The nausea grew in my stomach as Art led me to the sleeping room. He carried me as if I was a wounded man. I might as well get used to being carried in that fashion, for I knew I was most likely going to get injured at one point or another. He gently lifted me off of his shoulders and set me carefully on the bed. I sat up straight quickly, holding my stomach in one hand and covering my mouth with the other. I knew it was coming. The nausea overtook my body. It became a hard task to swallow, and my eyes filled up with involuntary tears. Art, who was still standing in front of me, began to panic. He could tell that I was in distress, but he wasn’t sure what to do. I tried to tell him to pass me the small trash can that was placed near the front door, but instead of words, all that came out was muffled mumbling that came out through my hand. He now looked even more confused. I didn’t know how to tell him to pass it to me, so I just started mumbling louder. He looked even more panicked. I finally worked up the muscle to point my shaky finger to the trash can. Realization overtook his features, and he quickly picked it up and handed it to me. I nodded in approval, for I was sure of being too weak for words. I dropped my head inside the can and squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting my fate. After five or six seconds, I threw up, eyes still tightly closed. Art sat beside me and stroked my back to reassure me. Luckily, we were the only ones in that room, or else my dignity would be in serious trouble. I stopped throwing up and lifted my head up to inhale some non-trash can air. The nausea then hit me again, quick, and sudden, so I dipped my head back into the trash can and started the second round. It went on for quite a bit, stopping from time to time, right before continuing. I deemed myself finished at last. I breathed in and out a bunch of times as Art continued to stroke my back.
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- Are you okay? He whispered softly.
I just nodded, words incapable of reaching my brain. I was deep in a non-existent thought. My brain was empty, yet somehow I was lost in it. The sounds around me were delayed, so I’d only process them minutes after they were said. Something weird was happening. I’ve been sick before, but nothing like this. I finally realized that Art had said something to me, and I turned my head toward him.
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- I…I think so.
He furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief, seeing as I still looked awful.
- Are you sure? He asked.
- Y…Yeah…
I was having difficulty putting words together. I was stuttering and stumbling over sentences that seemed so simple, a few days ago. He moved his hand up to my shoulder.
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- Hey. He said, speaking delicately.
I nodded, not trusting myself enough to talk.
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- Breathe with me, okay?
I just nodded again.
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- One, two, three…
He started breathing in and out in a heavy fashion. I followed this method, trusting that it would calm me down. I thought for a long time as I inhaled every breath, air painfully filling my tired lungs, chest rising up and down with every breath, causing my nausea to get more and less prominent at the same time. I could not tell whether this was helping or making it worse. My eyes grew tired and slowly, my brain was roped back toward earth territory. The swaying of the boat became less violent and the sounds of everything around me were heard again. I closed my eyes for just a second and opened them back up again. I looked at Art, who had been staring at my breathing the entire time. He smiled a small bit and placed his hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth.
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- Are you feeling better? He asked.
His eyes softened, and I almost melted at the sight. My heart was racing, and my nausea peeked back in, but not for the same reason it did five minutes ago… Art Johnson. I have said this so many times before, that you are probably very sick and tired of this monologue, but he’s perfect. No one has ever made me feel this way, and it’s not fair that he’s such a confusing man. It’s not fair that I’m a confusing man. I stared until I realized he was awaiting an answer.
- Yeah…I think so…
- Ok, well, I’m going to go get some air, but if you need me, just go tell someone to get me, okay?
I nodded as he got up. But something in me wanted to stop him from leaving. I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted him to… I wasn’t sure what I wanted, actually. Or maybe I did. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself that I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to feel this way, so I tried to convince myself that I didn’t. Well, now. Just have to admit it to myself. I inhaled a deep breath. I want him to be with me. I think…I think I take more of a liking to men than I do women. I think I’m in love. With a man. I finally exhaled. You can never really tell how fast your thoughts are going. They pass by quite quickly. The proof of this is that Art was still walking toward the door. My arms and hands, that were placed solidly at my sides, were shaking. I felt like I was going to say something that I’d regret the next day. I knew I was. But when else would I have the opportunity to speak with him alone on a crowded ship? I inhaled to give myself the smallest bit of confidence, that I sadly knew was going to sprint away if I didn’t say something fast.
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- December 1st.
He stopped dead and turned his head slightly toward me so I couldn’t see his eyes. His body remained facing the door. I knew he was listening and that I had his attention.
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- O-On December 1st, you told me that “a good boy doesn’t always have to be a pretty face who shuts his mouth off to the side”. Those words were eye-opening. For many different reasons, actually… Do you remember that night, Art?
Words were just spilling out. I wanted to take some back, but it was too late. He was listening, I was talking without thinking first and I was definitely nervous. I wanted to stop talking and just end this conversation, but I was already knee-deep, so I just continued, much to my own dismay.
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- I have no idea what you’re talking about. He said coldly, taking a step forward.
- H-Hold on a second. Before you leave, do you really not remember that night? At the bar… That was one of the most important nights of my life… That was the night I fell in love with you.
The hand he had delicately placed against the doorframe clenched up into a fist. Was he upset? Was he happy? Confused? I wanted to take all of this back, but I knew I couldn’t. He turned around to face me, eyes wide.
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- You really mean that? He asked.
- Yes. Why did you pretend that night never happened? I asked eagerly due to the fact that I had been waiting to ask that question since we re-met.
- I’m sorry… I didn’t know you actually felt that way about me… Usually, men are embarrassed of that sort of thing, so I didn’t want to embarrass you or make you feel awkward or anything like that-
- What’s embarrassing about loving you?
He tensed up and his face became red. Only then did I realize what I had said. My words echoed in my mind causing the stinging feeling of regret to boil in my stomach, like a pit of darkness. I could almost feel the color slip away from my face going God only knows where. His mouth remained slightly agape as we just stared at each other, wide-eyed and silent. God, why must I be this way? After a few seconds of feeling like the world was collapsing on top of us, I finally began to stutter out a few words.
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- Uhh…I, uh, I don’t know where that came from…
- You…You love me? He asked.
I scratched the back of my neck.
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- Um…yeah.
He smiled ear-to-ear, full of life. His eyes regained their original lively blue colour. I took this as a good sign. Maybe he actually loved me too. Maybe this wasn’t just a one-way street. I equally smiled but only a little, since I still wasn’t 100 percent sure of his reaction. For all I knew, this could be a mocking smile, teasing at me for being so sentimental.
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- So do I… He finally said.
I felt my cheeks adopt a violent shade of red. He actually loves me back. The question that I’d been pondering for days – weeks, even, was now answered. A feeling overcame my stomach. The feeling of freedom. I didn’t know I was even trapped until now… It’s like your heart was in a wooden crate that was closed off from anything and everything, and one day, it just opened. It feels free… like something has finally been done. You can finally breathe again without the painful feeling of regret jabbing at your stomach. More than that, I felt happy. For the first time in God knows how long, I felt happy. Relieved. A wholesome feeling that didn’t involve guilt, regret, sadness, anger, or any negative feeling like that. I felt truly and utterly happy. I knew it wasn’t going to last very long, but at least I had it in the moment and in the know.
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- Oh… Really? I said in slight disbelief.
- Yes… You sound surprised. He laughed a bit.
- I know, it’s just that, good things don’t really come to me. I said, followed by an awkward laugh.
- Well, you’re in luck because I’m not much of a good thing.
I just looked at him with a loving smile for a certain amount of time that seemed like forever.
- Neither am I.
He walked over to me and sat to my side. Our shoulders were touching, and we just stayed in a comfortable silence, staring at each other. It was a wonderful moment, despite the lack of words. We just looked at each other, in this moment that I had to convince myself was real. Maybe it was just a dream, though. I didn’t care. It felt real therefore, maybe I didn’t have to worry about a dream. I lifted my pinky and placed it delicately onto his. He smiled slightly wider. I rubbed my pinky back and forth against his knuckles. I was on cloud nine. I knew my body was on earth, but I felt like I was floating somewhere in between reality and fantasy. It felt amazing. Actually, I wasn’t sure when I last felt this amazing. As I stared into his beautiful blue eyes, I repressed a blissful sigh. I couldn’t stop myself from letting my eyes flutter down to his mouth, but I slipped up and looked back into his eyes. His cheeks were red at the action, but he kept calm. He started leaning in, and who was I to stop him? I did the same and we finally came in contact. It felt just as electric as the first time. I placed a hand on each side of his face, and he grabbed on to my forearms. We broke the kiss to breathe, and we backed away, basking in each other’s eyes. I smiled and he laughed a little.
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- Maybe we shouldn’t do that in public… He said.
- Yeah, maybe. I chuckled.
I looked down at my legs, smiling to myself.
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- What are you smiling at, Baxter?
I looked up at him.
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- You.
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He laughed and scratched the back of his neck, cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink. I moved my hand, so a couple of fingers were touching his. He looked down at our hands, then back up at me and smiled. Everything was perfect. I was happy in a place where I never thought that I could even think of happiness. Everything just felt like it fell into place. I was in love, I was happy, and I was satisfied, despite the depressing situation. You know, maybe this war won’t be so bad…
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