Girls Week

~Nariya Patel~

A surge of excitement had kept me wide awake since Alexie's departure, with layers of thoughts racing through my mind like a relentless train, leaving me positively giddy this morning. Sleep seemed like a distant acquaintance, as the events of the previous night replayed in my mind like a stuck disc. The source of the sudden courage I exhibited eluded me, but amidst the haziness of intoxication, I acted on impulses that had lingered in my mind for quite some time.

I found myself oscillating between denial and acceptance in the aftermath. I scolded myself for trivializing the situation, dismissing it as a mere peck on the cheek or a fleeting touch of lips. Yet, the memory persisted vividly, etched in my mind even in the early hours of the day.

Every detail remained imprinted in my memory, from the subtle waft of aftershave lingering in the air to the coolness of his recently washed skin. I could vividly recall the gentle tickle of the slight stubble on his freshly shaved beard, replaying the sensation in my mind repeatedly. It was an enchanting experience; his face, in such close proximity, appeared even more handsome than when viewed from a distance. I marveled at the length of his lashes, the hitch in his breath, and the subtle parting of his lips — savoring each nuance as if it were a work of art.

However, like a pendulum, my mood swung, and I would groan at my perceived foolishness. Negative thoughts cast shadows over my memories, and a discouraging voice whispered sinister insinuations—how I might have made him uncomfortable, how the gesture was just a peck and held no significance for him, how I was perhaps being utterly foolish. Curling up against the pillow, I found myself murmuring, "Yes, I believe I'm foolishly in love..."

Startled by my own confession, I leaped up, sending Nyx beside me into a brief state of confusion. "No, no, no... In love?! What absurdity," I exclaimed, the abruptness of my reaction evident. Gradually calming my body, I retreated back into the comforting cocoon of my comforter. In an attempt to quell such thoughts, I coached myself that my feelings were purely platonic, akin to the innocent crushes little girls have on the men they admire.

Yet, despite these self-imposed rationalizations, one undeniable truth persisted—I sincerely missed his presence. Acknowledging the practicality that we still shared the same roof and that it hadn't been that long since his departure, the longing for his company remained undeniable.

Glancing at the watch beside me, I noted the unforgiving hour – it was already 4:10 am, and Alexie's flight must have taken off by now. Letting out a sigh, I reasoned that, with Mao's early-morning arrival imminent, it would be wise to snatch a few hours of sleep. Yielding to this decision, I succumbed to drowsiness and drifted into slumber.

The next morning, a shrill bell jolted me awake, and as I yawned and glanced at the clock, a gasp escaped me, "My! It's already so late." In a rush, I scurried to open the gate for Shu Mao. The girl at the front gate bore her luggage for the week, beaming a cheerful smile as she greeted me with a gesture that said, "Good morning."

Sighing, I gestured a belated greeting back, attempting to convey my apologies for the tardiness as I guided her to my room. However, my proficiency in gesturing was limited, making a smooth conversation challenging. Witnessing my struggle, she compassionately placed her palm on my arm, signaling me to pause, and then gestured back slowly, facilitating my understanding.

"I.can.read.lips"

I responded with a surprised "Oh," feeling a bit awkward. Starting to speak, I questioned, "Why... why didn't you say so before?" She hesitated, scratching her head, and after a moment, gestured back with a reply,"I.Dont. Want.Him.To.Know" Furrowing my brows at her response, I refrained from pressing the hesitant girl further, assuming that by "Him," she meant The Handler.

She then pulled out a book from her bag, along with some typed documents, handing them to me. As I looked through them, I realized that the book was about hand gestures and their meanings, while the documents contained a detailed plan for my physical training sessions. The plan was explicitly mapped out, designed for beginners to easily learn Muay Thai, and I was impressed by her thoroughness.

"Wow," I breathed as I perused the sheets. "This is very well done, from the warm-up to the diet. Thanks for the book, Mao."

She smiled shyly at my praise and gestured something, but I couldn't catch it. I asked her to repeat, but some words remained beyond my comprehension. Deciding to begin practicing from the book right away, I also realized we needed another method for communicating complex ideas. Scanning the room for a solution, an idea clicked in my head. Grabbing my notebook and pen, I brought them to her, urging, "Here, talk using this."

To my surprise, she glanced at me and then at my extended hand, shaking her head. Confused, I asked, "Why?" If she could type such an intricate document, writing should be no issue. I couldn't fathom her hesitance.

Sighing at my confusion, she gestured something again, and once more, it eluded my understanding. Giving up, she took the notebook and wrote. My eyes widened as I comprehended her hesitation. "Oh, are you ashamed of your penmanship?" I gently inquired. She nodded and handed me the notebook. Reading through the broken scribbles of words, she wrote, "My writing is no good." Fortunately, having experience teaching elementary school kids as a volunteer, I knew exactly how to help Shu Mao.

Taking her hands, I whispered encouragingly, "I know what I can do for you, Mao! You teach me martial arts, and I will teach you how to write in cursive." A soft smile bloomed on her lips as she nodded, agreeing to the arrangement.

We commenced our journey at a measured pace, engaging in the gradual cultivation of endurance through running. Day by day, we meticulously adhered to the structured regimen, and my remarkable progress drew astonishment from my companion. A significant contributing factor to my swift advancement was rooted in my background as a classical dancer and my dedicated practice of yoga, both of which imbued me with physical prowess.

As time progressed, we embarked on the rudiments of Muay Thai, steadily advancing through its foundational elements. In the evening hours, a different facet of our shared pursuits unfolded as I undertook the role of an instructor, imparting the art of writing to Mao . Delving into the intricacies of letter formation, we discerned the need to subsequently delve into the nuances of grammar and punctuation.

Simultaneously, the tapestry of our companionship and mutual trust was weaving itself intricately. In the nocturnal realm, after partaking in the culinary arts together, we retired to our respective sleeping quarters. Despite the formality of separate rooms, the magnetic pull of camaraderie drew us into spontaneous and lighthearted activities, such as engaging in spirited games or indulging in pillow fights until the late hours.