"Free" Hugs

The warm feeling you get while putting on a coat in the morning felt even better in this new world. The recent takeover lead to changes that were “voted” in by the people almost as easily as the regime took power. Physical contact seemed like something you would be able to take for granted. We are reminded everyday how wrong we were. Getting married ended with fingers being pressed on a similar ink pad then placed on the wedding certificate, long gone are the veil rises and long embraces. Sleeping is more reminiscent of the first shows on TV than anything you probably remember. Porn consists of people high-fiving, holding hands, or even hugging. Nudity is no longer taboo or looked down upon. With the elimination of physical contact, who cares if you are naked, can’t do anything with it anyway.

I wasn’t alive when people were still allowed to touch each other so I have never known anything different. My parents often reminisce of the days of old, from across the room. They remember when you didn’t have to go to an alleyway for a hug, or pay for a kiss, or hideout when you wanted to be with somebody. They remember the days when flirting involved grabbing of arms and a slow caress on another’s back. They remember coming home and getting a foot rub from each other when one of them had a particularly rough day. They remember being in love.

I always wondered what someone’s lips felt like. They all look so different, like face fingerprints. Each shaped a bit differently, some plump, so crooked, some hardly even showing. One day my thoughts ran away from me, staring at a girl in one of my classes. Her lips were absolutely incredible, I thought anyway. Plump, red but not too red kinda pink, curling ever so slightly upwards. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I tried talking to her a few times but we were usually in different lanes while walking across campus. One day at lunch that changed.

She was sitting alone at a booth. I decided that was my chance. I grabbed my food, pushed my chest out, shoulders back, seeming as confident as I ever have been but really I was just giving the butterflies in my stomach more room to roam. I asked if it was alright if I sat across the booth from her, she agreed. It was the most awkward moment of my life. Sitting across from the girl I had quietly admired for the last semester. Finally alone, finally able to talk to her. She kept looking up at me and looking away after we met eyes. She liked me. “So, peas huh?” What the fuck was I thinking, peas, why not just babble about something different, anything. Nice weather we’re having. What classes do you have left? Boy that professor of ours sure is tough? No, I look right at her, in those beautiful almond colored eyes, and what comes out? Peas. I felt the redness reaching my nose and cheeks, she must have noticed because she gave me a smirk.

“Yeah, they’re my favorite.” It was love, I just knew it.

A few weeks later we had started going out. I took her to a movie, walked around town, and went to some nice restaurants. The usual lineup of first date ideas and questions followed. Then one night we had a crazy idea. Someone told us about a club that you could go to and get away from government agents and troops. Some even said they had beds; you could sleep on, together. We had gotten to a point where we both were feeling different about our relationship. We couldn’t explain it but it felt like we should go to the club.

Friday night after class we decided to go to the club. It looked like a normal bar when we walked inside. A bartender wiping down the table. A few older guys sitting in the corner watching baseball, yelling about an umpire. It looked very unassuming, and definitely didn’t have any beds. We were told not to judge the place by how it looked but by its great selection of beers. Someone strongly recommended getting a particular beer that we proceeded to order. The bartender looked at us and asked cash or card. We were told cash is the only way to go here, so we answered and the bartender looked around before motioning us to the side of the bar. The corner we stood in seemed to have no lights around it and a solid wall behind us. The bartender gave us a wink and as he did the wall behind us moved.

We found ourselves in a well-lit, carpeted hallway. A receptionist at one end, mirror at the other. We approached the desk and were greeted by the soft voice of the woman behind the desk. She smiled and looked at us. “Hello, would you two like a room?” We weren’t sure how to answer, as we weren’t sure what to do once we got the room.

“Yes, we would like a room.” I answered with the same fake confidence that allowed me to say peas a few weeks earlier. We were escorted to one of the many doors, which opened to a single bed, fireplace, music player, and hot tub. The bed was the most luxurious thing I had ever laid eyes on. Draped in fine linens, not touching any of the walls, it served as a great centerpiece for the room.

We sat on the edge of the bed, still gazing at our surroundings. I got up to put on some music and returned, closer this time, and set next to her. Her pinkie reached over for my thumb and we found ourselves in violation. It felt warm and soft, her pinkie slowly moving on my thumb, feeling every crease, gliding over the whole hand now she interlaced hers with mine. It was a feeling I never wanted to end. She looked over at me, staring straight into my eyes. I moved her hair from her face with my hand. Her lips seem to curl even further tonight. I slowly leaned in, and met her lips with mine. Energy pulsed through me that I had never felt before. It was like love was surging through every nerve and coursed through every vein in my body. I slowly moved away from her only to return almost instantly. It was a night and feeling I would never forget.

We would return to that club every week for the next few months. Making sure not to be noticed or to tell anyone we didn’t trust. Then one Monday morning she didn’t show up to class. She didn’t return my calls or texts, didn’t come to class again on Wednesday. I started to worry so I walked towards her apartment. It was dark and quiet. Her balcony, usually full of plants and chairs was instead empty. I walked up the stairs to her apartment and knocked on her door. No one answered. I tried her phone again and heard it ring from outside the door. Worried, I knocked again, louder, calling her name. Again, nothing except what sounded like something dropping to the floor. I called her phone again, but this time nothing. I kicked the door handle hoping to either wake her up or scare whoever had her. This time a noise returned from inside, a sharp scream. I kicked through the door and found a government trooper holding her by her hair and dragging her out of her room. He stared at me spat at the ground and walked out of the room. She was dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. I rushed to her side; she turned away from me crying telling me not to look. I told her to just show me so I could try and help. She rolled towards me. Her lips were no longer curled or pink, they had been burned, a common punishment for people caught making contact with others. She held her hand over her mouth and said she was sorry. I knew it was my fault, for ever talking to her or bringing her to the club or going back as often as we had. I wanted to tell her all this and that we will be alright and I was sorry, but at that moment all I could do is hug her.

I’m not telling you this story to give you hope, or a plan for stopping this from happening. Think of it more as a reminder that every embrace is special. Remember them while you can.