When I met you

Traumas

Adam Melchior

There is no plausible justification for the way I acted. Ever since I was old enough to remember, I’ve been explosive and reckless. I act on impulse in the most brutal way possible, and I almost never regret it—until now. Until my impulsive actions made Akermisia afraid of me.

I would never, under any circumstances, hurt her. Not drunk, not blinded by hatred or rage. Hurting her has never been, and never will be, an option. But that’s not how Isía sees it, and how could I blame her? It’s not like I’ve given her any reason to believe otherwise.

And it’s not like it doesn’t hurt me.

The voice of my conscience keeps telling me over and over again that I’m not what she expects, much less what she needs.

I have to admit that last year wasn’t my finest moment, and because of the choices I made during that time, I’m still paying the price. Last night, my father showed me articles about me that one of his competitors was about to release in an attempt to sabotage an international deal he’d been working on for months. Stories that could stain the family name and damage the company’s credibility, because in the world we lived in, that’s all that mattered—appearances. I was furious with him. My father didn’t even bother listening to me or trying to understand my side of the story. He simply did what he does best: threatened me, then walked away, leaving my mind completely wrecked and full of triggers. As an escape, I turned to alcohol. It’s neither healthy nor justifiable, but it was the easiest, foggiest way I’d learned to deal with pressure.

I like not having to feel the constant mix of emotions and doubts. I like not caring about my choices or my actions. And I like not being aware of the weight of being who I am.

But this time was different because, even drunk, I could still feel every single one of Akermisia’s eyes on me. Her disappointment. Her fear. Her hesitation. Her pain. It hurt more than the beatings my father used to give me, more than any words he had ever thrown at me.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table drinking bitter coffee while the housekeepers clean up the chaos from the previous day. My head throbs from the hangover, and I’m in no mood for anything when I notice Kalon approaching out of the corner of my eye. He looked like he’d just gotten back from somewhere because he wasn’t as composed and perfectly put together as usual. His hair was messy, and he was dressed casually.

— Good morning. — He says, taking the seat beside me even though there are a dozen other chairs available around the table. — Still feel like punching your classmates and smashing a few bottles? — He casually bites into a piece of toast while a crooked smile spreads across his lips.

I ignore his obvious sarcasm.

— Thanks for not telling our father… — I admit, swallowing hard.

Kalon slowly looks at me and nods in silence. We didn’t have the best relationship in the world. To be honest, most of the time we hated each other.

Still, unlike me, Kalon hadn’t chosen to screw me over when he had the chance.

— He already knows your grades have plummeted, that you’ve been wasting time playing on the team instead of focusing on your career. If he found out you’d started drinking again after promising a few months ago that you’d quit, things wouldn’t end well, Adam. The last time you let alcohol take control of your life, we had to pull you out of a coma. How many times do you have to come close to dying before you understand? — he says, setting the coffee cup back on the table. — I thought you’d stopped after you met Akermisia. You were different. You were happy. — His dark eyes lock onto mine. — She’s a good girl. I’m sure she doesn’t deserve a man who makes scenes like the one you caused last night.

— You don’t know her. — I shoot back firmly.

— Maybe I don’t know her well enough, but I’m certain you don’t want her seeing you lying in a hospital bed the way we did. Do you want to make her suffer? Or are you actually going to do something about it?

I look away.

The phase of waking up unconscious in hospitals, crashing cars, and getting involved with dangerous people isn’t something I’m proud of. It’s the kind of thing I try to bury, yet somehow it always finds its way back to haunt me.

— I have to go. — I say, getting up to grab my jacket from the chair.

I’m about to leave the room when I decide to swallow my pride.

— Thanks for taking care of her last night.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kalon clench his jaw.

— I didn’t do it for you. — he replies.

The words hit me like a punch, but I don’t give them time to sink in.

I leave before they can.

✶

I skip the first two classes without feeling the slightest bit guilty. I can’t focus on studying, much less come up with an excuse. When lunchtime finally arrives, I decide to go after Akermisia since she hasn’t answered my latest messages or picked up any of my countless calls.

Because we’d spent so much time together over the past few days, I had a pretty good idea of her class schedule and knew where she liked to eat. At noon, Miller would leave campus and head to the diner near Sixteenth Street. I drove there, parked as soon as I arrived, and didn’t waste any time stepping inside and searching for her.

The bell above the door is still ringing when I spot her sitting at one of the window tables, as beautiful as ever. Her brown hair shines beneath the sunlight. I imagine she washed it that morning before heading to her first class. Her skin is free of makeup, and seeing that reminds me of the night before—of the way her eyes had been swollen and red. Isía is wearing a skirt, a blouse, and a casual wool cardigan.

Just seeing her makes the air feel lighter, as though someone had filled the room with more oxygen.

I’m about to walk over when a guy carrying two trays approaches her, sits across from her, and slides one of the meals toward her, making her smile.

Why was she smiling at him?

The guy makes some joke before reaching across the table to touch her hand—a gesture intimate enough that she doesn’t pull away from it.

A hollow ache settles in my stomach, as if all the air has suddenly been ripped out of my body.

Jealousy consumes me.

Just seeing her with that guy feels like my heart is about to explode, and imagining her kissing him makes my stomach twist. I can’t stop myself from walking straight toward them. My thoughts blur together into complete chaos, and before I realize it, I’m standing much too close to avoid making a scene.

— Adam? — Her eyebrows lift.

Her determined voice and resolute expression are unmistakable. That was one of the things that attracted me to her the most. Her personality is so strong, so impossible to ignore, that there’s no backing down. No matter how hard Akermisia Miller tries to hide, she’ll always overflow wherever she goes.

— So that’s why you couldn’t answer me? — I ask, staring directly into her eyes.

— Who’s this guy, Akê? — the guy I’d been trying to ignore finally decides to open his mouth.

My jaw locks, and Isía immediately realizes I’m furious that he’s calling her by such an intimate nickname.

I turn toward him.

He’s an athletic, handsome Asian guy. I’d never seen him around campus before, and Akermisia had never mentioned him to me. The only thing I could think was what the hell he was doing there. Who had given him enough familiarity to interrupt our conversation and cut me off like that?

One thing was certain.

He had no idea who I was.

— Her boyfriend. — I answer for the i***t. — And who the hell are you?

A smug little grin appears on his face.

— I don’t care who you are. I don’t owe you any explanations.

— Oh, but you should. — I clench my fist at his response. — You’ll want to know exactly who I am after I’m done knocking that arrogance out of you.