Our China

STILL ALIVE

Ainsley made sure to tuck me in those nights, a honeyed voice luring precious fabrications forged by sleep. The most selfless thing I know, picking me, to elicit delicate pleasures of the mind: her and I – forever. And why?

She knew they stole the very comfortability of my own skin. And so, her compassion cried out to me with haste, stitching gashes I was oblivious to bleeding from. I watched curiously from a distance as she fussed for me, wept for me, swore for me to reap justice. An incredible thing to think you deserve some daft reward in exchange for your humiliation; what would it change? Regardless, she believed in that sort of thing. She believed in that sort of thing for me. Ainsley, The Unblemished, The Activist, The Braveheart, believed in that sort of thing for me. Me.

We were three years friends, now four as sisters, traditions of solitude and chamomile characterizing our relationship. In her living room was where our time was – is – mostly spent. We had a routine there: I would claw the arms of the sofa until my fingernails split at the tips and she would hold me and hush me and promise a cup of tea and it would have the small leaves of a marigold floating on top and I would stop and she would come back and watch me drink and it would always be enough to make her smile and it was because she loved me. Each day a polaroid, capturing cherished sips, documented what would soon be reason to return the favor.

But now she sits in the sofa that cradled me in my own despair, staring out the window I once watched, hands cupping the ends of the arms in her own way of pleading for me to bring the chamomile with the marigold’s pieces on top. And my chest aches for her; there is no worse pain than watching the love of your life suffer from being mauled by the imprisonment of your own mind.

THE MIRROR

“And you will just love the feeling, V. It’s the only way I can get away from this, like, I don’t know...,” She pauses to twirl the makeup brush in her hand, “just this pressure to be perfect all the time, you know? Oh, I guess I shouldn’t be rambling about my silly problems, what with your situation and all. But my point is that—you’ll love it. You’re allowed to feel free tonight.”

Can’t you see that I’m angry? My hands are tied all over again, Ainsley, and this time ‘round there’s no saving me. Why are we drifting, Ainsley? Ainsley, why do you insist on grabbing me by the back of the neck and pressing a knife to my spine? You’re making me walk forward with the sharp press of a blade, Ainsley! You’re sick! Ainsley? Do you hear me? It’s supposed to be me and you! You’re supposed to pick me!

She pauses, and the actress’ reflection painted in pale, cheeks dusted in a cloud of pink, lips suffocated in that deep shade of rouge I despise, performs the smile that slaughters.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

You’re so beautiful.

A sigh, and I can smell the peppermint and chamomile left over. The only thing left in the bottom of her cup is a single yellow petal, delicate and alone. “You have to talk eventually, V. Staying silent lets those thoughts win, remember? You're trapping yourself in your head. It’s too lonely in there.”

It is both heartbreaking and wonderful to witness a heart such as yours ooze such ignorant slander. Why should I have to say aloud what you know founds our love for each other? You shouldn’t need the words repeated in your ear. How dare you? How dare you rob yourself of the very reason you breathe? Of the lifeline spoon-feeding your lungs their ability?

Or has this been one-sided in its entirety?

DETACH

I would offer her a napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth, but fools only use the sleeves of their dress coats to swipe the mess off their faces. But what is she? The lies, heavy and black, dripping down her chin at an agonizing pace, remain untouched. If a mannerless fool can bother to salvage their dignity, what name should she be given?

Tramp comes to mind, everything the world promises Ainsley isn’t. But they don’t see the girl who stalks behind curtains. Oh, she twirls in those curtains—a silk dancer, of sorts. Anyway, look at her leaning against this boy, some boy she brought from out of town. He stopped in to visit family, he said. But didn’t have anyone who missed him back home, so he assumed a place of his own. A face who we’ve never seen and she’s already sunk her claws into his cheeks, swallowing his tongue desperately. Filth.

She breaks off to flash teeth that had been hidden in her acts of betrayal moments prior. And: “V, drink something! You want something?”

The cold touch of the wall drowns a bloody appetite. I shake my head.

The parasite slurs next. “Come over here! I don’t bite!”

There’s so much silence, and I love watching him squirm in it.

The doorbell barges in, though, and Ainsley stumbles up, unbalanced. “The rest are here!”

OUR CHINA

Desolating the mind conjures one connotation: in small and spaced pieces, it’s vital to growth, but embracing its completeness makes you insane. Well, I’ve never felt better after the latter. I learn more than I speak, and I become wiser each passing day. The state of internal aloneness I’ve created is ripe for showing Ainsley how to adjust to a life with the only one who matters.

Mascara had rained down my face and dried, plastering to the skin which borders the disgust of the world’s men and my mind. My. Mind. Mine. Only I live here. They trespassed every other inch of me, but at least I am alone here.

“Here, take this.” She serves me a chattering, nervous cup, beautifully decorated in intricate patterns and lines leading to a heart. Not a heart of a child’s drawing, but a representation of what circulates the red warmth inside of her. “I got it in Mauritius. They said it’s unbreakable. It’s priceless, really. I never let anyone use it. It’s so fragile—only gentle hands can hold it. And you’re the gentlest person I know, so...” She smiles.

Unbreakable. I knew then, that a thick and fibrous line had connected both of us together. I was special to her, and she to me. Only I could drink the chamomile with golden light given from a golden flower from the china, and only she could bring it to me. She understands the only right path is my exile. She understands that my exile is her exile. She knows it is just us, and that no one will force a divide. That’s what she’s saying. That’s what she means. Unbreakable.

A RETURNED FAVOR

The rest are here? The rest, Ainsley?

They truly were here. The rest of the night, I sewed my knees into my breasts and tore at my hair as ugly music ripped through the floors of the house. The bass wrapped its acid-lathered paws around my spine and rattled it until my body shook with rage. She didn’t even glance at me. She didn’t even care. Her body is rubbing and gliding against them and she doesn’t care. The drinks trickle down her throat glass after glass; I see them burn holes through her neck and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care. Then so what about her stupid chamomile or the stupid chair that I left my territorial claim on? Why do I care, Ainsley? Why should I care? That doesn’t stop her, either. She doesn’t care if I care. Do you care if I sneak into your room, Ainsley? No? Apparently, you don’t. Too busy pressing into Some Boy to follow me in? Well, I guess you don’t care if I grab the key either? No answer? All right! Okay, I get it! You need me to help you, right? Like you helped me? Ainsley, it all makes sense now! How could I ever be so furious with you? It is still just you and me, after all! Shut off from everyone else, just us? Yes? Yes! All you had to do was ask, Ainsley. Sometimes our misery is too much to not be sacrificed. So I’ll unlock your cabinet and load it...there we go. Perfect. Oh, the sounds it makes should lull me to sleep, but I know I must rock you there first. And the music grows louder and pounds in my ears and the blood sweeps through me in glee and the joy I feel is just perfect. One bullet takes Some Boy, and the rest take the others.

You’re screaming? But it’s okay, Ainsley. I love you. And it’s over now, so you don’t need to worry. Let’s get you in the chair...up and...there we go! Good! Good job, Ainsley! I’m so proud of you for taking these steps to get better! Very important!

Now, just sit tight. I’ll bring you a cup of chamomile.

I’ll even add our precious little marigold petals, the ones that burn orange and yellow.