26 days, 12 hours, 43 minutes after

brown human eye

A Memoir by Naana Eyikuma Hutchful

I look over at you in the corner, your eyes trained on mine, back straight as a board. Your rigid body is unfamiliar. I wish you’d do something, anything. I miss the fluidity of you, not the arms crossed tightly over your belly, eyes dark and empty, frozen in place. A perfectly sculpted statue, but still a statue. These days, I like you better with my eyes closed.  I can feel your breath, hot and quick on my cheek, the side of my neck. I can run my hands through your thick chestnut hair, braid it into a rope down your back. 

Nikki’s key turns in the lock. I jump out of bed and throw the duvet over the sheets as smoothly as I can. I run over to my desk, brushing against the switch to turn the lights on. I think I may have fooled her this time but I am still in my fluffy grey bear pajamas, my bonnet still on, dried white streaks down my cheeks. She doesn’t comment on it; at least I am trying at something.

Today, she brought mandarins. Two bags of them.

I am not feeling so well, I say. Migraine. 

Nikki walks me back to my bed. She pulls the covers up to my chin. 

I coo and moan and drag my knees to my chest. She goes into the kitchen to make me a lemon and ginger tea. 

Nikki is running out of take your times. 

She wants me up and out. She wants me to look at people again. 

I want to say yes, yes, yes. The way the light enters the green of her eyes, ring-scattered spots of yellow like gold gleaming. I capture every frame of it: the slight tilt of her brows, the lines in the corners of her eyes tightening, her lips splitting apart, first a crack, then wide open, her eyes begin to water, there’s a slow vibration to her hands, twisting around each other, unsure of what to do next.

I know you are not real; the sharp edges of you against the wall. But when I close my eyes you beg me not to leave you again.

Nikki looks right into the corner. It’s almost as if she can see you too.

                                                             *   *   *

Naana Eyikuma Hutchful (they/them) is a Ghanaian writer with work appearing in Pithead Chapel, Bending Genres, Gone Lawn, Maudlin House and forthcoming elsewhere. They like sunrises, yearning, and Wong Kar Wai films.

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