A Song for Julia

wrists in the bathtub. And this wasn’t some cry for help. I cut deep, and hard—I was going quick. I could feel myself dying, slipping away.” She sobbed. “And then I realized I could hear him laughing. There was Harry, that bastard, laughing at me. Because I’d let him control my life, even years after he was gone. And I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t let him control my life any more. I couldn’t let him be the reason I died. I think it was almost too late, but … I wrapped a towel around my wrist, squeezing as hard as I could. And I let the water drain. I was so faint—I thought I was going to die anyway. But I … I washed the bathtub down, so you couldn’t see the blood. And I went to bed. When I woke up the next morning, my sheet had blood on it—a lot of blood. But … it hadn’t been enough to kill me. So I got up and threw away the sheet and left, like I was going to school, but instead I went and sat at a coffee shop downtown all day, writing. And I promised myself that I would never again be that weak. I could make it through five more months of school, and then I’d leave home and never go back. I’d never trust again. I’d never … weaken myself again.”
    She fell silent. I could still see the shadow of the snowflakes, running across the room. I took a deep breath, and she did too. She looked … emptied. Her eyes were only half open, her pupils dilated, focused nowhere. And so I whispered my next words. “So … why are you talking now?”
    Her face seemed to break apart, her eyes suddenly watering heavily, and she sobbed, “Because I’m tired of being so alone!”
    She put her hands to her face and began to shake in great, horrible sobs, and I skipped right past her warnings not to touch her. I pulled her to me and held her tightly, and she broke down completely, crying against my shoulder, her fists dug into my back. At that moment, I wanted nothing more in the world than just to find a way to give her one minute, one hour, one day of happiness. We stayed that way until she cried herself to sleep.

    Just for now (Julia)
    When I woke up in the morning, the sun shone through the window, reflected off the snow in the Quad and glared off the walls with white light. I quickly became aware of three things. First, Crank was spooned behind me, his lips just brushing the back of my neck. That felt … really nice. Second, his right arm was curled around my side, and his hand was cupped around one of my breasts. Not exactly what I had intended to wake up to. Finally, he had an erection. There was no question that was what was pressing up against my backside.
    He was dead asleep, and the last thing I wanted to do with him in this condition was wake him up. Which presented me with a problem. How was I going to pry his hand loose from my boob, and get out from under his arm, without waking him up? Because if he woke up, he was going to want to do something about that other problem. And honestly, feeling his breath, and the slight touch of stubble against the back of my neck, not to mention his hand…it made me want to do something about it, too.
    I felt … different this morning. Drained emotionally. Yesterday … from the confrontation between Sean and his dad, the incredibly sad scene of Jack and Margot, not to mention Crank … and then me suddenly spilling my guts … all of it was just too much. I felt like someone had taken a wire brush to my skin. But I felt something else, and it was strange, and confusing.
    I woke up happy.
    Part of me wondered if instead of trying to escape from Crank’s arm, I should cuddle in, wake him up, wake that up, and do something about it.
    Part of me was still terrified. He’d held me tight, while I cried myself senseless last night. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Oh, right. Because it had never happened. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt safe and comfortable.
    I closed my eyes and just lay there. I was warm, and for right now, I just hoped he didn’t wake up. It was easier to not have to decide anything right now, to not feel any pressure of any kind. Maybe it was better just to take things slowly. I was leaving for San Francisco in a few weeks for the holidays, after all. That would give me some time to explore this and figure out exactly where I was headed.
    I wasn’t looking forward to going to San Francisco at all. I’d managed to get out of going home for Thanksgiving this year, but Christmas was