Where Time Stands Still

by N.S. Perkins

“The wind’s pretty harsh on the farm. Would you like something warmer to wear?” I say as I grab my fleece-lined jacket. She shakes her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine.” Sure.

“Great, you?” I’m not about to tell her I’m two seconds away from having a panic attack at the idea that I’ll need to disrupt my life for the next few months.

She’s the kind of person who commands attention, no matter what she does. I’ve known that since the moment I sat beside her at that bar, like a gravitational pull from one large planet to a smaller one.

If Wren says it’ll be okay, then it’ll be okay.

Aaron Scott-Perez makes me want to talk.

“I’d just never want to pass down my genes.”

:(

That earns me a smile. And what a beautiful smile it is.

I lean forward, her soft hair brushing my cheek, before murmuring in her ear, “Good.” Then, I push her body and keep hold of her hand so I can spin her around once, twice. I catch her hips at the end of her last turn, this time her back to my front. Wren’s breathing is loud and shallow. Her smell is everywhere.

goodlord

“But it’s all we have left,” he says, voice cracking over the last word. Without thinking, I break the space between us and wrap him in my arms. His chest is shaking against me, and I soon realize he’s started crying. It’s the kind of sobbing that doesn’t let out a single sound, the anguish too heavy for words or cries. Grinding my teeth together, I squeeze him tighter, no space left between our bodies.

Dark hair tousled, brown eyes glinting, he gives me all of his trust with a single nod. It’s one of the most beautiful gifts I’ve ever been given.

I get up, ready to tell whoever it is to leave me alone, but words die on my tongue as soon as I open the door. Impossible. Aaron is standing on my landing, dressed in dark jeans and a clean white shirt, a dark wool coat on top. Snowflakes dust his dark hair, which is combed to the side. He’s a dream. I mean, I must be dreaming. “What…” I start. He smiles, which makes him even dreamier. “Merry Christmas, Wren.”

He drove here. On Christmas night. Because he knew I would be alone.

brb sobbing

“Molly, stop it,” I chastise. “It’s okay,” Aaron says as he pets her. Leaning closer to her ear, he then whispers, “I’ve missed you too.” Aaron Scott-Perez alone? Very handsome. Aaron Scott-Perez on my landing on Christmas night with a Tupperware full of food he knows I couldn’t cook for myself? Sexy as hell. But Aaron Scott-Perez talking to my dog while petting her? I’m melting. Literally. I’m so hot, I think I’ll need to reapply deodorant in a few minutes.

So, instead of talking, I take a step forward and wrap my arms around his torso, so tight I’m probably crushing his lungs.

he relaxes against me and puts his arms over my shoulders, squeezing my head against his chest. He smells so good, like snow and cold air and him, his warmth enveloping me, and for a second, I find myself thinking I never want to step away. I could stay like this forever. His muscles are hard under me, flexing as he pulls me even closer against him. I swallow. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers over my hair. “Merry Christmas, Aaron,”

“Were you watching me sleep?” I say, skin warming up. “Couldn’t pass on the opportunity.”

She’s pure magic.

“I mean, I guess not being alone is something new.” “You like it?” I take a step forward. My watch glows in the dimness of the hallway. 11:59. Her throat bobs. She stays silent as she nods slowly. “Good,” I say in a low voice.

She’s what I want.

Eight. I need to make sure I’m not imagining this. Slowly, I lift a hand and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Seven. She leans against my hand, her skin soft and warm. Six. Her eyelids flutter. I’m barely touching her, but her pulse is erratic against my fingers. Five. With my thumb, I caress her cheek. Four. Is this okay, Wren? Am I making a fool of myself? Three. Her eyes open. Two. She stares straight at me, but never moves away. There’s fire blazing in her gaze. Fuck the mistletoe. I want to kiss her because she’s her. One. Below us comes the sound of my loved ones celebrating Cañonazo. Neither one of us moves. In a voice almost too low for me to hear, Wren says, “Happy New Year, Aaron.” I answer by swallowing the last of the space between us and kissing her.

Except that what we just shared wasn’t just a kiss. It was the kiss. The one that makes you feel like the earth has stopped spinning. The one that makes you wonder how you ever thought kissing someone other than them was nice. The one that could make anyone do something stupid.

“You can’t just kiss me and leave like it means nothing,” he says, taking another step my way. His scent reaches me, and I stop breathing. He doesn’t care that we kissed. He cares that I left. “Aaron, I—” My sentence is interrupted by his hand reaching for my cheek, his touch so tender all of a sudden, I feel my heart fall to the floor. “Don’t do this,” he says, his soft breath touching my lips. “Don’t shut me out.” I exhale shakily as he whispers, “Not when I know you want this too.”

He makes me feel beautiful. He gives me warmth. He lights me up.

The delicate press of his lips against my temple makes my legs weak, and all at once, the beautiful promises I made to myself a minute ago to stay away from him fly out the window.

“What’s going on inside that beautiful head?” he whispers. “A lot,” I sigh. I want him. With the way his body reacted to mine, I daresay he wants me too. “Don’t overthink this, Wren.” His nose brushes mine. “Easy to say.” “Easy to do,”

“Now,” he murmurs above my mouth, “can I kiss you?”

Pulling his mouth away, Aaron opens his eyes, frowning. “You’re tensing up.” My lips twitch. His right index finger traces my bottom lip, causing goose bumps to erupt all over my body. “Relax. It’s just me.” He’s right. He’s just him. Aaron. The man who danced with me even when I must’ve looked like an awkward worm, and who played in the snow with me and my dogs, and who let me look through childhood pictures of him with his mother and sister because he knew it made me smile. He’s the best of them all.

“How can you be so perfect?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Go on.” “You’re not fine.” He lifts a hand and caresses my cheek with his thumb, the touch so tender it almost makes me whimper. Why does he have to be so attentive? I force a smile to my lips. “I’m telling you, I’m okay.” “Now that smile just proved you’re lying.”

“You’re doing so good,”

“Nunca me habia sentido asi por alguien.”

“But those are the best kind.” “Then we can watch that.” “You sure? You won’t wake up my neighbors with your screams?” He smirks. “Will you still love me if I do?” I freeze. He freezes. “I mean… You know what I mean,”

SCREAMINFDJHRW

“Oh, cariño, you just had to ask.”

Teasing my nose on the side of her throat, I whisper, “Aren’t you going to say please?” With a shaky exhale, she mumbles, “P-please.” With one arm caging her against the shelves, I put a hand on her belly, letting it slowly drift down. “Please what?” The last word comes out on her skin as I kiss her neck, then her shoulder. Her head bobs to the left to give me easier access. I don’t even think she realizes she does it, but every time I step closer to her, she adjusts her body so it’s easier for me to touch it. It drives me fucking crazy. “Please, help me…pick up the rice cooker,” she finishes, her voice airy. “With pleasure.”

STOPFHWFPA

“Aaron,” she sighs. “I’m here,” I say, kissing her neck, her chin, her ear. “I’m right here.” Lower, I add, “Always.”

“That’s not fair.” “Yes, it is.” I gave a peck on her lips. “When are you going to realize that making you happy makes me happy?” I’m afraid that she’s going to think I’m too much, but instead, she blinks and grins softly. “You’re too good for me.” “Wren,” I say as a gush of wind drags snow around us, shining in the moonlight. “Nothing could be too good for you.”

“You okay?” The leather of the chair I’m sitting on squeaks as I turn toward Aaron. “Huh?” I might’ve been lost in thoughts for a moment. “I asked if you were okay,” he says. “Oh. Yeah, fine.”

me when I oie

I notice that my leg is jumping up and down as we wait for my name to be called. Aaron notices it, settling a hand on my thigh as a comfortable weight. “What can I do to help?” he asks.

For the first time since we started…this, I woke up this morning and found him sleeping next to me, his chest rising and falling softly. His dark lashes fluttered for a moment, but he didn’t open his eyes. And I just laid there, admiring him.

In this moment, I realize if there was one thing I could wish for, it would be to live in a world where time stands still. Where Aaron and I could keep living without growing old, our bodies stuck in this place in time. This way, nothing would stop me from begging him to stay with me. I wouldn’t ever get sick. He’d never have to say goodbye. We could just be, together.

stop

Always pity, never a better outcome.

“Wren, stop it. I want to be there for you.”

Wren is standing in the living room. Jesus Christ. She’s glowing.

“You’re killing me, Wren. Fucking killing me.”

“God, how can you not see I’m so in love with you I can hardly breathe?”

“What do you want me to say, Wren? That I’m sorry for loving you? Because I’m not.”

I want it, Aaron, I want it so bad, but I can’t.

People always say to do the right thing. However, they never mention that doing the right thing can also mean feeling like the world is crashing down on your shoulders and burying you six feet under.

“If ever you couldn’t take care of him anymore, I’d be there, Wren. I’ll always be there.”

“I’m so tired, Aaron.” Letting my forehead fall to his shoulder, I let myself go and cry. And for the first time in a long while, I let him comfort me without any reticence. He’s where I want to be, and everything he’s telling me makes me feel like no matter how much I’ve convinced myself we can’t be together, maybe, just maybe, he has a point.