this weight on our shoulders (koi + ev) Jun 5, 2019 13:59:06 GMT -5
Post by phresh on Jun 5, 2019 13:59:06 GMT -5
Koi dreamed of an enormous ship in pieces underwater. He stood watching while a group of workers were stitching the sides together with thread. They matched up the wood like bits of a puzzle and pushed the needle through the edges piece by piece. The needle was as long as an arm.
He asked them, out of curiosity, “What are you doing stitching up the sides like that? Why not use nails?”
And their leader replied, “If we pull the seams tight enough, this thing will fly like a balloon.”
Koi shook his head, confused. “But you’re wrong. That boat’s too heavy to fly. And anyways it’s missing pieces.”
But the men kept working and he didn’t push it.
He awoke to the sound of quiet, steady breathing and rolled over to see Evelyn slumped against his closet, her head cocked sideways into her shoulder, her mouth parted slightly. Frowning, he rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, checked the watch on his bedside. Six in the morning. His folks would have already left for work.
It had been days since they’d met with Ophelia at the ship and still it burned to remember how helpless he’d felt about the whole thing—Ophelia’s obstinance, Evelyn’s drunkenness, his inability to solve everything. For days he had rehearsed in his head what he’d say to her, but when they were face to face his lines had crumbled. He was afraid of her. He was afraid of the way she could push Evelyn around; he hated how she toyed with both their lives like they belonged to her, like stories she could rewrite the way she wanted.
He could join their ship, or she could leave and never come back. How easily Evelyn’s tyrant of a sister had narrowed their futures into two hallways, both equally dreary. Maybe before, he could have pictured himself on that boat. It used to be a symbol, drifting out there in the dock: adventure, freedom, romance. Now, though, he pictured Ophelia on it and it just looked like hell.
Though there was a slice of heaven anywhere Evelyn was. Koi felt it still, despite his unease that she couldn’t stay sober when he’d needed her most. It had hurt him when she showed up like that, and even now he felt cautious when he looked at her, like he was frozen in place. He spoke to her softly, arms crossed over his bare chest.
“You didn’t have to sleep there. I could have moved over.”