After the first day, the first time Amara and I had even kissed, let alone participated in the magnitude of sexuality that seemed to materialize between us, there wasn't a whole lot to say between us. It seemed, when we spoke, that we had exhausted our stories, our jokes and even the memories, and the only thing that hung between us was the sight of each other's naked bodies. Which may be a conversation starter for some. For us, however, it became such a block that we started making excuses not to see each other. Parties virtually stopped because we'd find excuses not to go, just so we didn't have to see the other. No one wants to hear this, especially me, but it seemed like sex had ruined our friendship, which in turn ruined our lives.
Let me rephrase that. Sex with each other had. We'd both had sex before, but in my mind we crossed a line, and as much as I wanted to jump back over, the line was now an impenetrable wall. Which destroyed a piece of me that liked to be with people and walk around seeing Life.
Most days, as I spiralled down, were spent sitting online, watching random videos, reading comics that weren't funny and laying in bed wondering how I might call Amara and somehow say something that would change us both back to what we were before: Friends. I'd even given up masturbation, knowing that every image I'd use to conjure up some lust would only turn into painful memories of my bedroom that day.
One day, I was doing just that. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, half trying to work up nerve to call, half not trying to think about anything. The phone rang a few times, stopping before it hit the answering machine. I never moved, figuring it was a friend who was making half-hearted attempts to get me out in public again. I didn't care. Finally the phone rang one more time than usual, cuing answering machine.
"Hey, this is my phone. Talk to me!" Came a voice that used to be mine.
"Shaun? Are you there?" My heart froze and sank toward the floor, a disconcerting feeling when you're standing, almost painful when horizontal. It was Amara's voice in my machine. "Shaun, pick up please. We need to talk, and I want to ask you something."
I stood slowly, pieces of my brain screaming at me to move faster and ignore the call simultaneously. But I picked up the handheld and cleared my throat. "Hello?" My voice was raspy and dry to my ears and I swallowed voraciously before trying again. "Hello?"
"Shaun?"
"Yeah."
"I need you to come over. Now." She hung up.
What?
I stared at the phone that began beeping at me to hang it up, confused as hell. What was I supposed to do? We hadn't spoken in weeks, I'd heard that she was doing as good of a vegetable impression as I was, but with more running mascara, and she calls me. And tells me to come over without prelude or explanation. What was I supposed to do?
By the time I actually asked myself that question and woke up more fully to my surroundings, I noticed my keys in my had about to start the ignition in my car. My body had answered my question for me. Easy enough.
The drive was instantaneous for me, my dread speeding things along much more quickly than I had time to prepare for, and before I knew it I was knocking on her door.
She opened it and I was stunned at how good and bad she could look at the same time. She was as gorgeous as the first time we had met, years ago, with more curves now. I had a sudden image of those curves with less covering, but I shook my head of it and examined her again. Her face was puffy, but determined, her clothes wrinkled but clean, older stuff that she would wear around the house to clean. And she looked hurt. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and...and be Shaun and Amara again.
"Hey." I said, in lieu of the hugging plan.
