Hugs

Week 5: Written February 2, 2016

“Do you want a hug?”

“No.”

“Come on. Who doesn’t want a hug? You look like someone who could use a hug.”

The room was crowded, but there was an opening in the middle, a fifteen-foot wide circle, where people were watching. Watching him, waiting to see what he would do.

So far, he was resisting.

“I don’t want a hug,” he said, almost yelling it. But the crowd didn’t react at all, and Gregor just continued to stand with his arms wide open. Smiling.

“You don’t even have to hug me back. This is a gift, from me to you. That’s what we do here. We’re not takers, we’re givers.”

Mat couldn’t tell if Gregor was being sarcastic or not, couldn’t tell if he intended the double-meaning or not. Either way, it didn’t ease Mat’s mind in the least. He kept asking himself the same question: what exactly are you giving?

The crowd got restless after a while, their blank faces showing their impatience and their suspicions.

“Hug him or leave,” someone cried out.

“You can join us or not,” someone else said. “This is a community, not a charity.”

Mat couldn’t really argue, and he hung his head, realizing that he really only had two options: take his chances in here, or take his chances out there.

It should’ve been an easy decision, but he couldn’t stop the debate going on between his brain and his heart.

These are survivors, heart said with each beat. They’re what’s left, all that’s left, brought together by a combination of luck and will. And bound together by a sense of family and love.

But, brain countered, their greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. And what they see as a symbol of trust and togetherness, I see for what it is and what it’s truly capable of.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows in the gloomy hall. Mat looked out half-heartedly, hoping everything up until that point had been a dream and soon he’d see the familiar trail of automobile brake lights approaching the intersection of 1st and Main. But all he saw was darkness, a darkness that was far more inviting than the truth. He never went out in the daylight, too tired of the corpses.

“We don’t want you to leave,” Gregor said, still offering up his embrace. “But if you’re going to stay, you need to show us you’re clean.”

But how do I know you’re clean, Mat thought.

Then he stepped forward and opened his arms. He took Gregor’s invitation, hugged him like everyone else had done before, hugged him warmly and tightly. And with that, he was left to wonder whether he’d contracted a loving family or a deadly virus.