Bring it.
There is a blip in his confidence. But he gives me an inviting smile that I cannot take personally. He’s probably done this countless times. I’m just another participant.
Esben signals Kerry, and she says, “Time starts now.”
Ten seconds. His eyes practically bore through me. Esben is not screwing around here. He means it when he makes direct eye contact. My hands tighten together. Despite how much I hate what is happening and how awful it is to force myself to not look away, I keep my expression blank, and I do not break from him. I don’t know how I will get through this. He’s making it worse by looking so at ease, so comfortable taking me in. But I will not back down.
It’s simple really, I remind myself. Just keep staring, stay solid and unbreakable. Feel nothing, because there’s no reason to.
Twenty-five seconds. I know little about him, but I do know for sure that he is nothing like me. That he is everything I am not. And mostly that this is an idiotic exercise in staring at a near stranger. After another few seconds, I resent him. I resent everything about him. Because, as his eyes are locked on to mine, I feel as though he sees more than the blue of my irises. And that makes me nervous. Vulnerable. Angry. He has somehow violated my protective shield, and in retaliation, I lock down even more.
Thirty-three seconds. I can’t block out my growing rage. How dare he put me in this position? Me, of all people? He reeks of freedom and generosity and openness. And I hate him right now. And he must sense that, because his head moves back ever so slightly.
Fifty seconds. I have hardened my look, but it is draining me. It’s more of a struggle than I would have thought to dislike him. Esben’s look is gentle, soulful even, and I am wearing down, because even more than his expression, it’s the feel of him that’s starting to wreck me. It’s undeniable that, as much as I want to dislike him, he exudes an energy, a spirit that overtakes me with calm. The area around his eyes moves just a bit, as though he wants to smile but he’s stopping himself. Somehow, he is feeling good; he is lifted by the show of whatever he has created in this face-to-face experiment. Trying to move as little as possible, to convey that I haven’t been affected, I inhale deeply through my nose and release the breath slowly through barely parted lips. I can’t hate him. As much as I want to, I just can’t. How can I hate someone else’s happiness? Or, I realize, joy? That’s it. Esben has joy about him.
Maybe what I feel is envy for what he has that I don’t. I try to lock down my emotions.
Seventy-three seconds. Despite my resistance, I cannot help but be pulled into this. Into him. I’m sure the onlookers are making noise, but I can’t hear anything except the even ebb and flow of my breathing. An unfamiliar sense of peace and relaxation has taken over me, and I let it stay. It’s so rare to feel like this, especially with someone else along for the experience. Yes, I can get to some version of quiet on my own, but it’s more about dead space. Nothingness. The absence of pain. What I am engulfed in right now is different. Not only am I swimming in a new version of serenity, but I have a partner in this. Esben is with me, no question.
Ninety-four seconds. Esben tips his head ever so slightly, as though he’s seen something in me. How could he?
But quickly, I understand. Whether I like it or not, he is taking in pieces of me, just as I am taking in pieces of him, too. Without talking, I am still internalizing this boy in front of me. I study his look more intensely.
Oh. It’s not that he sees something in me; he’s searching for something in me.
Esben must feel how high my walls are, and I am equally ashamed and grateful that my secret is out. A kind of disturbing relief washes through me. For the first time, I believe that someone wants to experience me. To value me.
One hundred and eight seconds. The openness in his demeanor, his willingness to be so present, to want an exchange of some sort, is stronger than I am. But he has no idea what he’s asking of me, what he’ll find. My attitude shifts. You want to play? I dare him. You want to use me for some kind of class project or whatever this is? You want inside my head? Fine. You have no idea how messed up I am. Go ahead. Drown like I do. I step out from behind my walls.
For the first time, I look at him as I am. I give him me. I’ll feel everything that I do on a daily basis and send it his way. We’ll see if he can take it. Wordlessly, I can slay him with my anger and pain. And that’s what I want. To take him down, to lash out at him in anger.
It takes only a few heartbeats for the twinkle in his eyes to dissipate. For a moment, it’s as though the wind has been knocked out of him. I know that look because it’s how I feel most of the time. His energy is more serious now, more intense. As if to punish him, to drive him away, I concentrate on how much I loathe myself, my inability to be anything resembling what he is. I flash through every house I’ve lived in, every school, and every family that was never really mine. Across the board, my life has been an accumulation of dysfunctional puzzle pieces that will never fit together. I will him to feel my repeated traumas.
One hundred and twenty-nine seconds. Yet what Esben is doing cannot be ignored. Even by me. Not for one second has he left me. Despite the horrific energy I am hurling at him, Esben is holding us together emotionally, giving me an unspoken promise that he will not drop me. The traumas that bind me every day, every hour, every minute soften until I barely feel their presence.
For reasons I cannot comprehend, I am lost in him. Safe. Right now, I am without a past that I hate. Right now, I am only here with him.
One hundred and forty-seven seconds. Even without taking my eyes from his, I see his shoulders move with his breathing. In addition to his kindness and sincerity, there is now an added element. Desperation? Need? He is not, I suddenly understand, freakishly perfect.
Esben has his own vulnerabilities. Apparently, we do have something in common.
One hundred and sixty seconds. We are engaged in a form of intimacy that scares the absolute hell out of me. It’s as if there is a weight on my chest that I want to shove off, and I’ve never been this terrified before.
Or this whole and hopeful and connected.
My body starts to tremble. I want more of what I’m feeling, and I also want none of it.
I don’t want to be so scared all the time; I don’t want to be terrified that the earth could splinter apart under my feet at any given second. I want to be happy, really happy. Dammit. If only I could hide from the shards of hope that are piercing through my defenses. I feel tears build, and I clench my jaw to fight them back. Esben lifts his head a bit and rubs his lips together. There is a mix of concern and empathy and promise and . . . oh God, there’s yearning . . . in his expression, and I know I am not mistaken about the shimmer that appears in his eyes. He takes a hard breath, as if trying to contain himself, and the sound of his jagged exhale courses through my body.
He, like me, is fighting something.
Together, we battle.
One hundred and seventy-three seconds. Emotion is going to swallow us whole, and I cannot survive this intensity any longer. I may break down under the ache that has settled over my heart. It will happen; I know it. I will succumb to the force, the pull, and I won’t emerge victorious.
It becomes hard to breathe normally as terror rips through me. I’m going to collapse because I am goddamn alive, and I have barely felt life until this. Until him.