Something smells fishy

In the dark

"I don't know either," I couldn't stand her indecisiveness. It made my blood boil with rage. The way she was sitting now, as if she was a puppy, my damn puppy, waiting for orders. My stomach twisted and turned into knots as I looked at her sitting with her knees folded under her frame, hands placed neatly on her knees. This was an execution for her. She came here, thinking I will linch her.

My morning omelet couldn't bear being in my stomach for another minute. A bitter taste of bile raised from the deepest of me, coating the insides of my mouth with a burning sensation of oncoming release. I ran to the bathroom just in time to lift the toilet cap and empty my insides of the heaviness. Tears ran down my face again, this time from the force of the purge. Once nothing was left, not even tea, I fell to the floor, that felt both cold and hot in equal manner. Breath after breath, my heart rate calmed down. The cloud lifted and my mind seemed clearer and lighter, just like my stomach. I pushed myself off the floor, but my hand caved in under me. I was weaker than I thought. I tried again. This time using both my hands and slowly pulling myself up while grabbing onto the sink. My eyes were red and the face bloated. Throwing up can do that to you, also crying yourself to sleep. I splashed some cold water onto my face and hurriedly brushed my teeth.

I took my time. I needed time. I also needed to talk to her again. I cracked the door to see if she was still there. She hadn't moved an inch, although this time her hands were tightly inter-whined. Miyu's face was frozen. Just like her brother's. Just like her mother's. While I had become this mad, if i were to see her for the first time, I would never believe this is a woman in distress. But I did know her, and while the face was impassionate, her shallow breathing, her white knuckles, her stiff body, told me she will continue to listen to any and all of my berating.

I pushed the door open and pushed myself into the living room. Miyu kept her stance. I made a step, then another. In less than five steps I was standing by her side. She was miserable, yet beautiful. If angels existed, they had to look like her. Skin as white as milk, hair as dark as coal, the curve of her neck elegantly leading towards a narrow back. She felt smaller than usual.

I didn't dare touch her. I feared I might brake her at the faintest contact with my boney fingers. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there. I was still there, with her, no matter what.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have raised my tone. Miyu, I am confused. I have a lot on my mind and I am not sure what to make of it all. Why didn't you tell me you are gay?"

With her head lowered, she slowly pulled her hands from their tight embrace and placed them gently in front of her. She lowered her weight onto them and bowed until her forehead made contact with the floor.

"Gommenasai."

It was short and high pitched.

"Gomenasai Amy san," she repeated over and over again. Her back expanded every time she took a breath and she used all of it to say that one word.

This girl took me on a rollercoaster of emotions, just like her brother. I felt no anger, no sympathy, no nothing anymore. I was in this moment, all of me succumbing to the realization of how far our worlds were.

I gently lowered my palm onto her shoulder and tapped lightly.

"Shh. It will all be alright, honey. You'll see," I whispered. Her body started to relax under my touch. There were no more tears to cry. We just stood there, on our knees, each dealing with this situation as best as we could.

We came from different worlds, we were as different as it gets, but here we were, trying to make things work, to make two cultures work.

***