Unbalanced Forces
Newton's first law states that things that are still want to remain still and things in motion want to remain in motion unless an unbalanced force acts upon it. Newton's third law states for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Demi has been gone for nearly two months now, just a week after teaching me all the first grade basics she could. While she tours the country, I make absolutely no progress in my life. I just lay around, sobbing over other people's misfortunes and missing her. I miss her warmth and laughter. I miss waking up with her messy black hair all over the place and tattooed arms around my waist. I miss her slight lip bite and I miss how we made the most graceful of mistakes. I miss the feeling of her lips on mine and the cloak of darkness that sheltered us from everyone else. I miss Nate and his soothing ways to match his soothing tone of voice. Nowadays everyone is loud or silent. I'm not sure which is worse.
Suddenly I hear a knock on the door and I groan. Once upon a time I'd run to the door in hopes it was Demi. Now I mill around before dragging my feet to find a new stranger standing in the same place in the same way every time. I just leave the door open so he can follow. His heavy boots make a lot of noise, but the time has increased between each step and grunts come more often. Dylan hates how he has to get on one knee to untie his shoes one at a time. Nearly every action is followed by a loud, throat burning cough. He may be rapidly dropping pounds, but he's still loud as all hell with every breath and move he takes.
"You look like shit", Dylan states from behind me as I grab a mini muffin from the pantry, tossing him a granola bar soon after. "I know I don't look too hot, but shit Natalie. Get yourself together".
I smile, but it's about as fake as his so I call it even. His shallow breath echoes in the otherwise silent house.
I never speak the first five minutes or so of him being present. I have to relearn Dylan to be able to act the same as I used to. I have to be able to trace his endlessly slimming shape with my eyes and his new personality with my mind. I need to know how to shade the texture in his skin, the bags under his eyes, and the hollowness of his cheeks. I want to be able to sketch the most current version of his scowl and secluding posture. New dawn, new day, new Dylan. He knows this, he detected it almost immediately when he came after losing ten pounds. We tried talking about it then, but not since. The two of us get very heated in arguments we feel strongly about. Therefore, we have a silent agreement to keep our abnormally accurate accusations to ourselves and let bygones be bygones. At least usually. This time it's different, his energy is more aggressive than usual. It's nipping like a morning breeze through his eyes as they investigate my averted gaze.
"Why do you look at me like that?" Dylan asks, his head tilting just slightly.
"You know why", I state, looking down at my food in disgust.
"I want you to say it", I look up to find him glaring into my eyes with a fire that rarely appears. Fire is life and life is energy, if you can't have one you can't have the other. He's been working up to this for a while.
"The same reason you think of yourself the way you do".
"How do you know what I think?"
"Because you hide things about as well as a glass box, Dylan", I growl, "I can tell you're ashamed of what you have become and you can't say it because you don't know how".
"Look me in the eyes, I dare you. Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm exactly who I used to be", Dylan yells, "find a place in your heart that is ok with lying to me. I know you can't. You're just like the mirrors. I might have to stand a little closer to see them but I can still see. I can see it, they can see it, and neither of us can hide either of those facts. I'm not me anymore."
"Just like the doctors can't tell you that you don't have HIV and that you'll eventually get AIDS, huh?"
Dylan charges me and grabs my face to force me to look at him, "I am more than a disease".
"I know, you're a lot more than that, but you're also a coward because you can't stand the fact that that is a part of you now".
I glance up into the eyes of the man before me, once so powerful and consistent, Now an erratically wild mess that can't find one part of my face to light on fire. This anger is a strong one, but it isn't at me or himself, it's everywhere. Dylan is lost, and to be honest, so am I. I can't find one version of him to remember so I make a new one and pretend that's ok, that it's normal. He can't find out thing to focus on and demolish. Our gaze does not break, but it softens as his hold on me relaxes and he collapses into me, crying and coughing into my small shoulder. I grab his thin and long frame and hold him up until he regains his strength. Pretending to be something you're not has never been his strong suite. That's why he didn't do it, and that's why I look up to him.
I don't know what it was that came over me, let alone over him, but when he looked at me with his tear swollen eyes and newly formed frown I looked back without fear or question. When Dylan's hand held my waist where it leaned on the wall, I didn't flinch. When Dylan finally pressed his lips to mine and kissed me with a longing that was previously unfamiliar, I did not pull away. I'm not proud of the fact that these actions are accurate, nor am I proud that nothing was said to resolve the situation. When Dylan's warm, soft lips released mine as slow as they came, he backed up and walked away. We would never speak of that moment, and we certainly would not take action based upon it. It was a mental conversation we had with each other that stated our first law: I would continue my life with Demi Lovato without question or interruption, and our third law: Dylan would look from afar wishing it was him until an unbalanced force was to act upon us. ----------------------------------------------so readers, who do you hate, love and feel for this story and why do you feel such?
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