THE BODY KNOWS MORE THAN ANYTHING
Irin takes me to the coffeehouse this afternoon. It takes us a long time to get here because she has to drag me out of bed, take me to the shower, help me get dressed, have a conversation with Della about last night, eat brunch with me and Irin in the kitchen because Della has already made it for us, and listen to Irin babble about food—how I was when I visited Irin's house for dinner, whether I ate well, what Irin's mom made, what my favorite dish was, and so on.
And here we are at the coffeehouse, sitting like old ladies, exhausted from the day before, drinking tea and coffee so our bodies can function. Irin drinks coffee—she's a coffee addict. Her usual drink is a caramel latte.
I drink tea. I prefer the herbal scent rather than the mixed sour and bitter smell. It calms me, unlike the girl sitting across from me. She's starting to regain her energy.
"What!?" she shouts.
Now I know she's back from the dead. "You kissed!?"
"Shh—don't shout." I sip my iced jasmine tea. It smells so lovely. "He kissed me, and I kissed him back—we kissed."
"My, how was it?" she asks with sparkling eyes, leaning toward me.
I don't have to picture our kiss because I can still feel it, even though I was totally drunk. "A bit tense...but hot," I say.
"Squeeeeee—" She screams while covering her mouth and rapidly tapping her feet against the floor, making everyone inside turn to look at her. "Of course it was tense because he's been waiting to put his fucking lips on his sweet crushhh. I can't imagine what it'll be like when you guys have sex for the first time."
"Stop," I say quickly.
"Actually, I can imagine."
"Stop it!" I shout this time.
"Fine, fine... Speaking of last night, that motherfucking jerk V fell flat on his ass. I was so proud of myself," she says, chuckling happily. "I told you, didn't I? It was so fucking obvious. He fucking wants you that bad. If he could jump on you, he would've already done it," she says in a softer voice.
I stay silent.
The way he always looks at me, even when he's with Felicia. The way he used to tease me and joke around. He was pleased to get any reaction from me, and I was becoming a little sick and tired of it.
But after that day when I went to see Tytas, Vik became more—I don't know how to describe him—possessive and meaner, and his smile wasn't as joyful as it used to be.
Vik wants me. Really?
The way I see it, he feels something toward me, but I can't imagine it being lovey-dovey, puppy-kitty love. It's complex and complicated. I feel burdened and confused whenever I'm with him because of his actions.
And most importantly, he has a girlfriend.
"He wouldn't do anything," I say.
"Are you sure about that?" Irin asks. "It's Vik, after all."
"He has Felicia. He wouldn't," I say.
"Oh, I wasn't talking about Felicia." She curls her lips. "I'm talking about his buddy."
Tytas.
"The way I see it, they might be best friends, but Vik is always second best—the understudy—to Tytas. When he's alone, he's gorgeous, golden, the girls' choice. But when he's with Tytas, who is anyone going to choose?"
"People have different preferences," I speak my mind.
"Why are you defending him right now? No, I mean, you're right, but the way he sees it or feels it... it's not the same as you. Deep down, I think he wants to win something or have someone his secret rival can't have." She gives me a look. I roll my eyes slightly and look out the window. "Now that you have Tytas, that boy is heartbroken."
I almost chuckle. "And we don't know whether he'll stay heartbroken or... do something to win you over." Irin keeps predicting how the scene will play out.
"No, I don't think so. And I think you've been watching too many TV shows lately. You came up with a whole drama plot because you want it to happen that way," I tease her.
"I don't have to want it because it's true. It will happen." She looks serious, but it's kind of funny how invested she is in this. "You read books. You know the plot better than I do." Irin smirks at me. Then her expression changes slightly. "Hey, I found something..." She pauses. I look at her as she struggles to say it, glancing around at everyone in the room. "I found—" she says quietly, leaning toward me. "The gun room," she whispers. "Tons of them, like a collection. Old ones, vintage ones, new shiny ones, modern ones like the police have, and—" She stops.
I pay attention, eagerly waiting.
"Some are too difficult to describe because I've never seen those kinds of guns before," she says under her breath, in the quietest voice possible.
I'm too stunned to speak. "Is it... perhaps... his father's?"
Irin shakes her head. "I found this too."
She pulls a square piece of paper from her purse and slowly slides it across the table toward me. I pick it up and flip it over.
My eyes widen.
It's a picture of Tytas and me.
It was taken at his sixteenth birthday party. I'm surprised to see the photo because it looks like neither Tytas nor I knew we were being photographed. I look at him in the picture. He was wearing a beige-and-black outfit, looking classic even back then, but his eyes were staring directly at me.
"If it belongs to his dad... isn't it too much?" Irin asks.
"Where did you find it?"
"It was on the side table beside the couch," she replies.
I look at her.
"That room isn't just a gun collection, Zia. There's a huge couch in the middle, big enough for ten people to lie on."
I bite my lower lip and look at the photograph again.
"Perhaps it's just a guilty pleasure, a hobby. He might love collecting guns. But all I'm thinking is perhaps—just perhaps—there's a reason why Vik is so scared of him," Irin says cautiously.
I say nothing. I only listen carefully to Irin's theory.
"I'm not saying he's dangerous, but... I want you to be careful," she says sincerely. "Who would have thought that such a quiet, reserved person could have such an extraordinary side?"
Because he's quiet and reserved, he probably has a side he doesn't want to show the world—including me. I also have parts of myself that I'm not proud of, parts I wish would stay hidden. But they come out whenever strange energy starts disturbing my nerves and connects directly to that dark side.
It came out once, and it has been staying beneath my skin ever since, living rent-free inside my head and clinging to my skull.
So I can't judge him.
Is he really a bad guy or a dangerous person?
Overall, he's good to me—gentle and tender.
"Oh God." Suddenly, a high-pitched voice rises.
I quickly slip the photograph into my black pants. I look toward the owner of the voice. Felicia. Who else could it be?
I sigh, ignoring her.
"You're still alive?" Felicia asks.
"Do you care about me, Felicia? How nice of you," Irin says.
"I mean—your friend here." Felicia places her palms on our table. "You can still come out of your rat hole, Letizia. I'm impressed. You're not as sweet or nice as you think you are."
"I never thought I was," I say.
"Hmph. Keep your paws off my man, Letizia," she says aggressively.
"Your boy got fucked up and fell on his ass all by himself, and you're blaming her?" Irin asks irritably.
"I'm blaming all of you. You seduced him with your fucking looks and eyes. I don't fucking know, but I saw it. You teased him. Why? Do you like him that much? Do you want both of them?"
This girl is delusional. I raise my eyebrows at her.
"Back off, Felicia. Your boy is the one who keeps bothering Zia, not the other way around, you lunatic," Irin says.
"I'm telling you one more time to fucking back off. Keep your fucking virgin eyes and virgin ass away from him."
She leans toward me until her forehead almost hits mine.
"Or do you want to lose your virginity so badly that you'll give it to anyone, huh?"
"Hey, you bitch!" Irin stands and pushes Felicia back.
"Don't fucking touch me!" Felicia yells.
"Hey, Irin... we should go. It's getting annoying in here," I say, standing to grab Irin's hand before she slaps Felicia.
"Yeah! Run away like you always do," Felicia says.
Or perhaps I should give it a second thought. I breathe in to calm myself and am about to walk toward the door.
"Don't fucking come near him with your puss—"
"What the fuck? You're out of line! You're mad because Vik is more interested in Zia than he is in you, huh? Is that right? Why don't you keep your insecurities to yourself, work on them, and stop fucking blaming everyone else?" Irin steps between us and yells back violently.
"You're the one who blames people the fucking most, Irin. It's because of your stupid questions!"
"I don't think so..." I say, walking toward her. "First, you'd better shut up and think things through before useless words come spilling out of your mouth." She gasps. "Second, use your eyes. You have them, right? They're pretty, and I think you should use them more. Do you know how many times I've approached him first? And how many times your man, Vik, has come to me with those eyes?"
I can see frustration, hurt, and madness in her eyes, but she's weak.
"Like you said, I always run away from him, but he always follows me," I say with a steady glare, even though my heart is beating furiously.
"Ha... you..." Felicia looks stunned and begins to stammer.
"Lastly, I'm a virgin. So what? There's nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, and there's also nothing wrong with people who enjoy having sex with whoever they want."
My blue eyes pierce into hers.
She takes a step back.
"It's called respect. You should learn it sometime," I add.
Then, I walk out of the door, and Irin runs to me right away.
Fuck, I'm losing my mind. I look at my hands, and they're shaking. I stomp along the footpath as if it were soft grass in the park. But no—it's solid and hard as rock. I can't feel anything beneath my shoes because my nerves are running through everything inside me, especially my stomach. I look at my hands that shiver.
Stop.
"Hey, hey, are you all right?" Irin runs toward me and holds my waist.
"Yeah... no... I'm shaking... haha," I say, chuckling at myself at the end.
She holds me still and stops me from walking.
"You were crazy cool back there," she says. "It's okay. She fucking deserved it. Even I think she deserves a few punches," Irin adds.
"My heart is beating so fast," I say.
Then she squeezes me in a hug.
"It's your adrenaline, girl," she says proudly. "You're fucking cool as hell. Damn, I want you to make people shut up more often."
"Not a good idea. It drains my energy," I say. "And the one who should be punched is her boyfriend."
"You're right... damn, both of them should be punched, honestly," Irin says angrily.
As we start walking away, I notice a motorcycle parked beside the footpath—the same motorcycle from the garage, the same one behind the fence, and the same one in front of my house.
It's parked right in front of me among other regular bikes, as if it's just another normal thing, but the sight of it shocks me.
I immediately look around for the owner, but there's no one dressed in black. I must be losing my mind if I expect the rider to always wear black. If I heard the sound of the bike's engine right now, I would be aghast.
I might be paranoid.
The bodies. The bikes. The helmets.
It never stays in the past. An engine revs. A motorcycle passes. Someone wears a fucking black helmet. The scene rips itself open, and I'm forced to watch it all over again.
I must be hallucinating. I thought I had moved past that—at least on some level.
But I saw this bike right outside my house. The rider was watching me through a fucking helmet. He couldn't have just parked there and chilled with the flies at night.
"Are you okay?" Irin asks after noticing how flabbergasted I look. She stops walking. "What are you looking for?"
She turns and looks around the same way I do.
"N—nothing," I stutter.
It might belong to someone else.