But I know it will succeed. Because I am sure of the malevolence residing inside me, I know that the ritual is real. Whether or not I’m strong enough to perform it is a different matter.
Some days, the malice lies heavy inside me—restless, demanding to break free. On occasion, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to let it out. Some days, it’s almost as if it’s not there. Those are the days I worry I’ve lost my hold on it and it’s found someone else to hibernate in.
Because if it’s gone, I’ll never be able to bring her back.
So instead of brooding on it, I force myself into a conventional pattern: go to class, go home, do my homework, meditate, go to sleep. Go to class, go home, do my homework, meditate, go to sleep. Some days, I can’t help myself; when the loneliness is at its worst, I wait for her to come to me, though I know it’s useless to hope.
Some days, I still wake up expecting to feel the weight of her hair on me.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you,” Kendele says when I have fifty-four more days to go. She’s the only one I make room for nowadays, because I feel that I owe her that. Despite my reputation, she continues to be a good friend, dismissing what other people say about me. I wonder if, despite her popularity, she ever gets shunned because of me. If she does, she doesn’t admit it.
“Nothing’s wrong really,” I say. We don’t just frequent food trucks anymore. Sometimes, I bring her to an actual restaurant or take her to a movie we both want to see. I’m not exactly sure what the status of our relationship is. We haven’t promised mutual exclusivity. I know that she goes on other dates but isn’t serious with anyone else and that she wouldn’t mind if I did the same, if I wanted to. She’s not pressuring me to put a label on us. And for what it’s worth, I do like Kendele, and I appreciate her sensitivity.
We caught a movie earlier, and we’re having dessert at an Italian café just around the corner from the theater.
She pokes a spoon at her toffee-nut gelato. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But, you know, on the off chance that you do want to get what’s bothering you off your chest instead of being such a growly, brooding alpha male about i…”
“You’ve been reading way too many romance novels,” I tease. Miles apart from everyone else who knows about it—Kagura, Callie, Auntie, Saya—I don’t have anyone to talk to about what happened over spring break. “Remember the girl I told you about? The one who…ah…”
“The one you punched McNeil for,” she supplies, smiling. “I do.”
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Kendele looks startled. “She didn’t die, did she? You look so grim all of a sudden.”
That’s difficult to explain. In many ways, Okiku had—and yet…
The dark inside me pulses, sensing where my thoughts are heading.
“Not exactly. She had to go away, and I don’t know if she’ll ever be back.”
“Oh.” Kendele places her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Tark. How are you feeling?”
“A little out of sorts.”
“Do you love her?” The question comes out more tentative than her usual assertiveness. “And don’t give me that crap about not wanting to hurt my feelings. I want you to be honest with me.”
I couldn’t firmly answer her when she had first posed that question, months ago when Okiku was safely part of me. Now the answer comes naturally. “Yeah, I do.” I can’t classify the feeling as romantic, because it is and it isn’t. It’s everything, and the irony is that I can’t really explain my love for Okiku without sounding crazy. I’m floundering without her. I don’t know what to do without her in my life. She’s the most important person in the world to me, and now I might never see her again.
Kendele bites her lip and looks down. “She must be amazing for you to care for her that much.”
I force my dark thoughts away, not wanting to ruin the evening for her. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure that I should say anything, knowing how you feel. But I promised you I’d be honest.” As much as I’m able to anyway, I add silently.
“Thank you for that. I wasn’t—” Her head snaps up. “Wait. What do you mean by ‘knowing how you feel’?”
“Knowing that you’re desperately attracted to me, of course.” I grin smugly at her, then inch away when she pretends to dump her ice cream on me.
“You are the most insufferable, arrogant, and completely obnoxious—”
I silence her by leaning over and capturing her lips with mine. She gives in almost immediately.
Dense, my ass.
“What does this mean for us though?” she asks softly a little later. She’s shoved her chair next to mine so she can burrow under my arm, our gelato all gone. It’s getting late and I ought to take her home soon, but for now, I’m content to have her here, snuggled at my side.
“What are you thinking?” I ask her.