposite from it. Timothee would pull her back and they'd pause for a moment to make sure that it wasn't going to happen again before continuing.
The lights were dim and red solo cups, both empty and semi full, littered the carpeted floor. Lina wasn't really sure what was happening, or what she was supposed to be doing, but the music was loud and the air was hot, and she trusted him. Timothee seemed calm, and that helped her greatly.
At the end of the hall, a small circle of people were gathered, some sitting on the floor, on a tattered old brown couch, while others just leaned against the walls. As they approached, Timothee stepped forwards to greet them, shaking hands, patting each other on the back, calling out each other's names the way they Lina had seen people do in movies.
She was happy just hovering in the background, but he insisted on introducing her. To them she was Lina, his friend from high school. And to her, they were Raina the environmental sciences student, Darren the politics major, Dylan from psychology, and Gabriel who was doing a law degree.
Sammy was also there, who Lina recognized from school. But it came as a surprise to her that he knew her name. She knew he and Timothee were friends and had been for years, but they'd never really spoken to one another. Lina hadn't considered that Timothee might have spoken about her to his other friends seeing as she never really spoke about him to any one else.
"In four years of presidency Obama did fucking nothing," Darren started, "Give me one good reason why he was reelected." Timothee had taken a seat on one end of the couch with Lina sitting on the floor by his feet. She had an elbow resting on his knee to prop herself up and her legs bent, resting at her side.
She could feel his hand on the back of her head, rubbing subtle circles where it met her neck. Lina was content just listening to everyone talk, not too keen on saying anything herself. But everyone seemed to have so much to say, and Timothee was willing to join them in saying it.
"He was reelected because the country voted for him Darren. That's how elections work." Said Raina, causing the group to laugh. She flashed her teeth at him, perfectly aligned and perfectly white. "You know that's not what I'm talking about," He continued, waving her off. "How has he helped the citizens of this country?"
"The affordable care act." Lina heard Timothee offer from behind her. "Health insurance for children born with pre-existing conditions. Saved a lot of lives didn't it?"
"Okay but what about all the lives that were lost in Iraq?" Darren countered. "They cancel out." Lina took a sip, emptying the can of beer in her hand before placing it down on the floor beside her and leaning her head against Timothee's leg.
"Obama didn't even start that war, Bush did." Added Sammy from where he was standing. "Why not question his two-term presidency?"
Darren crossed his arms and looked to Sammy. The soft yellow light casted a Remnrandt triangle on his cheek, against his tanned skin. "Look, all I'm saying is that under his administration, the US is going to fall apart the way Egypt did in eleven." He said.
Timothee spoke up then. "How is this anything like what happened in Egypt? It's not even remotely similar."
With a roll of his eyes, Darren responded. "You're studying anthropology Tim. You wouldn't get it."
Lina felt his hand fall from the nape of her neck. She placed a flat palm over his knee to get it to stop bouncing and turned to look up at him. Timothee was just watching Darren speak with hooded eyes and an unimpressed frown. She could tell he wasn't going to say anything more.
He wasn't the kind to seek conflict, his mother always told him to be the 'bigger person'. He would let others win, or at least think they won. Walk away from a fight before it got physical. That's what he'd done at the school dance when retrieving Lina's clutch from Connor Adams' car. Walked away, because it wasn't worth it.
"I don't really get why you seem so shocked by Obama's reelection." Said Lina, speaking for what was essentially the first time that night. "Approximately half of this country's presidents served two-terms. Not to mention the fact that the democratic party's victory was practically guaranteed after Bush. The reelection was predictable. The country is globalizing and he's the most popular candidate overseas, already during his first campaign in 07, but even more so after his first term."
Lina was still leaning against the boy's leg, nonchalantly, was if she hadn't a care in the world. She shrugged everything off, was completely untouchable. "I'm not even really a supporter, I was raised through the church, but it's simple politics." She glanced at Darren.
He'd gone completely silent, tapping his foot faintly on the ground. Lina had already looked away. She'd said her piece, it had had the intended effect. The conversation was over. But Timothee observed the boy sitting across from them, on the other side of the coffee table, as his gaze trained on her.
"Let's talk about something else."
—————
Later that night, Timothee and Lina separated from the group and made their way to the stairwell. It was quieter there, and they could actually hear what the other was saying. He told her more about what filming was like in Canada, showed her some of the photos he'd taken on his phone.
She pried for the plot, but Timothee kept a tight seal on his lips. No spoilers. "You'll just have to go see it when it comes out." He teased.
Lina laughed. "Well I was going to do that anyways."
The air had grown hot, and she'd put it down to there being so many people around. A little while earlier, she'd taken off her jacket and tied it around her waist. The T-shirt she was wearing underneath had a boat neck and Timothee could see her bra strap. It was baby pink.
He reached forward and tucked it back under the fabric of her shirt, without really realizing what he was doing. "Do you want to talk about Martin?" He asked, letting his arm fall back to his side. Lina shook her head. "Then do you want to talk about what you've been doing?"
Looking back at it, this would have probably been the best moment for Lina to tell him about her family, or more specifically, her lack thereof. He'd asked her the question, and she could simply tell him that she'd been emancipated, the she'd moved into a new apartment, and that she'd started working multiple minimum wage jobs to make her keep.
Her father had left her money. A lot of it, actually. But Lina didn't want to touch any of it. Other than photos, memories, and her name, it was all she had left of him. An amount in her bank account, a number on a screen, the key to an easy life.
She could have told him about all of it. He'd asked her the question and she'd just be giving him an answer. Sure, he may wonder why she hadn't told him sooner but it would only be worse the longer she left it.
But then he looked at her smiling, excited to hear about everything she'd been doing while he was having the time of his life up north. And she realised that telling him would probably taint all of those memories he had of filming. That every time he thought about them, he'd first remember how amazing the experience had been, but then soon get fixed on what she was going through while he was away. Lina didn't want to risk giving him that guilt.
"I haven't really been doing much." She told him. "I spent most of my summer with Martin."
Timothee sucked in his cheeks. "Then do you want to talk about..." he hesitated, "...graduation?"
There was a short pause before Lina responded, but to Timothee it felt like it could have just become the next day. "We said we wouldn't."
That was what they had agreed on. But Timothee couldn't stop thinking about what had happened that night. He couldn't stop picturing it, reliving it while he slept, unconscious but suffering. And she couldn't stop beating himself for how they'd left things. He didn't think she'd understood him at all, at least not the way he'd intended her to.
He looked at her hopefully, her answer hadn't been definitive. 'We said we wouldn't' could mean she was willing to break the rules. 'We said we wouldn't', but ok.
"I don't think we should." She added. "Ever."
For Lina, it had been one of the most embarrassing nights of her life. It didn't turn out to be what she thought it would be, and Timothee's promise to keep it a secret hadn't really been what she wanted to hear. She felt stupid for thinking it might have meant something different. Something more.
"I want to see your room." Lina was changing the subject, it wasn't at all discreet, but Timothee was grateful that she was doing so. They weren't going to talk about it. Ever, apparently.
He took her hand and led her up to the fourth floor. It was significantly emptier, and as a result, quieter. She learnt that his dorm was three doors down and to the left. Lina leaned back against the door across from his own with her arms crossed in front of her chest, watching as he searched his pockets for his keys.
He found them eventually and placed them into the lock, twisting and then cracking the door open. Timothee poked his head in first to check if Jared, his roommate, was there. Looking into the empty room, he determined that he must still be downstairs at the party. He walked in and Lina followed close behind.
Timothee turned on a standing lamp in the corner of the room beside his desk. There were two of them, just like how there were two twin beds, two bedside tables, and two closets. Lina went to sit on the end of his bed, smoothing her palm over the familiar dark blue blanket.
"You brought this one from home?" She asked, looking over at him. Timothee was awkwardly trying to clean up his room, clearing papers and shoving his half full suitcase under his desk. He'd only arrived back earlier that day and hadn't found the time to unpack yet. Timothee turned away from his tidying for a moment to see what she was referring to before nodding.
He was surprised she remembered, seeing as she hadn't been in his room for nearly two years at that point, but didn't say anything. It just didn't feel necessary. "You can stop cleaning." She let him know. "I really don't care." He laughed and moved to join her on his bed.
The springs squeaked out a high pitch cry as he sat down, and Lina felt the mattress sink beside her. She stared down at her hands, resting in her lap. Timothee followed her line of sight to her hands as well, watching as they fidgeted. She touched the base of her fingers as if searching for something. A ring she no longer wore, one she no longer owned, part of a faith she no longer upheld.
"He broke up with me over the phone..." she said, "while I was on my way here."
Timothee just shifted backwards, further onto the bed. A sort of subliminal signal to let her know that she could do the same. "Why?" He asked her. The window above his bed was closed, and without any curtains, blue light seeped into the room and onto Lina's face as she turned her body around to face him.
It was still raining outside, and the light was spotted, leaving gaps of shade on her features, parts of her face remaining darker than others. "I couldn't get along with his friends," she told him, "I was too young."
And suddenly, Lina looked so small again. No longer the confident version of herself she had been when conversing with Darren among his peers. No longer the seemingly happy girl he had picked up from the subway exit and walked to the dormitory. No longer the person she had been a few seconds ago.
Now she looked the way she had when he went to see her a couple days after the dance, curled up in bed with hair falling in front of her eyes. "He wasn't a bad first boyfriend." She said. "He was actually really nice."
She removed her shoes and turned fully, sitting cross legged on top of his covers. She outstretched a hand to play with the thin silver chain hanging around his neck. She'd seen it before. It was something he wore often.
"What would you do with him? When you guys were together?" He asked, leaning forwards to give her better access to his jewelry. He didn't want her arms to tire from having to reach for it.
"Normal stuff." She said, "What everyone else does."
Timothee frowned. "What does everyone else do?" He looked down at Lina who was still running the thin metal piece between her index and her thumb. It felt nice against her skin. Cold.
Lina shrugged at his question. "We'd eat, go on walks, watch TV, sleep together."
"What do you mean by sleep together?"
Lina dropped the chain and finally met his gaze. Her expression was unreadable. Somewhere between irritated, humorous, and sad all at once. "He was my boyfriend," she deadpanned, "What do you think I mean."
The room suddenly grew quiet and the soft buzz from Timothee's lamp combined with the tapping of rain against glass came to the foreground. Lina waited a moment to see what he had to say, whether or not he was going to speak. Upon realizing that he wasn't, she took a hold of his chain once again.
"It made him happy," She told him. "He seemed to enjoy it." Timothee thought Lina seemed different. She wasn't usually this open, didn't usually speak about these kinds of things. But maybe it was only because until about a month ago, she never really knew what she was talking about.
"Did you enjoy it?" He asked her. At this moment, he was actually relieved that she wasn't looking at him, still interested in what was hung around his neck. Timothee probably wouldn't have asked the questions he was asking if he knew she was reading his every reaction. He had an expressive face, and a lot of the time it gave him away.
Lina might have been the only person in the world who couldn't read it.
"I like that he enjoyed it." She shared. "It felt nice, knowing he wanted me so much."
Timothee just hummed. What was he supposed to say to that. How could he respond to something so troubling. How was he supposed to tell Lina that that wasn't normal, or what a healthy relationship looked like.
She was so peaceful as she was, then, in his dorm room. Sitting in front of him, completely content just playing with his necklace. He couldn't do it.
And then Lina let go, and Timothee felt the chain fall back against his chest. She placed a hand on either of his knees and moved forwards, closer, until he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo. A familiar smell, one he found comforting.
She gazed up at him through her eyelashes, blinking once, twice, and then tilting her head back to better see his face. "What about you?" She asked.
"What do you want Tim?"
Timothee wasn't sure if Lina was aware of the effect she had on him, but didn't think she did. She'd never done this before. She'd never been this forward. He wondered if she knew what she was doing.
The question was harmless in theory. Like asking a child what they want for Christmas or for their birthday. A way of naturally continuing the conversation, asking the other person a relevant question.
But with Lina in front of him, so close, so quiet, with her warm hands and kind heart, her wide eyes and soft hair, the question was dangerous. Because to answer truthfully would be a confession, but lying to her would be a sin.
Honesty is the best policy. Is it not?
He only had to lean a few centimeters down to meet her lips. That's how close she had been. And as if she had expected it, Lina's hands rose to cup both of his cheeks. This was new. Timothee may have moved first, but Lina moved further.
She kneeled on the blanket, standing on her knees so that now he was the one beneath her. Her hands felt smooth as they dragged along his face, down his neck, before resting underneath his jaw. The kiss was eager, urgent, messy, and Timothee grabbed a hold of her hips, along the top of her low waisted Levi's.
"Is this what you want?" She asked him, blissfully. Timothee muttered a 'yes' in the crook of her neck. She pulled him back up, hands back on his face as he tried to kiss her, nudging forward. Lina dodged, needing to know for sure.
"Is this all that you want."
Timothee didn't even have to think, to consider her question. She was all he had ever wanted, all he could ever imagine himself wanting. She was more than enough, perhaps even too much. Timothee thought he might overdose. For her to be happy, and joyful, and comfortable was his greatest wish.
His answer was 'yes', and he said it firmly.
Unfortunately, Lina saw things differently. 'Is this all that you want', nothing more, nothing less. From Lina's perspective, Timothee had just told her that this, as in sex, meaningless and impulsive, was all he wanted from her. That wasn't the truth, but how could she have known. She was ok just being with him like this. So long as it made him happy.
They reconnected and Lina felt his fingers play with the hem of her shirt, toying with it. She pressed closer, harder, in encouragement, and Timothee began to lift the fabric up. His fingertips felt cold against her stomach, and then her ribcage. And then he stopped. He hesitated.
"Are you agreeing to do this because you know it's what I want?" He asked. That wasn't what Timothee wanted. He didn't want Lina to think he was like Martin, didn't want her to think that he had the same intentions, the same ideas. He only wanted her to go through with it if it was what she wanted.
"No."
And technically it was true, because Lina wanted to touch him, wanted for him to touch her. But she was also just giving him the answer she thought he'd prefer. Because she knew it would make him happy. It may not have been the only reason, but it was one nonetheless.
Timothee didn't question her any further. He had trust. He may have misplaced it. But it was there and it kept him calm. Lina's T-thirt was only the first article of clothing to be removed that night.
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The city gleamed through Timothee's window, multicolored from the billboards dashed with blue from the moon and the deep night sky. The rain had stopped. The world was quiet.
Light fell upon his face, half of which rested against Lina's bare stomach. She was laying on his bed in her underwear, her head on his pillow, on top of his covers. Her hand scratched circles against his scalp, in the thick of his curls, slowly, gently.
The only word Timothee could think of to describe the feeling was caress. He felt as though he was being caressed. Sure, his feet were hanging a little bit off the ends of his bed, but he was more comfortable than he'd ever been before.
If Lina's hand wasn't moving, Timothee would have assume she'd fallen asleep. That's how still she was, how silent. But he could feel her breathing as his head would rise and fall along with her chest in a rhythmic fashion.
Maybe they were just too comfortable with each other. Maybe that was the problem. Because this wasn't something friends did, at least not normally. Maybe if they had some fear, some worry that they could potentially ruin their friendship, they wouldn't have gone through with it.
But both of them knew that that was never going to happen. Neither of them were risking anything. It was like the emails, kept separate and isolated from their lives. It couldn't have any impact on the important things unless they let it.
"You must be exhausted." Said Lina, realizing he'd probably been awake for upwards of twenty hours. When she spoke, she did so carefully. As if there were something in the room she was afraid of breaking, and speaking too loudly would cause it to topple over and shatter across the floor.
"I'm alright." He mumbled. Timothee's voice could have given him away, course and gravelly from fatigue. But he also just sounded that way sometimes, when relaxed. Lina assumed it was the latter.
He was actually tired. His eyelids heavy and fighting to shut, to let him fall asleep. But he wouldn't let himself go, not while here, like this, with her. He wasn't willing to waste this moment in unconsciousness. Timothee wanted to remember all of it, for the rest of his life.
"What are we doing?" He asked her, "What is this?"
He felt her hand brush through his hair to rest in the space behind his ear. She let out a sigh and Timothee felt himself sink into her. "Nothing, I suppose." She told him. Had that not been his answer? When she asked him if he wanted to sleep with her, had he not said 'yes'? When she asked him if that was all he wanted to do with her, had he not given the same answer?
Her calling what they were doing 'nothing' hurt, it confused him. He thought he'd told her he wanted her. He'd confessed. So in his mind, from her response, he'd also just been rejected. "Does it scare you at all?" He tried, wanting to know if there was any part of her who saw this as something bigger.
"Not really." Lina said. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Timothee didn't know what to say, how to react. Lina wasn't sure if she should asked the question she could feel circling her mind endlessly, rising up her throat like bile.
"It doesn't mean anything, right?"
If Timothee had looked up at her then, he might have been able to see what what happening. That again, Lina was only asking the question's she thought he wanted to hear. Giving him a way to say the things he wanted to, but felt he couldn't. What she wants was for him to disagree with her.
If he'd looked up, then he could have told her that she was wrong. That this meant more to him than he was able to admit, was confident enough to express. But the way she'd said it, and the way he'd heard it, was as if it weren't even a question, as if she was expecting him to agree with her. Something had gotten lost in translation.
"Right." He said.
Lina's eyes grew damp. Lying down, gravity worked to trickle no more than a couple tears down the outer corners of her eyes. She felt them, wet, running across her ears before disappearing into her hair. She couldn't wipe them away. Timothee would notice.
"I'm thinking about moving to Korea." She said, out of the blue. It was sudden, and Timothee was surprised. He lifted his head off of her stomach and climbed up the bed to sit against the backboard. He looked down at Lina on his left, her short hair spread out across his pillow. Ebony black against fresh white linen.
"Why?" He asked her, meeting her gaze. In the absence of sunlight, her eyes looked full, like eclipses as they happened worlds away. "Why not." She said, begging for him to answer her with nothing more than a look.
Ask me not to go.
Ask me to stay.
"For how long?"
He watched as she averted her gaze and stared blankly up at the ceiling. A second passed, then two, then three, before she sat up as well, throwing her legs off the edge of his bed, the same way she had sat when she first entered the room.
Timothee observed her where she was sitting, in her soft pink bra and matching underwear, the blunt ends of her hair grazing her bare shoulders, fringe falling forwards, hands holding herself, covering her chest. He could see some of her veins, faint streaks of green under her pale skin, and the slight bumps of her spine as she slouched. She looked to her right, at him.
He looked defeated, half sunken down the face of the backboard, his messy hair and loose boxer shorts. The bed sheets creased under him, dragging down as he fell farther. He had one knee bent, the other outstretched as he lightly scratched his chest.
Lina caught a glimpse of his chain as it caught the moonlight shining through his window. She'd been messing with it just a little while ago, before he'd started asking her about Martin, before he suddenly kissed her, before he implied that it was just sex. It looked so innocent then, hanging around his neck, but Lina blamed it for luring her in, closer to him. She reached for her T-shirt, thrown over the back of his desk chair.
"I'll have to think about it."
—————
Lina had left shortly after, once having gathered her belongings, redressing, and giving Timothee a few reasons why she couldn't spend the night that weren't just 'because I don't want to'. She told him it would be awkward if his roommate came back, that she had work in the morning, that her own roommate would worry.
Timothee insisted he take her back. It was late, dark, and the city could be dangerous. But Lina told him she'd get a taxi, and that he should sleep, seeing as he hadn't done so after his flight.
The whole thing was rushed. Lina rushing to get out of the building. Timothee rushing to convince her that she could stay. But in the end she put her arms through the sleeves of her denim jacket, slipped on her shoes, pulled their backs out from under her heels, and stood on her toes to amicably kiss him on the cheek.
'Goodnight', she'd said to him, closing his door behind her. He heard the door knob click as it shut, followed by her footsteps growing quiet as she made her way to the stairwell. He could still hear the thumping of music downstairs from the party. It made Timothee feel empty.
Jared rolled in at some time in the AM, horribly drunk and mildly incoherent. When he returned, Timothee had been sat on his bed with his laptop in his lap, the screen lighting up his face in the otherwise dark room. He watched his friend stumble across the space until his knees hit the end of his bed and he collapsed onto the mattress.
Jared used his feet to kick off his shoes, burying his head into his pillow before groaning and pulling the sheet over top of his head. Timothee heard him speak, his voice muffled by the fabric, but still audible.
"Dude go to sleep it's fucking four in the morning," he slurred.
Timothee looked back at the page he had open. A single line of writing, which he had probably written over half an hour ago and hadn't been able to add to since. What was there to even say?
The caret, the little placement line at the end of his work, blinked steadily as if taunting him. He hated it, just waiting for him to come up with a way to fix a problem he knew nothing about. He ran his hand over his eyes, rubbing his palm over his face. Timothee gave up.
He didn't want Lina to go to Korea. Part of him worried that he wouldn't recognize the person who'd return. He could already notice her changing, little shifts in her disposition, differences in her behavior. She'd changed after her dad passed, and it was happening again. It started after the dance, after Connor.
His index finger on his trackpad led the cursor to the red x in the corner of the window. He pressed it, firmly, watching it disappear. And closing the laptop, Timothee decided that Jared was right. Although he highly doubted he'd be able to get any sleep.
Maybe this was his karma. Maybe he had done something immoral.
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06/08/13 Unsent
Are you running away from me?
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