Isabela Part 4

I lay Júlia down on my bed, on my pillow, almost pressed against the wall, because I'm afraid the child will wake up. Ana leans over and puts a pacifier attached to a cloth in her mouth. When she steps back, my friend gazes at the graffiti on the wall, observing every detail.
“Do you think his sister knows you’re studying here?”
“She must know, since Cris told me there are rumors around campus that something’s going on between us. However, I haven’t had the displeasure of running into Bianca yet.”
“He’s the one who made this graffiti. It says Nate right there...”
Ana points with her index finger to the top right corner of the wall. She doesn’t seem to be ashamed of her broken hand anymore. She had an accident in the past and ended up with a deformed right hand, and she used to hide it so no one would see. Now she seems to handle it better, and today, she hasn’t tried to hide her injured hand at all. That makes me proud!
I focus on what Ana said. Jesus! How oblivious am I? I didn’t even see his damn name in the art, even though, since the day he was here in my room, I had already put the pieces together that the art was his. So many things would have made sense if I had noticed that signature before.
When I think of the details of the Night of the Big Bad Wolf, I always remember being somewhat drunk. It was all very dark; even his room seemed immersed in shadow. Maybe, in the daylight, I would have recognized that bastard, and a good dose of poison running through my veins would have been avoided. At least his smile, well-lit, would have been impossible not to recognize.
“Are you taking any medication?”
Here we go! I roll my eyes, even though a cold sweat runs through me, with memories of his touch, his kiss, the perfect cock that Nate put in my face. And what the hell! The truth is that I would have given so much to him that day if he had wanted to sleep with me. But that’s in the past. It’s not going to happen again! Now, he’s the one who will feel his skin boiling; Nate is the one who will feel like he’s burning, just like Ana said. I’m the one who’s going to take that bastard down!
“Oh, come on! I’m not giving it to him, and certainly not without a condom. Taking medication is admitting weakness or accepting the idea of yielding, of surrendering a battle to him.”
“I’m going to slap you three times!” she scolds, crossing her arms and staring at me. “Admitting weakness is getting pregnant by Nate.”
“Girl...” I exhale, shrugging my shoulders, feeling affected by the caution Ana is rubbing in my face. I finish the contents of my beer can, watching Harry take a selfie on his phone, clearly trying to ignore the embarrassing part of my conversation with Ana. “Okay, I’ll take it. But I don’t even know how to do that.”
“You should go to a gynecologist, Isa. But if you don’t want to, I’ll explain how to take the pill. I won’t even tell you to use a condom because I know that in moments like this, with all those pent-up feelings, it’s hard to remember.”
I decide to ignore the jab about “pent-up feelings,” reflecting only on going to a doctor. It’s been years since I put this off. I know I’m over twenty, that I should have gone and checked things “down there” a long time ago, but...
“How, Ana? How do I go to a gynecologist? I can’t do it. I’ll be lying there, exposed to a stranger who’s going to have to touch me all over to examine me. My traumas always trigger panic attacks when I think about it.”
“What if I stay there? Hold your hand?” she offers, smiling kindly. “It’s good to get a check-up, tests to see if everything’s ‘okay’ in your uterus, and to take the right medication he’ll give you.”
Now my eyes spark because it hurts every time I think that I can’t do something because of Afefobia, this trauma of being touched. Because I’m messed up, imperfect. I look up, press my lips together, and scream at my thoughts.
No! I’m not going to break! I’m going to fight against this! I need to at least take the risk.
“We can try. Can you make an appointment with your doctor for me?” I ask, then feel something cold in my chest, and I know it’s fear. Just imagining the moment already starts to make anxiety take over me. “You’ll be there, by my side, and you won’t let go of my hand!”
“Of course! I’ll have to see your ‘little lady,’ right... But what wouldn’t I do for you?” She seems relieved as she looks at me. “And since you said you wouldn’t let go of hands, don’t you ever push me away again! I felt that distance in the last few days, and I didn’t like it. I’m always here, Isabela! I’m yours! Your sister, your friend, your little shit. Yours, to listen to you, give you advice, be a shoulder for you to cry on, or a weapon for you to use. I could easily hit Nate in the face, or hold his sister so you can finally slap her.”
“I know how to defend myself, girl!” I warn, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you so much, so much. Forgive me... for everything.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Are you ever going to stop apologizing?” She squeezes me, and I blink to hold back the emotion. But it’s impossible because every time I think about what we are and what we almost lost, I get so happy to have her back that I become emotional.
It’s amazing how my heart aches from how much I care about this girl. How hugging her makes me feel so safe, so loved. Why did I do wrong things to us in the past? How could I lose her?
“You two are mushy...” Harry mocks, as we hear him firing the flash on his camera. “Capturing this moment for Instagram of the two drama queens!”
I listen to him spelling out the caption for the post while I share a conspiratorial smile with Ana.
“Watching Mexican soap opera from the VIP seats...”
“Oh, I almost forgot. There’s a wedding rehearsal next week, huh!” Ana shouts, doing it so enthusiastically, jumping up and down, with her boobs bouncing, that Júlia whimpers as she wakes up.