Nila's "If Only"

You know, I never thought my life would lead to where I am right now. I never listened to what they thought would happen. All because I believed they were just talking out of the holes in their faces. Yet here I am, locked in a basement with the senior bully of Uteka High School, Zane Woodbridge. He thinks he's a celebrity and the best of the best, but really, he's the average stick in the mud. At the end of the day, what do things like bullies in high school have to do with when we graduate?

 "After high school, bullies and friendships cease to exist when you are finding your way out in the world." My mom told me that in seventh grade. I had come home crying because Zane thought it was funny and teased me about how I felt vulnerable around him. I only told him how I felt because he acted bipolar around me.

My best friend, Eliza Cane, told me something I would always wonder about. "He has to like you, Nila. Like, come on. You're the only one he ever acts somewhat nice towards." Eliza with her big smile and perfectly blue eyes made me a little curious, but it felt like more and still does. Like I'm missing something. I feel like I know him, but I can't put my finger on what I'm feeling exactly.

Of all things though, why did it have to be me? Stuck in this basement with Zane, of all people. But another question circles my mind. Why was he the last person in the supermarket?

The supermarket was abandoned like everything else is. After the disasters started to hit, everyone got what they could for supplies and took shelter. I was at UHS when it happened. I was going to me and Eliza's meeting spot for lunch with Zane and his buddies tailing me, as usual, when everything started shaking. Everyone was screaming. I couldn't find Eliza and Zane was right behind me. I don't know what came over me, but I bolted right out the front gate. I ran for my apartment crying the whole way.

Sadly for me, my mother passed in seventh grade from a seizure and my father is on the other side of the world with his new wife. They want to "live it up" before they die. So I'm on my own and my apartment building collapsed when I went for supplies and that's when Zane appeared.

I was hiding in the market since my building had collapsed and I was hungry. I was grabbing a salad when the ground started shaking. Zane walked around the corner with an unreadable expression, but then he saw me and a new emotion flickered across his face. It looked like anger or fear, but before I could decipher it he lifted me and ran. 

He ran in an almost zig-zag pattern, probably to avoid debris or items left behind in the rush to take shelter. He turned down a street and then another. He eventually stopped in front of a door that was like a bunker door but was really to a basement of a house. He leaned me against a wall and went back to bolt the door. I slid down the wall till my butt hit the floor. It was nice in cool in the basement compared to the hot, humid air outside.

Zane reappeared in front of me, that's when I looked at him. He had a sculpted and defined face. His curly, dirty blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his pale blue eyes had bags under them. He sat down next to me and we didn't say a word. I felt relaxed for one minute and one minute was all it took for me to pass out from exhaustion.

 Something seems different, I’m comfortable, but how? Do I even want to open my eyes? I do it anyways. The basement room is more visible now than it was earlier, a few fluorescent lights help to see my surroundings. It appears that when I knocked out, that Zane went through the supplies. I don’t see him though. Underneath me is an air mattress with a covering and draped over me is a soft, blue blanket. 

 That’s when I see him, to my right in the corner,  just out of my direct sight. He’s leaned against the wall almost appearing as a watchdog. I feel bad because it’s cold in the basement and all he has on are sweats and a sleeveless shirt. I grab the blue blanket and walk over to where he’s sleeping. I tuck the blanket around him.

That’s when I see it. Around his wrist is a bracelet. The band is a braided, black cord with a metal plate in the center that’s engraved with the words “If Only,” on it. It’s identical to my bracelet that’s in my pocket. I stopped wearing it because it made my pale skin look even paler.

Eliza always tries to say otherwise. She says that my light brown hair, which I added lilac highlights to, and my hunter green eyes make it all blend together, but I disagree. She says she loves my curls, but so did my mom. I straighten my hair to fit in, so I seem prim and proper.

Back to the present Nila. That’s not all I see though, his arm is covered in cuts and bruises. I walk over to the first shelving unit and look for a towel, bottle of water, and a first aid kit. I find them all on the fourth shelf of the first unit. I make my way back to where Zane’s sleeping and take a seat next to him. I dab some water on the towel and lift his arm gingerly. I start by cleaning off the dirt that covers his arm. I sift through the first aid kit for alcohol wipes, I find them and rip open the pack. 

Just as I dab on a cut with the alcohol wipe, Zane’s eyes bolt open and jerks his arm away as he says, “Damn that hurts!”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He looks at me with a softened expression, “What are you doing Nila? You should be resting. You passed out cold for 13 hours.”

“I’m fine,” I reply, “I just haven’t slept much lately between exams, work, and the disasters. But don’t worry about me. Now let me see your arm, I was just trying to clean those cuts so they don’t become infected.”

He’s still looking at me with that softened expression and he reaches out to let me finish cleaning his wounds. He cringes each time the alcohol touches a cut. Once I finish cleaning, I wrap his wounds with gauze.

“Thank you,” I say.

“For what?”

“For getting me out of the supermarket before it collapsed.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt. I couldn’t just stand by and let something happen to you.”

“Why?” I don’t understand why I’m so important to him. Yet again that guarded, unreadable expression appears on his face.

His facial expression then changes, and his voice along with it sounds sad as he says, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Truth is, when my mom died, I shut everyone out. I locked up my memories and emotions in a box and threw away the key. I mostly focused on school and work, that’s it. It’s too painful for me to revisit my childhood. I miss her too much. I’m almost on the verge of tears when Zane starts to reach out to me like he knows what I’m thinking, but how could he. I move just out of reach and change the subject, “Is there a bucket and change of clothes by any chance?”

He gives me a blank look and shrugs, “I don’t see why not.” He gets up walks over to the second shelving unit, reaches underneath, and pulls out an orange bucket with a bin labeled, “Women’s Clothes.” He brings them over to me and takes a seat. I sift through the bin’s contents. I find a black tank top and a pair of black, polyester shorts.

I close the bin, holding what I chose to wear. We stare at each other for a moment as I clutch my shirt, gesturing that I’m going to change. We just stay there staring at each other. So I say, “Do you mind?”

He lowers his head and blushes, “Sorry,” then turns around with his head inbetween his knees. I take a deep breath, then remove my dirty clothes, and put on the ones I took from the bin. I tap Zane on the shoulder so he knows that I’m done changing. 

I grab the bottle of water, the towel, and a hairbrush I found in a supply bag then take a seat where the bucket is. I pour the water in the bucket, dip my hair in, and massage my hair with my hands so it gets wet. I use the towel to dry my hair so it’s only damp, then I brush it out.

 I sit there for a few minutes as my hair dries playing with some of the curls. Zane comes over and sits next to me so I look up. He reaches out and grabs plays with a strand as it wraps around his finger. “So it’s still curly after all.”

“How did you know my hair was curly?” He stays there looking deeply into my eyes with this intense expression.

He sighs, “I’ll tell you. The answers and why you don’t remember. But only if you want to know.”

I ponder for a moment then say, “I want to know, but I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what exactly? Afraid of my affection for you? Or afraid of the pain you will remember?” He holds my hand and I want to hold his. 

This feeling I can’t name it. So I choose to fight the fear that plagues me, “I want to remember, but how do I know you’re not just trying to hurt me more than I am already?”

“When I say ‘affection for you’, do you even understand what I mean?” He pulls me closer so that I am partially leaning on him. I just stare up at him and he says, “It’s not that I only care about you, but I’m in love with you Nila.”

With him saying those words I’m back at being eight years old. My friend left that day. When we talked we wouldn’t use the letter “n” because I didn’t like the word “no”. I remember saying to him, “Do’t leave Za’e!”

“I’ll come back ‘ila. I promise. I’ll be back because I love you. Just do’t forget me alright?”

Just like that, I’m back in Zane’s arms crying. This feeling I have when I’m around him, I’ve known it all along I was just afraid to use those words. 

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

He holds me wiping my tears with his hands. “It’s okay Nila, the pain you felt when I left and then your mom passing away. At the time you lost two people you loved, and you did the only thing you knew how to do, which was pushing it away and distracting yourself.”

That’s when I don’t know what to say so my brain pushes out the easiest answer, “I still love you, Zane.”

“You still love me?” He smiles at me. 

I reach into the pocket of my jeans on the floor and pull out my bracelet. I put it on and present my wrist next to his. I recite what we had said when we got the bracelets, “If Only…we didn’t have to say goodbye.”

“That was our promise.”

“I think we need a new ‘If Only…’.”

So we came up with a new “If Only…”.

“If Only… we didn’t have to be afraid of how much time we had left.”