SENNA XIANG
Irr-
I: Irresistible
Outside your old high school. You came home from college for winter break, promised to meet me underneath the wide oak tree next to the LED sign that blinked DRIVE SAFE SENIORS in alternating red and blue, like police lights. You were late. I understood. Flights from California were always late, like you’d told me once. It’s the ash, the wildfires, the damn crystals screwing up the planes. I might have been late, too. It took me two hours to drive up here. Good thing I left early.
Hi, I said, my mouth feels like it’s freezing off, want to go somewhere? No, you said, let’s just stay here for a while. I missed you, that’s all. I love you.
We watched a faction of freshmen spill out of the school. She used to have a crush on me, you said. Pointed to a pink-haired girl in a short skirt. Isn’t she too young for you? I asked. You shrugged. I guess it didn’t matter when I wasn’t 18. Didn’t it, though? She’s no one important now, though.
It started snowing. I forgot my jacket. Let’s go somewhere, I said. Please thaw my mouth out. I love you. You leaned down and kissed me. Okay, let’s go to Donna’s. I’ll pay.
II: Irreplaceable
You met my mother last week. I lied and said you were a high schooler. He looks so mature, doesn’t he? Yes, he’s rather mature for his age. I felt your hand on my back, burning a brand into the silk of my shirt, your fingertips feeling like dimes slotting into the crevices of my skin. Later, my mom asked me to tell you to stay for dinner.
After dinner, we turned on the TV. I watched the glow of Gundam gash your face into fractions, fragments rupturing each other into the territory of strangers. You already knew the ending to the movie, so what was the point in watching it? For you, you said. I want you to like the things I like, or we would have nothing to talk about.
We always talked about nothing, wasting our watches away, letting time helm our journey. All the chick flicks with a happy ending always showed the couple talking about nothing, though. I thought happiness equated to nothingness, so I was glad when the silence quartered our night. I saddled myself in your lap, felt good when your hands heated my hips.
III: Irresolute
I stood outside your front door. We haven’t spoken in a week. The storm door had a large crack in the center that forked the glass into fragility. The orange light from the wall sconce bore my body into a lurid artifice. I wore a short, pleated skirt with lace on the hem, sneaking out of the threshold of my house, evading my mother’s gaze. I knocked, and waited for you to open the door.
What are you doing here? Your voice sounded like a rusty chain. I’m here for you. Do you want to go out somewhere? I heard your mom shouting Who’s at the door? No one important, you shouted back. My teeth got caught in the rind of my lips, silence needling itself through my mouth like telephone wires. Call me later, you said. I’m busy right now. The wires tightened. Okay, baby, I’ll call you later. I love you. You closed the door, the red paint pulsing like a heart. The storm door cracked a little more, and the light flickered off, forfeiting my body back to the lightless winter.
IV: Irresponsible
Sorry I forgot to call you. Been busy lately.
V: Irrational
Remember when we used to play Seven Minutes in Heaven? I asked, flapping my legs back and forth in the swing. I was really excited to kiss you. I pulled my hands away from the chains of the swing, sniffing them surreptitiously. They smelled like I’d plunged my hands into the fountain at the mall in town, stealing the coined dreams of children and swallowing them remorselessly.
I don’t remember if I wanted to kiss you or not, you replied. Your hair scrolled back in the wind, your ears flushed red. I played it a few weeks ago, I said. I kissed two girls.
What? Your eyes pierced mine. Are you a slut or something? Jesus fucking Christ. Don’t go around kissing girls. Or guys.
But you kiss other girls all the time at college, I said. I felt like a petulant child. I could have pretended like I was joking and counterfeited my words. It’s not like we’re together-together. I pushed my legs off the wood chips and started pumping up and down. Still, you said, I don’t like the thought of you kissing other people.
You don’t control me. You’re not even around here, for God’s sake. Kissing girls is going to get you in trouble, you snapped. I’ll kill you first, I’ll kill you I’ll kiss you I’ll kill you, I swear.
VI: Irritated
Do you want to hang out one more time before you leave again? I put the phone on speaker while I was sorting my closet. Donate, trash, donate, sell, donate, donate, trash. God, you need to stop fucking calling. I have a life too, you know. I felt the iciness leaching through the phone, freezing up the receiver. Maybe that’s why we misunderstood each other.
I just thought you missed me, I said, folding a pair of pants. We won’t see each other until April. When spring would kiss winter’s mouth, thaw it out. Not if you’re so damn clingy, you said.
Maybe we should just break it off. I heard my voice echoing, clattering up and down the line like nickels. Let’s decide to unlove each other. That’s fine with me.
VII: Irreversible
No, I’m sorry. I don’t think I loved you, even when I was trying.
Senna Xiang is a teen writer. Her work is published in Gasher Journal, Peach Magazine, Superfroot Magazine, and other lovely places.