Body and Soul

I don’t know why I thought this summer would be the one that changed things. Maybe I read too much when I was a kid—all those romance novels that had the hero swooping in to save the damsel in distress really got my hopes up that one day I could be saved like them too.

I first met Arthur at the pool. His hair shimmered in the sun like liquid gold and droplets clung to his perfectly sculpted abs as he pulled himself out of the water. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I doubted he’d even notice me. Me, sitting underneath a poolside umbrella in the shade hoping the heat wouldn’t make me pass out, and him, moving gracefully through the world as if he were god’s favorite.

Love at first sight was something that only happened in movies, but what I felt in that moment might have come close. When his eyes miraculously met mine and he smiled so brightly his whole face lit up, time ground to a halt and fireworks burst to life in my chest. Hesitantly, I smiled back.

Then, he stood and started walking my way—closer and closer until he stood in the shade beside my beach chair. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Arthur, what’s your name?”

My tongue suddenly felt like lead in my mouth, but I forced myself to speak anyway. “Beatrice. But you can call me Bea.”

“Well, Bea, do you think you’d like to go out with me sometime?”

And I would. Of course I would. But in the twenty years I’d been alive, I had yet to find someone who cared enough about me to stick around for long. But it was the last summer before I graduated college and I wanted to make it count.

“I think I’d like that,” I said instead of running away—instead of telling him I wanted to ‘focus on my studies’ and wasn’t interested in dating right now.

“Great!” He smiled again, and my heart skipped a beat. “You want to swim for a bit then grab dinner after? There’s a nice place not far from here that has the best food in town.”

My muscles tensed. “I was actually getting ready to head back to my apartment to catch up on some work I’m behind on,” I lied, “but I’d love to get dinner later.”

I expected him to look disappointed, but his smile never wavered. “No worries. I’ll give you my number so you can text me where to pick you up. Is 6 good for you?”

I nodded and handed him my phone, thoughts whirling through my mind. I needed to find something to wear, then take my anti-nausea medication and pray I could get through the meal without throwing up. Oh, and make sure my cat’s automatic feeder was filled.

He handed my phone back, and I hurriedly slung my beach bag over my shoulder. “I should get going, then. I’ll see you at six.”

He waved—and even that small gesture seemed graceful—as I walked toward the apartment complex a block away from the pool. My heart beat an uncomfortable rhythm as I walked in the scorching heat, and I let out a sigh of relief when I finally arrived in my room.

A mirror hung on the wall by the door and I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in me. It reflected my pallid skin and the discoloration from my heating pad lining my stomach under my bikini top, the bruising under my eyes that no amount of concealer could ever truly cover up, and the messy ponytail that kept my hair off my neck. A ghost stared back at me.

Would I even look like a person next to him?

I looked away.

My makeup was tossed into the back of a junk drawer in my small bedroom because I rarely had the energy to do it, but I dug it out anyway because it felt right. I wanted to feel beautiful on this date with Arthur, not tired. As I did my eyeliner, my hands trembled, and the wings came out a little lopsided, but it was better than just me.

I chose a pretty pink sundress from my closet that I’d worn maybe once years ago. Watercolor flowers sprawled across the skirt, and I twirled in front of the mirror to admire how they fluttered around me.

Finally, I grabbed some water, popped open my medication, and swallowed one of the small, white pills inside.

Six o’clock came with a knock on the door that revealed Arthur dressed in black slacks and a white button-up dress shirt. His rolled up sleeves hugged his toned forearms snugly. I couldn’t help but wonder if he went to the gym regularly. Maybe he lifted weights, or did calisthenics—any and all of the things that my joints couldn’t handle.

“You look amazing, Bea,” he said.

Heat rose to my cheeks. “So do you.”

“Are you ready to go?” He offered his hand. “My car’s right out front.”

I slipped my hand into his and reveled in his warmth as we made our way down the stairs. His car was a black Toyota Camry and he opened the passenger door for me when we got there. It was a nicer car than mine, and the drive was only a little awkward because I didn’t know what to say. But, Arthur filled the silence with stories from his childhood that made me laugh earnestly.

When we arrived and sat down at a table in the corner of the room, he asked me about my life. He listened with rapt attention as I told him I was studying computer science, but didn’t know what I’d do once I graduated with the current competitiveness of the job market. I very carefully didn’t mention that I couldn’t work a full time job yet because I hadn’t been able to overcome the pain and fatigue I’d endured since middle school.

In return, he told me that he was set to take over his father’s business after he finished college. College courses that he paid for himself, not wanting to rely on his father’s benevolence. Such a hard worker, I thought and felt ashamed that I let my parents pay for my classes and apartment. Outwardly, I smiled politely and took another bite of chicken as I tried to ignore how it settled like lead in my stomach.

We didn’t stay for dessert, and Arthur walked me to my apartment like the gentleman he is. Our faces were inches apart, and his eyes darted to my lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” I whispered.

His breath mingled with mine. “I find that hard to believe.”

The kiss was chaste, nothing like what I’d seen on TV, but it made my lips tingle and my body spark with anticipation. He pulled away, and I fought the urge to chase the sensation of his mouth on mine.

“This was great. We should go out again sometime,” he said.

Breathless, all I could do was nod.

“How do you feel about ice skating?”

“What?” I asked dumbly. “But it’s the middle of summer.”

He chuckled softly. “There’s a rink with open skates on Fridays. I could take you tomorrow.”

“I can’t tomorrow.” My smile faltered. “I’m pretty busy this weekend. Would next Friday work?”

“No problem,” he replied easily. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you,” I said softly.

After Arthur left, I spent the night huddled on the bathroom floor, fingers white against the cool porcelain of the toilet. My stomach didn’t settle until the early hours of the morning, when the light began to shine through the trees. It was just as miserable as it always was, and I fought back tears of frustration. Just push through. But it was so hard to just push through every time if there was no end in sight. Something wasn’t called ‘chronic’ because it had an end date.

The next week, I survived by nibbling on bland toast and small sips of water when I could manage. My head swam when I stood, and I could barely think straight through the thick fog that crept its way through my brain. Arthur texted me once, but I didn’t respond. I hoped he wouldn’t think I was ignoring him. I wasn’t. In fact, I thought about him whenever I could—the taste of his lips, the slope of his shoulders, the deep blue of his eyes. He really was beautiful.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough, but somehow it managed to come too fast regardless. My stomach could handle small meals again, and I could sit up without the world spinning, but my limbs still felt weak. At least the rink would be cold, so I could hide my knee and ankle braces under loose sweats.

When I opened the door to great Arthur, his smile waned for the first time.

“Are you ok?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

I pasted on a smile and brushed him off. “Yeah, I just slept like shit. The upstairs neighbors were stomping around all night.”

With that, the twinkle returned to his eyes. “I’ve been there,” he empathized. “Just let me know if you need a break.”

“Of course. Thanks.” I wanted to scream.

The trip was longer this time, and I was almost thankful. It gave me time to prepare for the strain the activity would inevitably cause. Along the way, we clicked through the radio stations and laughed at how bad we sounded singing our favorite songs. Somehow, with Arthur, it was easy to pretend everything was fine. Maybe, one day, it could be.

I learned that Arthur was the star of his college hockey team. He didn’t plan to go pro because it was just a hobby, but he’d been on the ice since he was in elementary school. I told him I used to dance before an injury took me out for the season and I never went back. The strain was too much on my body to do it regularly, even with physical therapy.

Skating felt like trying not to fall even when I was halfway to the ground, and I could already feel my joints groaning in protest as I held onto Arthur’s shoulders for dear life. All the while he skated backwards. Show off. But he was smiling, and it made me want to smile too, even though my muscles felt like they’d been run through a meat grinder.

Before today, I hadn’t known what it was like to see someone in their element, but Arthur made skating look effortless—almost as if he were flying. Was that what freedom looked like? I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it felt like. It was breathtaking.

He kissed me again on the way home. Kissing him felt like the beginning of something new and coming home all at the same time. In the heat of the moment, he picked me up and drew me close to his chest like I was something precious. This time, it wasn’t the same chaste kiss as it had been before. This time, there was something heavy in it, and I reciprocated in turn. I pressed against him tightly and dragged my hand through his impossibly soft hair, as if I could meld our bodies together.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against my lips, and I felt my whole body thrum with pleasure.

Like this, I wanted to see every piece of him, and he wanted to see every piece I would show him.

But like all things did, the date came to an end, and I was alone in my apartment again. The fatigue set in quickly, and the unyielding ache followed not long after. Bitterness swelled up in my heart as I thought about how good Arthur made me feel despite the agony that penetrated my skin and bone during our time together. Even his ever-present warmth wasn’t enough to drive it out, though I wished it was.

That night, I curled my stiff body into a ball underneath the covers and wept. I mourned the life that I wouldn’t be able to have as the feelings I’d bottled up since I was in middle school bubbled up to the surface. Arthur was the boy I’d dreamed of meeting and one day being able to love, but I’d never be able to love him the way I wanted to. I regretted going to the pool that day and seeing him and the life I could have lived

In the morning, when my head pounded like I drank too much, I regretted crying too.

I saw Arthur again next week and we went to see a movie. I barely even looked at the screen, too busy tracing the way the glow of the screen reflected across the sharp planes of his face.

We kissed again, afterward. For longer this time. I let him into my apartment and straddled his lap as we made out on my couch. His hands were a solid weight pressing into my hips, and I never wanted him to let go.

Dates with Arthur were the best part of my summer—maybe even my life. He’d text to set up a time and place for the next date after he went home, and I’d set it a week from then, sometimes longer. Just enough time to get back on my feet. We didn’t text between dates, but when we went out we’d talk for hours, then go back to my place and spend the night in each other’s embrace.

It was taking a toll on my body, and I knew that. I was eating less because food was harder to keep down when I pushed myself too much. Sometimes the date would be too soon, and my joints and muscles would still ache unbearably. But I never cancelled.

I wouldn’t call it a relationship—we didn’t label it—but it was something special even though it hurt. I dreaded the day summer ended because I knew we’d end with it.

Things didn’t change until one day, when summer neared its end, Arthur came over unannounced.

I didn’t know it was him when the knock came on the door. I shuffled over, wincing as my hips clicked uncomfortably, and opened the door. Arthur stared back at me with a small smile that froze on his face when he saw me hunched over, dressed in pajamas I’d worn all week, with bags under my eyes that highlighted how gaunt my face had become over the past few weeks. With makeup, it was easier to disguise, but I hadn’t thought to put makeup on when I wasn’t expecting company.

Then, I noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Are you ok?” he asked. “You don’t look very good. If you’re sick, you should have told me and I would have come over sooner.”

I chuckled bitterly. “I think you should go, Arthur.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“This isn’t the kind of relationship we have,” I insisted.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Bea, what’s wrong?”

“I—it’s just. We’re not.” I gestured haltingly between us. “What are you doing here?”

His face fell further. “I just came by to give you these.” He held out the flowers. “I saw them when I was out shopping and thought of when you told me you liked tulips because of how many colors they come in.”

I was surprised he remembered. Haltingly, I took the flowers and held them tightly to my chest.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

For a few beats, neither of us moved. I stared down at the flowers, and Arthur stared at me. I felt exposed.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

I took a deep breath. “Sorry, you’re right. I just haven’t been feeling very well, and—”

“Something tells me there’s more to it than that,” he cut in.

“It’s not something for you to worry about!” I snapped. “We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

His face softened. “Of course, but I care about you, Bea.”

And so I told him. I told him about my conditions—how I’d had them since middle school. I told him how they’d never go away, and I told him how I entered a relationship with him hoping it would make me feel something other than hopeless and empty.

“Did it?”

“Did it what?” I asked blankly.

“Make you feel something other than hopeless.”

I stared at the bouquet I still held tightly to my chest. The tulips were blue, purple, pink, red, and yellow. Some of them had started to wilt. They would all start to wilt eventually because they were cut stems just waiting to die.

I looked up at Arthur, at his piercing blue eyes filled with sadness for the first time since I’d met him. “I thought having someone to love—” my voice broke “—having someone to love would be enough to make me happy. That it might somehow make me better. I think I read too many romance novels when I was a kid.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “So, what do you want to do, then?”

“I don’t know.” I was just so tired.

“Then do you want to sit down and talk about it?”

I bit my lip. “I think I’d like that.”