02. Cosmos
Leah feels her body falling, a sharp jolt shoots her into a piercing consciousness.
She sits up, the sweat on her chest leaves her feeling smothered. Wide-eyed in the dark, stifling, room. Samia’s soft, rhythmic, breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan lull her back to reality.
It had been so cool in the room when they’d gone to bed. Their sun-soaked heads and raw limbs had tiredly washed the sand and surf off before slipping under the cold sheets. Filled up on sandwiches, chips, and sparkling water, they drifted into a peaceful sleep with the intention of figuring out dinner later. Now, it was 2 in the morning and Leah is sitting up and alert in the darkness. Her only comfort is her damp and worn t-shirt.
The thin cotton smells of sunscreen and saltwater, filling her with a feeling she’d forgotten. She lies back down, softly kicking the thin sheets off of herself and rolling to face Samia.
She listens to the long draw of her breathing, watching the outline of Samia’s shoulders rise and fall. Leah inches closer, desperately wishing she were cool enough to be wrapping her arms around the dip of Samia’s waist. It’s a place she knows well, another comfort she comes to crave on nights when she wakes with a start.
Samia’s thick black waves spill towards Leah across the silk pillowcase, she softly brushes them up so they’re raised above the pillow. Her beloved, defiant, girlfriend refuses to wrap her hair when she sleeps.
As the gentle sounds of the night linger, Leah moves her attention to the darkest part of the room. The corner with the wicker chair, draped in clothes. She lets her eyes lose focus and the soft outline she could see of the chair blurs. Small specks of red float into her view, like static. She remembers this exact view from her childhood.
She would wake up from a nightmare and crawl into her parent's bed, watching the cosmos unfold before her as she tried to match her father’s breathing pattern. It was always impossible. Her little lungs couldn’t keep up with the long pace of his breaths. Some nights, she would just pretend to have a nightmare, so as to see the static once more. It had bewitched her to see the hazy swirl of tiny dots dance across her blurred vision.
A chill runs through her at the memory of running to her parents, it feels alien now. Samia softly stirs as Leah pulls the thin sheet back over her legs. She draws herself closer to Samia, gently draping her arm over the waist. Samia silently pulls Leah’s hand to her chest, holding it in the same tender position she always does when she’s sleepily coaxing her back to sleep.
Leah closes her eyes, burrowing her face into Samia’s back and takes long, slow breaths. This has become her home, her safest place, her most important space. The cosmos that swirls in her vision softens behind closed eyes. Flashes of light, their day, and her father’s aging and hostile face blur together as Leah finally begins to drift back to sleep.
