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You hope and pray a lot.
It’s not that life is bad by any means. You’re happy and grateful and you have so, so much. Yet, more often than not, you’re left feeling incomplete.
You graduate high school and you decide to stay in New York. Your family is here. It would be difficult to move away from such a support system. Your closest friends from school all left to go to university outside the state, two are not so far away in New Jersey and the other - a boy you eventually realized is better as nothing more than just a friend - moved off to Texas.
You’re missing something. You’ve felt it for a long time. So, you spend time hoping and praying.
Whatever’s absent from your life, you’re sure it’ll find you.
-
You’re used to the ways of the city and you love it so much. People everywhere, going about their day and living their lives. You try to smile at everyone that you pass by throughout the day. Sometimes everything’s moving so fast that faces blend and blur into one another.
On this day, for a moment, everything seems to slow down and your eyes catch on to a flash of blonde and blue.
Your eyes lock and you smile.
Then she’s gone. You’re not going to forget her anytime soon.
-
“I recognize you.”
Those eyes that are concentrating so intently on the sketchbook in front of them to raise to meet yours.
There they are. The bluest. She’s definitely the girl from the sidewalk. She smiles and there’s a slight familiarity in her eyes. You can tell she recognizes you, too.
“Hi,” her voice is quiet and you want more of it. You muse, briefly, or - hope - that maybe she’s what you’ve been missing all this time because you feel pulled toward her in such a way you’ve never gravitated to anyone before. It’s silly, you think, you don’t even know her.
So, you sit across from her at the table and she doesn’t ask you to leave.
You learn that her name is Maya and that she’s only just moved to New York.
You talk for hours until it’s time for the bakery to close down for the night.
You can’t figure out how to say goodbye.
So, you don’t.
-
It’s way past your bedtime. But classes are hard and having a roommate that you haven’t been able to instantly click with prevents you from being in any hurry to get back to campus.
She invites you over to her apartment. She calls it a shit hole and explains that it’s all she can afford. It may be small but something about it has character. You like it.
There’s boxes, boxes, and more boxes. Heaps of clothings falling out of said boxes, strewn across the floor.
You may not know her so well but you imagine that these surroundings are very much who Maya is as a person.
Any flat surface that isn’t the floor is taken up by art supplies. You can’t help but find that endearing, you can tell art is important to her. The only thing that she seems to keep safe and protected. In the corner next to her bed is an easel, a blank canvas resting against it.
She hands you her sketchbook when you ask to see some of her art.
You explain that you’ve never really understood much about drawings are paintings. That you didn’t feel any sort of connection to the artist in a way to get what they’re trying to say through their art. But you think you understand Maya a little more.
Stories about your dad and how he’s also lousy at understanding art, how you think it’s one of the many things you inherited from him, are among the things you tell her.
You laugh and she laughs with you.
The way your laughter mingles together in a sort of disjointed harmony becomes your favorite song.
-
You’ve always been a trusting person. Maybe to a fault. All you’ve ever wanted to offer in return is that same trust.
Maya trusts you, you think. She tells you about her childhood. How her father left when she was very young. How her mother was rarely around because she thought Maya looked too much like her father. That she didn’t want to have to face that every day.
She’s so much more than enough and you want to tell her that. Her pain doesn’t have to be just hers anymore, because you’ll carry it for her if she needs. You wish only good things for her from now on.
When she’s finished talking, you reach for her hand. She doesn’t move away.
You consider that a victory.
-
Maya’s scared, she thinks maybe you both could use some space. Says something along the lines of getting too close, too quickly.
She’s wrong and you tell her so.
You need her.
She’s your best friend. You’ve never really had one and you know she hasn’t either.
It’s no secret that Maya views herself as someone that’s broken and all you want is to pick up those pieces and place them back together. You want to use yourself as the glue, thinking you can fix her. Maybe she can put you together, too. You’re what each other needs.
She promises to stay if you do.
You swear you’re not going anywhere. It’s not a thought you’d ever entertain.
It’s you and her, that’s what makes sense.
-
She kisses you.
Maya is warm and your heart is, too. You’re pressed close against each other in a tiny chair on her very small balcony at her apartment. Right next to her is your favorite place to be.
It’s raining and apart from the sounds of the storm it’s so, so quiet. You watch the water fall and the way the lightning rips and brightens the sky, the crash of thunder trailing closely behind.
You think of Maya and tell her that she’s thunder and you’re lightning. You say you can’t imagine the two elements without each other, that you certainly can’t imagine yourself without her.
There’s something in her eyes as she turns to you and she hesitates just for a moment before her lips softly graze yours. You need more, you sense she does too, because the kiss deepens. It’s sweet and addicting.
Finding your way through the doorway and to the bed doesn’t prove to be the easiest feat when your lips are still connected, both of you refusing to pull away, all awhile trying to shed articles of clothing.
After, you’re all wrapped up in each other with your hearts beating fast and a smile on your face. She’s in your arms and you’ve never felt so whole as you do with Maya.
She’s what you’ve been hoping for all this time.
-
You’re in love with her.
You tell her the moment you realize it and she doesn’t falter in saying it back immediately following your own declaration.
Your dad has this belief that the secret of life is that people change people. You think he’s onto something.
You’ve changed each other.
When she’s gone, you miss her. When she’s in your arms, you say you’re never letting you go.
She says that’s fine, that you’re her home now.
She’s yours.