kevinchn
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Everything posted by kevinchn
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Thank you! That was the key message that I wanted to share in this story. I'm so glad you understood it
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The late afternoon sun beams through the massive glass walls, revealing the floating dust. Rows of white lights hang on the high ceilings as if the day wasn’t bright enough. I blink my eyes several times to clear my vision and look around. Huge interior, domed like a spacecraft, crowds of people dragging luggage of all sizes. A sign that read Gates 1-10. A bright billboard that screams, ‘Lose twenty pounds in two weeks’, on it portrays a very happy-looking woman with a pencil-thin waist. Gre
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The autumn wind sends ripples over the alpine lake, distorting the dark reflections of the surrounding mountains. Behind us, the tent entrance flaps like the migrating birds above, trees swaying to the whistling gust. We huddle close to the fire as the sun retreats below the horizon, leaving behind a trail of subdued amber in the darkening skies. “Are you still cold?” Samuel puts an arm over my shoulders and rubs my sides. I didn’t realize I was shivering. “Not anymore.” I smile. After Cheye
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The air is unusually dense and humid, as if Cheyenne had been awash in a shower that soaked up the arid lands. With dusk hardly an hour away, the lampposts along the highway glisten through dense halos, while the occasional truck stops and motels seem doused in glimmering colors to entice the weary travelers. Moisture hangs on our cheeks and foreheads. The car’s air conditioning is spoiled. I want to run my hands over his stubbly jaws. I can’t wait to get to our uncle’s ranch and shower and thr
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The night gets colder in Eden as the fire flickers. There aren’t many dried twigs and branches left to feed the dying flames. We huddle up close, spooning each other for warmth instead. I think about what he had said earlier, about us having to end things here when it is clear that there is no way for us to live together. Perhaps he wants to spare me the pain of longing and wondering when the next time we will meet or live together again. Or maybe he is trying to find a merciful way to end thin
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I would’ve imagined our first time to be more passionate and romantic considering how completely smitten I am and how my body betrays me whenever he’s near. But life is very different when you come closer, just like the earth, which seems round when it’s remote and distant but all flat and uneven once it’s underneath your feet. Or like printed photos: you see pixels instead of people when you look really close. Making love is nothing like what I expected. Maybe it’s because we get distracted e
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- 15
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Ever since my brother came home this summer, I’ve become more interested in the outside world. Dad says I don’t stare into space blankly as much, and my face is more expressive when I talk. I feel there are more things to write in my journal. The drive to understand how I feel becomes more compelling and clear: I’m hoping to find some insights to deal with everything that is going on in my life. My fear that our escapade in Eden was only a childhood interlude, a visiting phantom, was unfounded.
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I was born into this world twice: first by my Mom, then by my brother. At two, my parents realized something was wrong with me. I hadn’t learned to talk yet. My earliest memories, though fuzzy and confusing, were not about words. I vaguely had the impression, instead, that I was in a kaleidoscopic dream, full of colors, movements and sounds. Contorting faces and moving bodies were no different from the rotating blades of a fan or the hanging toy above my crib. The outside world didn’t make sen
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Mom likes chocolate cakes. I inherited my sweet tooth from her. She calls it bad eating habits, because sweet things spoil your teeth, make you fat and give you cancer and diabetes. So I’m only allowed to have one sweet food per day. My choice is a hot-chocolate drink with marshmallows. Occasionally, I get Jell-O for dessert as a treat for good behavior. Otherwise, Mom cooks us healthful meals, like steamed organic vegetables in exotic world-cuisine flavors. We’ll have things like spelt pappar
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- 15
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Every day, I wake up at five-thirty. Run at six. Parkour at seven. Swim at eight. I do them on school days, on holidays, on Christmas and Thanksgiving, no matter what time I go to sleep the night before. These routines started two years ago, and I do them even if I fall sick. The only TV or movies I watch are the zombie and alien flicks that Samuel and I watch together. People always die in these movies because they can’t run fast enough. Or they get cornered by zombies. And they obviously
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- 13
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Finally, the secret is out of my body. I hold his note close to me that night, reading and rereading his words until I fall asleep. He is sorry. And he prefers my kiss than my withdrawal. I smile. That means he is not going to hate me. I sigh. It is a huge relief that I don’t have to hide myself anymore. Now that I have gone past the fear, the embarrassment is quickly catching up. While I should be grateful that he doesn’t hate me, I dread all the jokes he might [or ‘will’?] crack at my
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Thanks for the reviews. I must say your observations are very astute and you're right on many tracks. I italicized some actual speeches to indicate the disconnection he feels, perhaps it's poorly executed. I'll work on that the next time. Thanks again:)
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When you speak with your gestures, you leave no room for doubts. Unlike with words, it is very difficult to lie with your body. That’s why when we talk, Samuel’s face is animated, like how one speaks to a child. He uses big gestures to express himself so that I can follow his face easily. I would imagine my clumsy kiss was a pretty big gesture that leaves no room for misinterpretation. The fact that Samuel and my uncle laughed has puzzled me. Shouldn’t they be upset that I’ve crossed the line?
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- 12
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I shouldn’t be looking at him this way. I wake up and see him from our shared balcony. Rippling arms spring him out of the pool. Evening sun casts a golden glow upon his skin. Water drips as he emerges, from his broad hairy chest to his sculpted narrow waist before sliding over the tip of his wiggling bulge. I look away only to turn back and steal another glance. “Babe!” A thick arm waves at me from the sun deck below. He catches me staring at him drying himself with the towel. No point hid
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- 14
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It was a mistake on my part to think that the little reconnection at the garage had rekindled our old fellowship. No sooner than the next day, it crushed me to realize that I am still a mere peasant in his eyes. “Where is Samuel?” I ask Mom over breakfast in the most casual way. “Where is Samuel?” She repeats, rolling her eyes with a snort. “Do you have an appointment? If not, join in the queue like everyone else.” Should I text him for an appointment, then? Mom looks at me strangely. Then I
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