Amora: Stories

by Natalia Borges Polesso

But I had no voice, only hiccups and weakness; I wished I’d died, face-planted, broken my neck and every tooth, bitten off my tongue, been paralyzed.

“Chaos?” “No. My language. It’s chaotic, it comes from inside me, from a part of me that’s still wild. A part I don’t understand. I can’t grasp what I’m feeling. If I saw her right this moment, I’m not sure whether I’d kiss her or kill her or, ugh. Things get lost between my head and my mouth—somewhere unknown to me—and they never come back. I’m stuck. I can’t reach those things anymore, you know?

All that’s left here is this senseless knot and it scares me. ’Cause there are times when I’m so good at hiding the truth I don’t even recognize the story anymore, and it’d be totally weird if things actually happened the way I said they did. Like fiction. I’m not sure if it’s talking or desire that I’m afraid of.

“And you know what, Fran? That’s how I feel. Completely disfigured. Covered in bulky, disgusting sores that never heal. That will always cause disgust. Inside me. Neither hugs nor caresses nor anything else is comforting, because I feel so disgusted. When someone touches me, I feel scared, repulsed. Like I might dirty that person with my pus, like they’re going to infect my wounds. Any mention of intimacy fills me with dread.” And she paused. “It’s different with you. I don’t know why, but it’s like, with you, things are better.”

“I’ve spent a long time wondering why I went back for that computer. But it could have been anything, you know, anyone. Why do I keep searching for things in hell? I’m trying. I want to try. It’s me, you see? I’m not well. I’m on my way. Thinking of why. I’ll be all right. Thinking about stuff helps me get to important places.”

I don’t remember a thing, not the texture of her lips, whether they cracked in winter or were sunburnt in summer. All I have left is a photo. And I don’t remember where I put it.

stop. Ever since you showed up, I haven’t known who I am or who you are anymore; except I remember, I stress, I pause to think, because you’re so much more than all I’ve ever had.

me. For my part, I will try to remain unchanged so that you will always love me. Oh, so you like surprises? Well, in that case I’ll switch things up. But would you mind explaining how I’m meant to do that; it’s hard, after so much planning and counting, to leave the beaten path and attempt an unchoreographed dance.