Shaman_Raman
03-23-2013, 05:08 PM
This came out longer than I was hoping for, so my apologies in advance.
If this is another damn dream, I’ll about die. Actually, a dream wouldn’t be that bad, I’ve learned to cope with that nightly routine, about three months back now. I wasn’t ready for her to show up at my door out of the blue, one year later. When I opened the door, electricity surged through my body, from my head hairs down to the toenails. She had to have noticed, I thought to myself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was just about convulsing at this point. The only other times I’m this shaky is after my second or third cup of coffee some mornings, but the eggs and toast help with that…I’m not sure how to get over this stimulant.
“Hi, there…” she says to me. One year…hi there?
“Hey, uh…” I can’t keep looking in those eyes, but I have to. Maybe I want too, I don’t really know right now. “What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“I don’t know, I just…” she hesitates, looking west to the sun set, a nervous smile sets on her face. “I hear you’re leaving, soon, right?” she asks, looking back to me.
“Yeah, I’m heading out Monday…I’ll probably stop once on the way, so maybe hit Seattle Thursday.” I reply, not really thinking about what I’m saying. I’ve thought about what to say to her for so long…so so long. I envisioned conversations, where they would go, what I would tell her if she were to ask. But reality always squashes fantasy, at least in my experience.
“Oh, okay…” she says. She still has on her nervous smile, the one I still remember. It was the same smile she showed when I found about about Cody, taking her outside to confront her on it. She looked out into the distance, smiling, infuriating me at the time. How could you be so insensitive? I wanted to ask her then. Is this a joke to you, or do you just not give a rat’s ***? I know now it was just her way of responding, it wasn’t meant to add light to the situation. I caught her, and she knew it, and her escape from the fear and anxiety of it all was smiling at the falling sun.
“Did you want to come in?” I finally ask her, figuring it rude to keep her out on my porch.
“Could we talk on the porch?” she asks back to me.
“Sure.”
We sit down, chatting for a little about tedious, small things: where you working now? How’s the family? Friends? You get around to doing this or that thing you wanted to do? Nothing I didn’t have to spend much time thinking about. Which was good, because for some reason my mind wasn’t functioning. All I could think about was the main big idea: why she came? And truth is, that’s all I was interested in talking about, none of the other bull.
A pause comes between the small talk, a silence we both hear all too well. She wouldn’t dive into it, of course not. I was always the more sensitive one, even being the guy. I would pry at her, and she’d open up to me. Never the other way around. What I opened up to her I did out of free will, or just a naďve feeling of trust that would prove me a fool. No more though. She came, she can speak. I haven’t intruded in on her life in the past year, I let her be with her new boyfriend, and new job, and new structure. I was gone, moving forward, involuntarily seeing her face in my dreams. Granted, the real thing is different. The biggest difference is I won’t have to wake up angry and tormented by something I never saw coming back.
We look at each other, she smiles, I politely smile back. What is she thinking? I want to ask so bad, but I can’t. All I can do is sit here, trying to control the convulsion.
“Well, I should probably get back to packing.” I lie. It was Saturday evening, all my packing was well done. I thought I’d spend the last two days enjoying the company of my friends. I stand up, hiding my impatience, doing a nervous smile of my own as I look out to God knows where, I’m not really paying attention.
“Wait…” she says. She stands up too. Here we go.
“What?” I ask her back.
“I, How, ugh.” She stumbles over her words.
“How what?”
“How did you do it? I need to know?”
“Do what?”
“Just walk away. Deleting your facebook, changing your number, never even trying to contact me?” she asks it all bluntly, her smile gone. I can see the tears developing in her eyes. Her hazel eyes. Emerald and gold swirling perfectly and beautifully in front of two brown canvas circles. I steal my fixed gaze away, trying not to get locked up in those eyes again.
“What else was I supposed to do?” I ask her. Really, what?
“I don’t know, I just…” she pauses, the tears break out, water falling from the golden earths.
“I don’t get it, okay? How you could not care? About seeing me, talking to me…you just disappeared.” I try my best to not look at her, but I can’t anymore. It’s all here now, the truth. A buried conversation, finally hitting the surface. I look into her eyes, her face. I’m tired of lying.
“I see your face every day.” I tell her. She looks back at me, puzzled.
“What?” she asks.
“I said, I see your face every day…it wakes me up some nights, other nights I shoot to another dream in enough time to stay asleep.” I could feel tears forming in my eyes too now. But that was a given, I was always the sensitive one, like I said. I was the one holding back tears during all the Romance films we went to see together, secretly enjoying every minute of them.
“Then why? Why didn’t you ever reach out? Talk to me, anything?” she pleas.
“Because…” I’m crying now. “It’s not going to change anything.”
“You said you forgave me.”
“I did.”
“No, your lying. If you really did, you wouldn’t have cut contact.” Very true.
“I have forgiven you, for all of it. But what else am I supposed to do? You have your new boyfriend, and from what I hear one you have a much greater connection with.”
“Who told you that?”
“Jen did.” A mutual friend between the two of us.
“That doesn’t mean I wanted you out of my life…”
“Stop it!” I shout, from somewhere.
“What?” she asks me.
“Just stop. Please.” I turn toward my door, heading inside. Back inside, a safe shelter to withdraw from the scarier parts of life.
“No, just talk to me!” she shouts back. I can’t take this. I’m still convulsing, but it’s mostly in my legs now. I don’t notice, but I fall on my knees, heavy from the weight. I feel arms wrap around to my chest, she’s hugging me from the back. I just keep looking down at the cement porch, getting stained by a flow of tears pouring from me. I feel her warm tears on my neck, soothing me in some spooky way.
“Just tell me the truth.” She speaks into my ear, a command. I can’t fight her anymore, I don’t want to anymore.
“I love you. I will always love you. I dream about you every night, and I try to drink you away time to time.” Everythings flowing: tears, words, even snots building up.
“Drink me away?” she asks, annoyed at my stupidity. I am stupid. But I don’t care, not really anymore.
“Yes…I just wanted to forget, all of it. I don’t want this pain anymore.”
“I am so sorry.” She says. And I believe her.
“It’s fine.” I reply through a weak voice.
“That’s why I cut contact. That’s why I’m moving away. I just want a new life, a new start.” I pull out of her hug, getting back to my feet. “Because what’s done is done.”
I turn around and look at her, she rises to her feet as well. We both just stare into each other for a few seconds, or maybe hours, I don’t know.
“I will always love you,…”she starts to say.
“I know, I know. And I’m sorry it has to be like this.” I tell her. I truly am. “But life doesn’t always map out how we’d intend it. But that’s part of the surprise, right?” I ask her, or maybe to myself. I open my door, hesitating before walking in. I look into the most beautiful eyes I’ll ever see, one last time.
“I will always wish you the best.” I tell her.
“Me too...” She says back to me. She runs up and wraps around me again, one last time I suppose. I hug her back, feeling more at home in her warmth. My convulsing stops, all is calm, peaceful. My right hand slides down her falling hair, my nose falls into a patch of it on her shoulder. God, do I miss that smell.
She walks off my porch and to her car, me watching her from the open door. The last time we were together, I drove off from her house, now it’s my turn to watch and wonder. Will I ever see her again? What now? Am I making a mistake? All the questions one could ask, developing in my thoughts.
Her car reverses out, and drives down the street, turning and suddenly it’s gone, just as swiftly as it arrived. I was wrong. I wish this was another tormenting dream, one I could wake up out of and eventually forget. But it’s not. It’s a dim, cruel reality of some poor sap, who let go of the one piece of his heart he never wanted to, no matter how damaging the piece was.
If this is another damn dream, I’ll about die. Actually, a dream wouldn’t be that bad, I’ve learned to cope with that nightly routine, about three months back now. I wasn’t ready for her to show up at my door out of the blue, one year later. When I opened the door, electricity surged through my body, from my head hairs down to the toenails. She had to have noticed, I thought to myself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was just about convulsing at this point. The only other times I’m this shaky is after my second or third cup of coffee some mornings, but the eggs and toast help with that…I’m not sure how to get over this stimulant.
“Hi, there…” she says to me. One year…hi there?
“Hey, uh…” I can’t keep looking in those eyes, but I have to. Maybe I want too, I don’t really know right now. “What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“I don’t know, I just…” she hesitates, looking west to the sun set, a nervous smile sets on her face. “I hear you’re leaving, soon, right?” she asks, looking back to me.
“Yeah, I’m heading out Monday…I’ll probably stop once on the way, so maybe hit Seattle Thursday.” I reply, not really thinking about what I’m saying. I’ve thought about what to say to her for so long…so so long. I envisioned conversations, where they would go, what I would tell her if she were to ask. But reality always squashes fantasy, at least in my experience.
“Oh, okay…” she says. She still has on her nervous smile, the one I still remember. It was the same smile she showed when I found about about Cody, taking her outside to confront her on it. She looked out into the distance, smiling, infuriating me at the time. How could you be so insensitive? I wanted to ask her then. Is this a joke to you, or do you just not give a rat’s ***? I know now it was just her way of responding, it wasn’t meant to add light to the situation. I caught her, and she knew it, and her escape from the fear and anxiety of it all was smiling at the falling sun.
“Did you want to come in?” I finally ask her, figuring it rude to keep her out on my porch.
“Could we talk on the porch?” she asks back to me.
“Sure.”
We sit down, chatting for a little about tedious, small things: where you working now? How’s the family? Friends? You get around to doing this or that thing you wanted to do? Nothing I didn’t have to spend much time thinking about. Which was good, because for some reason my mind wasn’t functioning. All I could think about was the main big idea: why she came? And truth is, that’s all I was interested in talking about, none of the other bull.
A pause comes between the small talk, a silence we both hear all too well. She wouldn’t dive into it, of course not. I was always the more sensitive one, even being the guy. I would pry at her, and she’d open up to me. Never the other way around. What I opened up to her I did out of free will, or just a naďve feeling of trust that would prove me a fool. No more though. She came, she can speak. I haven’t intruded in on her life in the past year, I let her be with her new boyfriend, and new job, and new structure. I was gone, moving forward, involuntarily seeing her face in my dreams. Granted, the real thing is different. The biggest difference is I won’t have to wake up angry and tormented by something I never saw coming back.
We look at each other, she smiles, I politely smile back. What is she thinking? I want to ask so bad, but I can’t. All I can do is sit here, trying to control the convulsion.
“Well, I should probably get back to packing.” I lie. It was Saturday evening, all my packing was well done. I thought I’d spend the last two days enjoying the company of my friends. I stand up, hiding my impatience, doing a nervous smile of my own as I look out to God knows where, I’m not really paying attention.
“Wait…” she says. She stands up too. Here we go.
“What?” I ask her back.
“I, How, ugh.” She stumbles over her words.
“How what?”
“How did you do it? I need to know?”
“Do what?”
“Just walk away. Deleting your facebook, changing your number, never even trying to contact me?” she asks it all bluntly, her smile gone. I can see the tears developing in her eyes. Her hazel eyes. Emerald and gold swirling perfectly and beautifully in front of two brown canvas circles. I steal my fixed gaze away, trying not to get locked up in those eyes again.
“What else was I supposed to do?” I ask her. Really, what?
“I don’t know, I just…” she pauses, the tears break out, water falling from the golden earths.
“I don’t get it, okay? How you could not care? About seeing me, talking to me…you just disappeared.” I try my best to not look at her, but I can’t anymore. It’s all here now, the truth. A buried conversation, finally hitting the surface. I look into her eyes, her face. I’m tired of lying.
“I see your face every day.” I tell her. She looks back at me, puzzled.
“What?” she asks.
“I said, I see your face every day…it wakes me up some nights, other nights I shoot to another dream in enough time to stay asleep.” I could feel tears forming in my eyes too now. But that was a given, I was always the sensitive one, like I said. I was the one holding back tears during all the Romance films we went to see together, secretly enjoying every minute of them.
“Then why? Why didn’t you ever reach out? Talk to me, anything?” she pleas.
“Because…” I’m crying now. “It’s not going to change anything.”
“You said you forgave me.”
“I did.”
“No, your lying. If you really did, you wouldn’t have cut contact.” Very true.
“I have forgiven you, for all of it. But what else am I supposed to do? You have your new boyfriend, and from what I hear one you have a much greater connection with.”
“Who told you that?”
“Jen did.” A mutual friend between the two of us.
“That doesn’t mean I wanted you out of my life…”
“Stop it!” I shout, from somewhere.
“What?” she asks me.
“Just stop. Please.” I turn toward my door, heading inside. Back inside, a safe shelter to withdraw from the scarier parts of life.
“No, just talk to me!” she shouts back. I can’t take this. I’m still convulsing, but it’s mostly in my legs now. I don’t notice, but I fall on my knees, heavy from the weight. I feel arms wrap around to my chest, she’s hugging me from the back. I just keep looking down at the cement porch, getting stained by a flow of tears pouring from me. I feel her warm tears on my neck, soothing me in some spooky way.
“Just tell me the truth.” She speaks into my ear, a command. I can’t fight her anymore, I don’t want to anymore.
“I love you. I will always love you. I dream about you every night, and I try to drink you away time to time.” Everythings flowing: tears, words, even snots building up.
“Drink me away?” she asks, annoyed at my stupidity. I am stupid. But I don’t care, not really anymore.
“Yes…I just wanted to forget, all of it. I don’t want this pain anymore.”
“I am so sorry.” She says. And I believe her.
“It’s fine.” I reply through a weak voice.
“That’s why I cut contact. That’s why I’m moving away. I just want a new life, a new start.” I pull out of her hug, getting back to my feet. “Because what’s done is done.”
I turn around and look at her, she rises to her feet as well. We both just stare into each other for a few seconds, or maybe hours, I don’t know.
“I will always love you,…”she starts to say.
“I know, I know. And I’m sorry it has to be like this.” I tell her. I truly am. “But life doesn’t always map out how we’d intend it. But that’s part of the surprise, right?” I ask her, or maybe to myself. I open my door, hesitating before walking in. I look into the most beautiful eyes I’ll ever see, one last time.
“I will always wish you the best.” I tell her.
“Me too...” She says back to me. She runs up and wraps around me again, one last time I suppose. I hug her back, feeling more at home in her warmth. My convulsing stops, all is calm, peaceful. My right hand slides down her falling hair, my nose falls into a patch of it on her shoulder. God, do I miss that smell.
She walks off my porch and to her car, me watching her from the open door. The last time we were together, I drove off from her house, now it’s my turn to watch and wonder. Will I ever see her again? What now? Am I making a mistake? All the questions one could ask, developing in my thoughts.
Her car reverses out, and drives down the street, turning and suddenly it’s gone, just as swiftly as it arrived. I was wrong. I wish this was another tormenting dream, one I could wake up out of and eventually forget. But it’s not. It’s a dim, cruel reality of some poor sap, who let go of the one piece of his heart he never wanted to, no matter how damaging the piece was.