He places his hand over my heart, his eyes locked with mine. “This is beautiful,” he says with a gentle tone. “And because this is beautiful, this is beautiful too.” He moves to place his palms to my temples. “And if these are beautiful, you’re beautiful.” He leans in and gives me a tender kiss on the forehead.
“I have ugly hair,” I say trying to fight him.
“It’s luscious, dark, and long. I wish you’d wear it down more often.” He smiles.
“My legs are too skinny, my body’s too long, and my face looks like a fairy’s.”
Stepping back, he shakes his head before he bends to pick up the dumbbells again. “Nope,” is all he says. I wait for more. But I don’t get anything else.
“Well then, I’ve got a joke for you,” I say, not really knowing where to go from here.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“What’s the best thing about Switzerland?” I ask.
“What?”
“Don’t know. But the flag is a big plus.” I giggle at the stupid joke, and AJ raises his brows while he continues working is arms. “Oh, come on, that was funny.”
“For who?”
I roll my eyes. “Alright then, what about this one? Did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut?”
“You’re killing me, Kate. Don’t tell me, he needed a bit of space?”
“Oh, no fair! You already knew that one.” I sulk, and AJ smiles cheekily. “Hang on,” I say thinking about his response. “Why did you say he and not she?”
“Huh?” AJ looks over to me, confused. “What?”
“You said he needed a bit of space, why didn’t you say she needed a bit of space? Are astronauts all male? Or are you sexist?”
“What?” He looks over to me again. This time, his mouth is screwed up and his eyes narrow in question. “When have you ever known me to be sexist? And, I don’t know why I said he and not she. It’s just…I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“So you think only men can go to space?”
“Really, Kate? Really? Anyone can go to space. You just have to be fit and smart.”
“That means you’ll never get there,” I tease.
AJ stops his arm reps, and turns his head. His mouth is open with shock. “Now I’m hurt,” he says. But the corners of his lips quickly twitch with a smile.
Suddenly, he stops. He straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest. He glances sideways, and arches a brow. The palms of my hands become clammy, as I watch AJ go from fun-loving to rigid with dread anticipation. “Hey, want to play a game of Tic-Tac-Toe?”
AJ doesn’t acknowledge me. As he moves closer to the door, he clenches his hands into tight fists. I can see his knuckles turning white from where I am. “You have to leave,” he says, his voice low but firm.
A lump sits in my throat. I can’t leave, not now. I have to be here for AJ. “I was thinking we could put a movie on. What do you want to watch? Your choice. Anything. I’ll even watch one of those stupid action movies you love so much.”
AJ’s eyes close, as he hangs his head down low. His lips draw into a pursed thin line. He shakes his head. I’m not sure what he’s saying ‘no’ to. “You have to leave.”
I breathe quickly through my mouth. My insides are going crazy. My stomach is knotting as my blood cools. I know what AJ is going to have to do. “AJ,” I say as I stand.
“Go away!” he shouts at me.
“AJ,” I say again in a softer voice.
AJ walks over to his cupboard, opens it, and slides out a box with an overstuffed bunny rabbit. When I first saw the bunny, it was pristine white. It’s been through a lot, and now has a gray tinge to it. He holds the bunny by the paw, the bunny stares at me. “Kate, you have to go,” he says again, this time in a low, pained voice.
“Let me stay and help you.”
He shakes his head, and wipes at his eyes with his free hand. “Kate, get out. Get out before I throw you out. I don’t want to, but I will if you force me.” He stands, fixed to the one spot. His head drops as he holds the bunny.
“AJ. Please…” I can tell how much this is hurting him.
He throws the bunny on the bed, stomps over to me, grabs me by the shoulders and lifts me off the ground. I should be scared of him, but I’m not. I know his mind and body is screaming with pain. He doesn’t want to do this, but there’s no other way. “Get out,” he yells in my face. His mouth is scrunched, but his eyes tell a story of fear and agony. He shoves me, and I fall back against the wall. He takes a step closer to me, but stops and backs up. Tears well in his eyes. “Just go,” he says as he holds back a strangled cry. I don’t see AJ cry often, but when he does, it breaks my heart.
I pick myself up, and move closer to him, wanting to console him, ease the pain he must be feeling. But AJ backs away from me, his hands up in a position of surrender. He turns, grabs the bunny up off the bed, straightens his shoulders and marches toward his door. He leaves the room, slamming the door shut so hard, it rattles.
My soul grieves, knowing what AJ has to do.
I fall to the floor, curl into a ball, and weep.
Walking back to my room, my head is swimming. Back in my room, I open the cupboard, take the box out, and shove that stupid bunny in it. I thrust the box back in the cupboard and slam the door.
I plunge face down onto the bed, and let out the tears that I’ve been holding in. I don’t cry in front of the others, I can’t. If they see me falling apart, then they’ll know I’m not strong. And if they think I’m not strong, they won’t be strong either.
My throat is tight, and my stomach is gurgling. Not from hunger, but from sadness and rage.
I hate being the enforcer. Really hate it. There’s nothing admirable or strong about being the enforcer.
It takes me a long time to calm down, maybe an hour, maybe even a day. I don’t know, but I eventually stop feeling sick, and stop crying. This is what happens every time I have to take that damn bunny out of the box. I hate this part of my job.
Turning my head, I see my dumbbells laying on the floor. I push off the bed, grab my dumbbells and start pumping my arms. I push hard. I keep going until my arms burn. The fire coming from my muscles distracts from the agony I feel in my heart.
I keep flexing my arms; I have to. I have to hurt myself to atone for my role in this. I can’t not hurt myself. I deserve to be in pain. I deserve the misery for what I do.
My arms are weak, like I am. Although they struggle to keep lifting. I have to do this. The sweat rolling down my back only reminds me to push harder. My hands clenched around the dumbbells are becoming slippery from the sweat gathering. I know I’m about to drop the dumbbell out of my right hand. I don’t care. It can fall on my foot. Hopefully it’ll break the bones. I deserve to be handicapped. I deserve the wrath of Satan to come down on me, to exile me to Hell. I deserve this, and more.
The dumbbell slips out of my right hand and falls. I don’t even try to move my foot. But the dumbbell doesn’t fall on my foot. It lands with a deafening thud and bounces once before it stops. “Why?!” I scream. “Why couldn’t you hurt me? I deserve it!” I yell at the stupid dumbbell.