Alien Ava

After what seems like hours my side of the room is completely the way I like it, my blue shaded comforter is all on the bed, my paper cranes are hanging from the ceiling, and my artwork is on the walls. I’m putting my clothes away when a petite brunette comes into my room and eyes me suspiciously. “I’m Ava, you must be my new roommate?” She says this as I stand up and hold my hand out, “Violet, seventeen years old, addicted to sex,” I say. Ava just stands there gawking at me like I am some kind of freak.”Well what’s your “condition,” I ask. “ I have Alien Hand Syndrome,” she says in a tiny voice. “ What in the hell is that?” I say. “It’s where my hands have minds of their own, my right is stronger than my left. I’ve knocked cans at the grocery store off of shelves without having any control over it; I’ve pick pocketed people without them having any idea and then I would have to track them down so I could give back their wallets and explain to them about it. My life has been one big annoyance to the point where I cannot even sleep without my hands doing their own thing.”

“I’m sorry, have you ever thought about keeping them occupied so that they can not cause mischief?” I say to her. “Well you see, I love art but I cannot get my hands to hold a paintbrush or anything for that matter.” Ava says this as she examines Violet’s artwork hanging from the wall.”Dude, these are f*****g amazing!” You need to show these in a gallery seriously.””Thanks but I don’t let anyone see my work it’s too personal.” “ That’s why they are so good dude.” “Here what about this if I can successfully learn how to control my hands you will display your art, no exceptions.” Ava says as she flops onto her bed.

I ponder her offer for a moment and then decide to give it a shot. Besides what could I loose? There is no way that the boy staring at me in the courtyard was Amos.  “ So have you ever been successful in keeping your hands occupied?” I ask Ava as I watch her take in my art. “ Well…. I have seen twenty- five specialist within my seventeen years of being on this plant for these hands. Every single one of the specialist would prescribe me a dozen pills to take and send me on my way.” She says this as she examines a painting of Amos.

In the painting Amos is looking at me with those gorgeous eyes and his hand is outstretched just like in all of my dreams. These dreams have haunted me since I realized I was addicted to sex. He is always trying to have me take his hand and follow him into the great unknown. The farthest I ever have gotten in the dream is when I take Amos’s hand, after that I wake up in a cold sweat thoroughly shaken.

“Earth to Violet, “ Ava says. I can tell I spaced out, this happens everytime I think of Amos. At that moment the lights started to flicker rapidly. I jump on my bed, “What is that?” I say to Ava softly. “That’s just Liam,” she says unphased. “Okay, and what exactly is his condition?” I ask. Ava then briefs me on this Liam guy. Liam is twenty and has Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity, EHS for short. He is pretty cocky and guarded but closely resembles a Greek God. Tall, dark hair, and perfect blue eyes, Ava’s exact words.  “But he is also completely off limits,” Ava says breaking me out of my reverie. “Well, my heart is set on one man so it doesn’t matter anyways.” I retort, “The guy in the paintings yea?” Ava says, I just nod not really knowing what to say. I always have thought that I was good at hiding my feelings for Amos.

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Nights are the longest for me. They drag on in a constant blur of darkness. All I can think of is Amos and if he is thinking of me at the same time. It’s his voice that haunts me the most, deep and husky. Wrapping me in a warm blanket fresh out of the drier. He was not only a comfort for me but my best friend, we told each other everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly or so the saying goes. I trusted him with everything that made me a person and just like that he was gone. No call, no letter, nothing. The nights drag on the most because that was when we were most active. We were creatures on the night. Who can argue with that? Darkness does not bother those when you are accustomed to the shelter that the darkness offers. Amos was everything that I needed him to be, he was kind, selfless, smart, and so much more.

The talks that we had are the type of talks that every person on Earth should share with another person. We talked of our hopes: me being a famous artist and him finding the cure for AIDS. We talked of our past: how his father walked out and how my parents can never accept me for me. We covered every subject and at the same no subjects at all, we connected and not on any other level than companionship. But then he had to pour his feelings into our conversation one night and that’s when everything went dark. He talked of me moving with him across country and starting over. He would say to hell with what anyone thought, to hell with society and its standards, to hell with everyone except him and I.