I stood on his toes as we swayed on the kitchen floor, not old enough to drink and not old enough to dance like adults.
His hands gripped tightly around my waist, and my arms were bound tightly around his neck.
Maybe it was the vodka rushing through my system, or maybe it was the spinning spinning spinning in circles in this house, but I had this terrible feeling in my stomach.
That maybe things weren't supposed to be this way.
It had been four years. We met freshman year when we were assigned lab partners and I accidentally spilled a nasty mix of chemicals on the lab desk and melted a hole through the middle of his chemistry notebook.
He told me that if I wanted his attention so badly there were much less dangerous ways of getting it.
I laughed and told him that it was the universe telling him he needed to stop copying my lab notes since I was probably more lost than he was anyways.
He asked me to come study with him that night.
And from that day forward, we were inseparable. At that exact moment in time, we became Addy & Sam. We became a pair. Our lives began to intertwine in ways that felt suffocating beautiful. Almost like how a tumor grows together with your body and sometimes its safer to leave it be rather than removing it because if you try to detach the tumor from the millions of tiny blood vessels enveloping it, you run the risk of the removal killing you before the tumor even gets a chance to.
The next year in science class, the teacher told us that everything in the entire world was made of atoms. I couldn't wrap my head around how everything in the world could be made up of the same things when everything is so different. Sam told me that our atoms must've been close together when the world was formed and that's why we had our connection. Because our atoms had finally found each other again. I thought that sounded silly, but I smiled and told him it sounded lovely because Sam always says things like that.
We were together through everything. Every first, we had with each other. First love. First car. First missed curfew. First big fight with parents. First sip of alcohol. First DUI. First big fight with each other. First bruise.
And I know what you're thinking. Why didn't you leave the second he hit you? How could you continue to love someone that hurt you? But remember, sometimes its easier to live with the tumor.
Last year in biology, we learned about how there are different genes for different traits. Like there are genes that code for eye color. And genes that code for hair color. Genes that code for gender. There are genes for every single part of you. Did you know there's a gene for alcoholism?
One time Sam and I went to the movies and they kicked us out because Sam was slurring and cursing at the popcorn maker for not putting enough butter on our popcorn. The poor kid looked terrified when Sam tried to climb over the counter. I was mortified and apologized profusely as the security guard drug him out the door. I told him it probably wasn't a good idea to drink that entire bottle of whiskey before the movie but he said it was fine since I was driving. It wasn't fine, and we didn't get to watch our movie. I had to wear a scarf for a week to hide the hand marks on my neck. But it was okay. I just set a mental reminder to tell the popcorn maker to give us extra butter next time.
A few weeks ago in physics class, the teacher told us what goes up, must come down. Which I know means objects and gravity, but I think it's also true for people's feelings. Because for the first year, everything was up, and then it all went down. And though sometimes it feels like it's going back up, I don't think it really is. Is there any laws about things going up and staying there? Just floating in the air forever? Because that's how I thought things would be. But I'm learning now that there's much more down than there ever was up. And I'm not sure how much more of this down I can take.
I don't think I've ever been more sure that Sam was wrong about our atoms being drawn to each other. The only thing Sam is drawn to these days is a bottle.
And standing here, in Sam's parents' kitchen, I am finally starting to wonder if it's all worth it.
My head is spinning spinning spinning and my heart is too. He kisses me and all I taste is vodka. He doesn't even smell like Sam anymore. But in all honesty, he isn't Sam anymore. Not the Sam I fell in love with three years ago. Not the sweet boy who copied my lab notes. This person looks like Sam and sounds like Sam, but the Sam I knew was long gone. He had been replaced by a tumor. Growing around me and encompassing my life, to the point that I wasn't sure I would ever make it out alive. Because whether I chose to risk the surgery and remove him, or let him stay, I was fucked either way.
Maybe I should leave him. But how could you leave your soulmate? I would never find another one. Soulmates are forever, aren't they? But then again, maybe there are no such things as soul mates.
