A shape is sitting motionless in the high grass at the edge of a lake. Silently I walk towards Evan and sit down next to him. 'Hey.' he signs. 'Hi.' I sign back. 'What do you want to talk about?' He looks me in the eyes and I quickly turn away my head. 'Why did you leave so sudden?' I shrug. 'I had to go home.' Evan shakes his head. 'No, I don't believe that. You would have said that! No, it is because you accidently touched my hand, isn't it?' I immediately go back to that very moment, like it just happened. What stayed with me the most was that burning feeling on the spot where I touched him. I had a struggle with myself; on one hand I was afraid for it and I never wanted to see him again and on the other hand, heartbreaking hand I wanted to go back to experience it once more.
'You don't need to answer, I can see it in your eyes. I don't understand why it is bothering you so much.' Evan's movements are getting more and more violent and now he's even starting to talk. 'God damn it, May, you're almost sixteen!' Ouch. That hurts. My hands are lying motionless on my lap. I want to throw up a load of counterarguments, I want to defend my opinion, but I know, deep inside, that he actually is right.
Evan tries to control his breathing and he apologizes. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have got that angry with you.' he signs. 'You don't need to apologize.' He sighs exhausted. 'It's just very annoying when you try to help someone who you really care about but who doesn't except your help.' I'm not sure what I should answer, so I just nod.
It's quiet for a long time. I'm wondering what he's thinking. Maybe he is also wondering what I'm thinking about. That would really be a deadlock.
'Could you explain to me why it is bothering you so much?' Evan doesn't really break the silence with his question because he is signing it, but it still feels like the fog of silence is split in half by an ax. What should I answer to this? Why does it actually bother me? Does it actually bother me?
'It was so new. I think it just frightened me a bit.' Evan seems overwhelmed for a moment. 'New? You mean you never held someone's hand?' I slowly shake my head. 'Also never your parent's hands?' I shake my head again. 'I never wanted that.' I explain. 'So you don't know if you like it or not?' I shake my head suspiciously. Evan seems to prepare his next move. I have a strange presentiment of what he's trying to do, but I'm not sure how I'm going to respond to that. Maybe I should just let it come to me. Everything that happens has a reason. So it's not coincidence that this boy with his black hair and golden-brown eyes is sitting here and saying this.
'That you should try, don't you think?' Evan says reserved. I am sitting motionless. I don't nod, I don't shake my head, I don't answer. The only think that happens is that my heart starts to beat faster and that I get a strange feeling in my stomach. I don't even want to think about what he's trying to do and what he means with it.
From the corner of my eyes I see him move. He's turning his body in my direction. 'May, please look me in the eyes.' The warmth of his voice is hypnotizing. I hate that voice. Just because it wouldn't matter how hard I would try to fight it, I would have to look at him. I slowly turn my head and look at him. In his eyes I see a reflection of how I feel; anxiety and at the same time excitement. Evan knows this. He can read it in my eyes, I'm sure. Just like he also noticed it was his touch that made me leave.
'I don't kno
' In the middle of my sentence Evan grabs my hands. 'You have to talk if you want to protest.' he says. God, I hate this kid. I suppress the tendency to pull my hands back and walk away, because that won't help. If I don't go to him after that, he will find me, I'm sure of that.
I swallow and close my eyes. This isn't not something I like. Actually, I don't want this at all. So, let's just get over with it.
But nothing happens. Or at least, not something I expected. Evan sighs deeply. 'You really don't want this, do you?' He gets up and walks away. My eyes are still closed. A chilly breeze brings me back to reality. Back to the cold grass around me. Back to the wind in the trees. Back to the fact that I just exactly did and did not get what I wanted. Which is nothing.
A part of my wants to go after him and tell him what I feel, with words, not with signs. But the other, major part knows that I just can't. I won't be able to speak. I just can't. No after all these years of silence.
I open my eyes and stand up. Nothing happened. I didn't do anything that is strange. I say that to myself while I walk home, worriless.