the list

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

I groan, tensing up as Alina squeezes me to the point where I wheeze every remaining breath from my lungs. "God, for someone who says they want nothing but the best for me, you hug me like you want me dead." I pant, as she flashes me her usual grin. The devil has been reincarnated into a teenage girl with sun kissed freckles and a smile that emits Sunday morning sunshine. "Who let you in, anyway?" I sigh, as she leaps onto the bed next to me. "Your brother." I roll my eyes, leaning back into my pillows. "Of course."

Alina throws her curls over her shoulder, scooching up next me. Her overwhelming perfume of peaches and vanilla suffocates my sense of smell. But in a good way, I suppose, like if an assassin were to smother you with a pillow just washed with Downy. It wouldn't be the worst way to go.

"So, plans?" Her eyelashes flutter up at me, the same doe-eyed look that gets her out of trouble when she's late to math. "No." I scoff back, flicking her forehead. She yelps, whining as her fingers sorely rub the spot. "You promised, Lex!" Her complaining prompts yet another sigh from me, a sound that has come out of me more than breaths when I'm around her. The sigh is partly because deep down I know she's right. I did promise. But it doesn't change the fact that if we were to play the game "take a shot everytime Lexi groans at Alina's bullshit", I would be guilty of causing someone alcohol poisoning.

"Come on. I've been waiting, I've been doing chores, I mean, I even organized your bathroom. Like, this has to be violating child labor laws or something." Alina scoffs, as I let out a snort at her dramatic antics. "If you used such vibrant language in Hoffman's class you would have a passing grade, you know." I shake my head, as she blows a raspberry, waving me off as if my very logical suggestion were an annoying gnat. I notice her nails, and how the colours she chose don't have a pattern. I take note of it to add to the list later. "Ew, stop, don't mention him to me on our day off. Besides, this is why you're the smart one. Which is why," she inhales, her eyes flickering to me with that mischievous, stubborn gaze that I have had the unfortunate experience of coming across many times before. Not because it's displeasing or ugly to look at it, but because I know too well what comes as a result of it. "You have to let me read it. You promised."

Yet another exasperated breath of air escapes me, as I open my mouth to say something, anything, to distract her. But when our eyes meet, her unwavering stare lets me know very quickly that she means it. She's being serious, which is scary, because Alina is rarely ever serious. I look down, noticing that my fingers have already begun to pick at each other. Her hands come into view, untangling them. I look back up at her, and her gaze has softened.

I think, or well, I know that the reason Alina is so well liked because of how expressive she is. I admit that this is what makes us mesh so well together. I struggle with painting the right emotions in my expressions, because sometimes it feels like a stranger's face is sewed onto mine. "Tight and rigid", is what I've been described as, and I honestly couldn't put how I felt into words any better. Alina, on the other hand, handles it like how butter slides across a sizzling pan. She somehow knows exactly what to say and how to say it to get you to feel precisely how she wants you to.

Her eyes peer at me as if I handcrafted the stars and placed them into the night sky, yet at the same time, they make me feel as if I am concealing the greatest masterpiece. Withholding some vital truth from her. I sigh, a noise I'm sick of hearing. This time, it's different, though. It's the final sigh she always gets out of me, the sigh of giving in.

"...Fine."

the list

- the difference in handwriting that you notice in the middle of a sentence, where you can just tell the person was laughing as they were writing. there’s a slight change, barely noticeable. but if you squint your eyes just enough, to the point where your crows' feet wrinkle and match the creases in the paper, you can notice the tiny tremors of the pen. you can hear the laughter rumbling deep within their chest, each stroke of the pencil marking each second of the memory. 

- the annoyed groan people let out when they're asked of a favour after getting comfortable. the sound drags alongside their feet across the floor as they reluctantly hand you the remote.

- the big breaths small kids take in between each cry. their gasps try to take in as much as possible, in hopes of making more space for their emotions they can’t handle dealing with just yet. when you’re small, you can’t swim. when you drown, you desperately reach for air. it makes me wonder that as we get heavier and bigger, whether we learn to swim or sink to the bottom quietly. but now and again, when it gets too much, i see my friend bobbing up to the surface again. she’s ten again, and we’re back to when she scraped her knee on the gravel of the driveway.

- the small nervous smile that unfolds on someone's face as the whole class erupts in laughter at their joke. when the teacher brings the kids back on track, you can see how they slightly sink into their seat with content. they'll think about that moment for a while, but more specifically the relief to how embarrassed they were before taking the risk of saying it out loud.

- the squeals my friends let out when noah and allie kiss in the notebook. "we're so lonely and pathetic, i swear." one of them laughs. i grin at her. maybe i'm a narcissist who enjoys being the only one to know the truth, because she has never been more wrong.

- the light that sets off in my dad's eyes when i ask him about one of his life stories. for a moment, i blink, not recognizing who's sitting in front of me. it's the person who was stated to have disappeared after i came into existence, but on the special days, i get to meet him.

- the overwhelming sense of emotion that presses against your chest when you listen to a song that perfectly resonates.

- the bustle of a coffee shop as they yell out orders. "ma'am, did you order a vanilla frappucino? no? then this isn't yours."

- the furrow in between brows that cause crinkles. most of the time it happens when someone’s annoyed, angry, or confused. the involuntary twitch of your muscles because the fact that you care enough to get upset is ingrained into your very being. each crease in her skin is each time my sister has forgiven me.

- the random creaks that groan in my house. i get scared, for a moment, my heart leaps. there was a time when no one was there to hear them.

- the tear stains on the pages of my book “gangsta granny” by david walliams

- the birthday cake stain on my dad’s sweatshirt

- my mom’s untouched eyeshadow palette

- the constant tapping of nervous feet in a classroom where there’s a test being taken

- all the folded origami gum wrappers in my pencil case

- the gap between their two front teeth that's filled by the bewitching words from their lips

- the wobble in a newborn calf’s legs

- the nervous stutter you get in your chest when your phone dings

- the smell of fresh laundry

- the words “i disagree”

- the small squeeze you give each other when you hold hands

- Alina

There's a moment of a silence, and the only thing that can be heard in the room is the rustling of the paper as Alina folds it back into the envelope. That, and the sound of my heart ramming in my ears. My eyes, which usually travel everywhere except on people, seem to be glued on her. On every micro expression she might reveal, even for a millisecond. My fingers meet again, my nail-picking a sensation that has grown numb to me by now. It's a habit, rather, a relationship I know and curate often.

"Well?" I finally whisper, my voice cracking. I cringe at the sound, but more at the fact that I am terrible at hiding how terrified I am. A million thoughts are racing through my head. I don't say anything else.

Eventually, the silence gets too overbearing and I can't take it anymore. "I never show my work to anyone for this reason, it was really just a joke. It wasn't serious-" I find myself rambling, attempting to rip the envelope from her hands. But she pulls the paper away before my hands can find safety in it, knowing that my words are back in my grasp, back to being my secret and behind my lips with dried specks of blood from biting them too much. I look up at her, and my heart halts.

Alina who knows exactly how to smooth talk, how to please, how to over-exaggerate her excitement to make you feel special, is not who I see as my eyes are swiftly grazing over her features. Her expression is serene, like a Colorado lake you would find some random Friday evening at sunset. It's a look of hers that I have never come across before. She blinks, rapidly, as her mouth is agape. Speechless is one of the last things you would ever see her be. "I..."

My breath hitches, as I feel every fibre of my being on edge for her next words.

"I liked it."

She smiles. It's blank, and simple, and it isn't her usual grin.

It would also be the most genuine I would ever catch sight of in my lifetime.

I smile back.

It doesn't feel rigid.