The Descent

1

His smile made me fall in love with him and the sadness in his eyes, on his body, made me want to stay with him. To help him fix himself. He told me of the ways that his body was broken, the wounds on his soul. I learned of his reliance on medication to function. He showed me his scars, looking sheepish as he moved the webcam to make his knee, his arms, his chest, visible. His body criss-crossed with pink scars against white skin. He shared the new wounds that he gave himself, ruby blood streaming down his arms. It seemed like his outside matched my inside. I wondered if there was medication for the pain I felt every day. Thirty years of emptiness, loneliness, never being enough. I had accepted that it was my lot in life to be hollow. Still, somehow, there was that smile that seemed to light up the world, shy and insecure. I fell, head over heels, just like in a Disney story. There was light and magic. There was bliss. Every day I rushed home to see him across the miles and oceans that separated us. My loneliness slowly melted away, filling my heart with warmth, happiness, and belonging. I was no longer empty, but filled with light and joy which welled up inside me each time I saw his face. He became the high point of my day, the one who allowed me to be myself.

Over time, we became closer and our pain seemed to merge, creating one big wound. Still, we were healing. I supported his healing and he supported mine, silencing the voices in our heads. He assured me I was lovable, even though I had never felt love before. I convinced him that it wasn’t his lot in life to always be alone, to feel abandoned. We talked about everything, our hopes and dreams, our future and our past. Our connection seemed to soften the edges somehow, making the pain and emptiness bearable. He was my safe space, making me feel secure and protected. I felt a need growing inside me, a need to be by his side. It didn’t matter how far apart we were. I needed to be with him. I needed to know the touch of his skin, the way he smelled, how he tasted. Being with him became the focus of my world and I started to make arrangements, getting a passport, money, clothes, suitcases, everything I would need to move in one trip.

As I flew across the world to him, butterflies and fear filled my stomach. The hustle and bustle of the airport around me, no one was aware of the momentous occasion I faced. My parents, driving home, had no idea that they had just said goodbye to their only daughter. That I wasn’t planning on coming back. The next twenty hours on the plane I did all I could to keep myself calm and busy. I watched the in-flight movie and slept. When my plane landed in London I changed my clothes and tried to calm down, only a couple more hours and I would be face to face with the rest of my life. The fear of him not being there didn’t truly hit me until we touched down in Glasgow. As the plane landed I took a deep breath and tried to center myself and I tried to comfort myself as I gathered my carry-on suitcase and disembarked the plane. I kept his smile in the front of my mind and as I spied him across the airport, it was that smile that made me believe that my life was going in the right direction.

2

His body excited me. The touch of his skin made me feel grounded and made me feel safe. The first time we hugged I felt like I was coming home. The hustle and bustle of the airport faded into silence around me as I wrapped my arms around him, finally feeling his touch. We walked through the glass doors into the drizzly Scottish air and the smell of wet earth and asphalt filled my nose, a smell that would always stay with me. We spent the day wandering the city while he translated their thick Scottish accents and I tried to gain my footing, self-conscious of how American I was in this international city. As the sun set we walked hand in hand along cobblestone streets and down alleys. Street lights came on and we made our way up a narrow staircase to a small fish and chips restaurant and we plates of fish and chips on white tablecloths. Leaving the restaurant we stopped in the alley outside. The lights strung between the buildings twinkled above us and he took my face in his hands, kissing me. The kiss was warm and soft and full of passion and love. A kiss like no kiss I’d ever had before. The ride from Glasgow back to his home was filled with tentative kisses and impassioned touches. It wasn't long until our limbs intertwined and it felt like our souls did too.

His kiss gave me butterflies and the warmth of his hand in mine made me feel like I was where I had always belonged, even a thousand miles from everything and everyone I had ever known. Each night our bodies merged with passion and sweat and each day we spent our days together. We walked out our door to see the ocean and feel the surf being blowin inland to our door, the scent of grass and sea mixed with the rain falling on our faces. Love for him moved me to align myself with him, accepting solitude. I formed myself into his mold, becoming what he needed. I was his friend, confidante, caretaker, and lover. We spent every moment together, sharing each part of our lives together. Nights spent recovering from love that made the world fall away and days spent being tethered to life by his touch. We explored together, finding restaurants, watching movies and television, going to doctors, and spending nights at the local pub playing pool and drinking aftershock and cider. We made rare trips to town because we didn’t have a car and had to take the bus, but even with our lack of transportation I didn’t feel trapped, I felt loved and cared for. Every time we left the house, his hand was in mine and he kept me safe and warm, Even the sickly twist of his deformed limb was beautiful to me, a pink seam across the knob of his knee where the bone had snapped and underneath the shiny skin there was damage. He would lay his leg across my lap and I would run my fingers across the sensitive skin of his scar, hoping that the electricity that I felt pass between us at each touch would heal him from the inside out.

3

His voice broke me. I will kill them all he said when I begged for him to let me help us be better. You will never see your mother again. Each word a dagger into my mind, my heart. By the time his actions matched his words I was broken. A hand around my throat as he threw me across the room for saying he lied to me when he promised I would be happy. The echo of breaking glass as he slammed the door after forbidding me to leave the apartment. Words accusing me of being unfaithful even though I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone while not in his presence. You will let me read all of your emails to your parents he had told me, cutting me off completely. It wasn’t enough to isolate me physically, he had to isolate me completely. I don’t love you anymore was the last straw, and as he told me about all the times he cheated, of all the women he wanted more than me, my soul crumbled. I felt my knees go weak and I crumbled to the floor, everything in me broken.