Not Fade Away: A Memoir of Senses Lost and Found by Rebecca Alexander, Sascha Alper Page B
Authors: Rebecca Alexander, Sascha Alper
Ads: Link
a clear bid for their attention. I soon realized that he wasn’t who I had first pegged him to be.
Funny and often sweet, with an offbeat sense of humor that matched mine, he was the most hilarious person I knew. Cody was tall and fit, with beautiful hazel green eyes and an adorable smile. It never occurred to me to hide my disabilities from him,either. It just didn’t matter to him. When I got my first hearing aid I refused to wear it and would only grudgingly agree to put it on during AP history, where our teacher was a low-talking mumbler whom everybody had difficulty understanding. I would slip it into my ear, making sure that it was carefully covered by my hair, and take it out the moment class was over. I wasn’t embarrassed in front of Cody, though, and later, when my hearing loss had progressed, he was the one who encouraged me to wear my hearing aids. I didn’t realize that I could come off as rude, as though I was ignoring people when I just couldn’t hear them. Cody told me this, without judgment, and could even joke with me about it.
He was also my first real love. We waited a long time to have sex—seven months, which felt like forever as teenagers—but by the time we did, we knew each other’s bodies so well, and were so comfortable with one another, that it felt completely natural. I learned with him where I liked to be touched gently and where I preferred the feeling of firm hands on my body. Feeling the brief wisps of air that passed over us as we moved together reminded me of how freeing it felt to be exposed. Cody’s warm breath against my ear, down my neck, to my collarbone as his hand rested on my bare hip sent a tingling sensation throughout my body. This was possible because nothing between us was forced—my trust in him invited his touch. I felt so safe with my body in his hands and protected by how close his skin was to mine.
I learned so much about myself through physical touch. With him, I developed trust and confidence in my own body, and I learned to trust someone else with my body as well. I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to explore and be explored. This was my first true experience with intimacy that came from deep within me—a time when the strength of my relationship to someoneemotionally enabled me to understand the vital connection between trust and touch.
• • • •
I remember one night when Cody and I were lying in his room, and the only light coming in was from the streetlamp through his window. I could see his silhouette, lying next to me as he traced my face with his fingertips, and then, when he stood up I saw his shadow on the floor, outlined by the moonlight. I remember being surprised that I could see it at all and feeling so lucky that I could. Kids are so fascinated by their shadows. How they lengthen and shorten, and how when they’re long they can look almost as tall as their parents. I knew already that shadows were something that would be completely gonesoon.
15
W hen I landed it felt like an explosion. I don’t remember the pain, just trying to rasp out a yell, but all that came out was the faint cry of a wounded animal.
I had gotten drunk enough that night that Cody was angry with me. It was one of our last hurrahs the summer after high school, and everyone was psyched to be out, the night full of promise and nostalgia. We were all headed off to college in the fall. Daniel and I were going to the University of Michigan together, and I couldn’t wait to be with him after four years at separate schools. Cody and I knew that we didn’t have much more time together, which made him even more pissed that I had ruined the night. Dancing was one of our favorite things to do, and we were going to a hip-hop club. Cody was a great dancer, and there was nothing as fun for the two of us as being on the dance floor together.
• • • •
I love to have a good time. I’m prone to laughing at inappropriate times and swearing too much, and I have absolutely
Funny and often sweet, with an offbeat sense of humor that matched mine, he was the most hilarious person I knew. Cody was tall and fit, with beautiful hazel green eyes and an adorable smile. It never occurred to me to hide my disabilities from him,either. It just didn’t matter to him. When I got my first hearing aid I refused to wear it and would only grudgingly agree to put it on during AP history, where our teacher was a low-talking mumbler whom everybody had difficulty understanding. I would slip it into my ear, making sure that it was carefully covered by my hair, and take it out the moment class was over. I wasn’t embarrassed in front of Cody, though, and later, when my hearing loss had progressed, he was the one who encouraged me to wear my hearing aids. I didn’t realize that I could come off as rude, as though I was ignoring people when I just couldn’t hear them. Cody told me this, without judgment, and could even joke with me about it.
He was also my first real love. We waited a long time to have sex—seven months, which felt like forever as teenagers—but by the time we did, we knew each other’s bodies so well, and were so comfortable with one another, that it felt completely natural. I learned with him where I liked to be touched gently and where I preferred the feeling of firm hands on my body. Feeling the brief wisps of air that passed over us as we moved together reminded me of how freeing it felt to be exposed. Cody’s warm breath against my ear, down my neck, to my collarbone as his hand rested on my bare hip sent a tingling sensation throughout my body. This was possible because nothing between us was forced—my trust in him invited his touch. I felt so safe with my body in his hands and protected by how close his skin was to mine.
I learned so much about myself through physical touch. With him, I developed trust and confidence in my own body, and I learned to trust someone else with my body as well. I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to explore and be explored. This was my first true experience with intimacy that came from deep within me—a time when the strength of my relationship to someoneemotionally enabled me to understand the vital connection between trust and touch.
• • • •
I remember one night when Cody and I were lying in his room, and the only light coming in was from the streetlamp through his window. I could see his silhouette, lying next to me as he traced my face with his fingertips, and then, when he stood up I saw his shadow on the floor, outlined by the moonlight. I remember being surprised that I could see it at all and feeling so lucky that I could. Kids are so fascinated by their shadows. How they lengthen and shorten, and how when they’re long they can look almost as tall as their parents. I knew already that shadows were something that would be completely gonesoon.
15
W hen I landed it felt like an explosion. I don’t remember the pain, just trying to rasp out a yell, but all that came out was the faint cry of a wounded animal.
I had gotten drunk enough that night that Cody was angry with me. It was one of our last hurrahs the summer after high school, and everyone was psyched to be out, the night full of promise and nostalgia. We were all headed off to college in the fall. Daniel and I were going to the University of Michigan together, and I couldn’t wait to be with him after four years at separate schools. Cody and I knew that we didn’t have much more time together, which made him even more pissed that I had ruined the night. Dancing was one of our favorite things to do, and we were going to a hip-hop club. Cody was a great dancer, and there was nothing as fun for the two of us as being on the dance floor together.
• • • •
I love to have a good time. I’m prone to laughing at inappropriate times and swearing too much, and I have absolutely
Similar Books
