Tits and Cartilage Nuggets

“I quit.”

Her expression didn’t change when I said that. It hadn’t changed since we sat down at the cafe.

Once, I heard someone from a video describe how they ended a toxic relationship abruptly. As one might kill a bug, they said. It’s disgusting, so you don’t want to look at it, but you have to make sure it’s dead.

When anyone finds a bug in our apartment, I’m the one to go after it with a plastic container and something flat to put underneath. Though, I’m not sure if I do it because I pity the creepy crawler or just hate the thought of cleaning up its gooey remains.

But right now, I was trying to squish one nasty bug.

“I said I’m out.”

“I heard you,” she said. Impatience. Tired of me. Tired of this. It implied that whether I wanted to end it or not made no difference to her. But I know it did. This was going to hurt her.

I breathed in deeply and she did as well. 

She said, “Well, if that’s all, I’m gonna go. I have something at two.” That was only half an hour after we had agreed to meet up. Next, next, always next after she was done with somebody.

Exasperated, I leaned back and watched a couple picking up their drinks at the counter. One person held their bags while the other grabbed the drinks. I didn’t know if they were a couple, but they looked coupley. Earlier, I had watched them order.

“One Americano,” the one ordering had looked at the other, “and a latte?” 

A nod.

“And a croissant?”

Another nod, a card shared between them, and paid. Compatible. The kind of couple that would always support each other. I knew the feeling.

The jangle of keys on her belt loop announced to me that she was getting up to leave. So I returned my gaze reluctantly. As she stood up, she patted her pockets out of habit, though she was a light traveler. She glanced in my direction one more time and I thought she was going to say something. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and tucked her lips because she was relieved to end this uncomfortable discussion. She turned away and left. The sound of metal keys smacking each other aggressively echoed after each confident step. My eyes bitterly followed, up the back of her neck, to the back of her ears. 

-

The first thing I had noticed was the back of her ears. I didn’t know her name until later. Who would’ve thought that the cartilage nuggets we have on the side of our heads could be attractive. But it was so, and why not? Her ears looked soft and clean, unmarked by any blemishes. Surprisingly, that was the most appealing thing about them. By the time I became a hatchling adult in college, I reconciled myself to the permanence of discoloration and scars on my body as a sign of maturation, but remained fascinated by perfect skin. Some people manage to live life while escaping its physical record-keeping, etchings in the flesh. It’s a mind-blowing mystery. My theory is that it’s a person’s vitality, it makes their skin impenetrable like armor.

So, there were her ears, with a neat row of silver earrings on each one. They were beautiful. I had the opportunity to examine them often because I sat behind her in class. They don’t have assigned seating in college, but perhaps there’s an unspoken rule or a need for routine – everyone always sits in the same spot. So I sat behind her, where I could admire her ears from a safe distance.

I had an easy line of sight as well, because her hairstyle was masculine. Short on top and tapered in the back. The light from the window shone between the strands of her light brown hair like they were the fingers of an outstretched hand, ready to grab something. It made me think about my own hair, and how I’ve always had the same dark, heavy curtain to hide my face. After the ears, it was that day when she wore a sleeveless shirt. And this girl never wore a bra. Her everyday appearance was one where the eyes of her breasts pressed up against the single piece of fabric like excited children to a car window on their way to Disneyland. They wanted to see the world. I couldn’t do that. Go outside without a bra, I mean. 

That day, she was wearing the sleeveless shirt and sitting at a diagonal – still in front of me of course, because that’s where she belonged – so the view that I had through the window of her sleeve was the closest thing to Disneyland for me. The pointy tip of the castle extended past the center of the sparkle arch, but turned sideways. an exposed side boob in the middle of class. I felt that I should feel guilty, ogling at it from behind the curtain of my hair. I probably should have told her, right? But that was not the awkward first conversation I felt like having. Besides, I was the only witness to this indecency and the curve of her breast smiled coyly at me. It told me that we were equally exposed and secrets were compromised, as if we were in a spy movie. I wondered what my secret was.

Out of nowhere, it had whispered a suggestion to me,

You don’t like men.

I was caught off guard but didn’t deny it right away.

Quit playing dumb, you know what I mean.

I quitted something then, in a way.

The next semester came around quickly, we were in the same class again, and I remembered that I existed because she had noticed me. She said she liked my fresh cut. We started talking more, which made me nervous, but also giddy. Mostly nervous though, like I wanted to wiggle out of my imperfect skin and hide somewhere because I couldn’t stand existing in it when I was next to her. She told me that she was the leader of the school dance team – very appropriate – and that she needed more members to qualify for competitions. And that’s how I impulsively joined the team despite having no dancing experience. It was absolutely like going outside without a bra. Uncharacteristic for me, but liberating. Tits out! Ironically, this was the dance team slogan.

It was in the dance team that I began to see a different side to her and to myself. She was fiercely competitive, which was fascinating to observe but a little too intense when you got close, like the sun. Her passion for dancing was unmatched and therefore, according to her, no one else took it seriously enough. We burned our way through competitions with that fiery spirit of hers, but she also burned some bridges along the way as a result.

In the team, I met another girl, Elaine. If our team leader was the sun, she was like the moon. Elaine was mellow, compassionate, and hilarious, – multi-faceted. I naturally gravitated towards her personality before I even thought about how she looked. Turns out, we were very compatible too. She didn’t just notice me but understood me, and I felt for the first time that if it was with her, maybe I could learn to love myself. Maybe I have beautiful ears too, who knows? I’ve never seen the back of my ears. 

Once, she admitted to me that she used to have a crush on our team leader, and I said I did too. It was past tense at that point. I realized then that the admiration I held for her and what I wanted in a partner were very different things. Her radiance, confidence, and vitality was what I wanted to see in myself. 

Elaine and I started dating. Eventually, we got an apartment together. She wanted to be the next dance team leader and she had a fair shot. Our current one was graduating and after her, Elaine had the most experience and enthusiasm. Anyone who wanted to be team leader next year just had to be a currently participating member at the end of the season to apply.

-

I left the cafe and went back to my apartment. My roommate was home.

Elaine looked up from the couch, where she was watching TV. Her foot was resting on a pack of ice on the coffee table.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize you had left.”

“I met with her,” I told her right away.

“Oh?”

“I told her that I quit the team.”

“Wow, okay. That’s fine. I mean, I’m not too surprised. I knew you were upset. But now the team won’t have enough people to qualify for the last competition of the season.”

“Then she shouldn’t have spread those lies about you and kicked you off the team. It’s just an ankle sprain but she had everyone believing it was broken and you wouldn't make it to practices. And everyone should know that you wouldn’t do or say the stuff she said you did. She’s so competitive that she couldn't stand anyone else taking her place. She ruined your chances. So, I told her that I won’t stand by and watch her do that to you. That I quit.” I quit adoring her. I quit trying to be like her. Instead, I’m going to walk out from behind the curtain and stand in the spotlight myself. Tits out.

-

If anyone cares to know…the following year, Elaine became the next dance team leader anyway because it was a stupid rule and we could guess who made it.