it's summer, i have no papers to write, no chinese characters to memorize, no theories to analyze -- so i write.
i left it unfinished, i guess because i really couldn't find the right way to end it, and partly because, in some strange way, i feel as if there is no sufficient ending.
***************
I desperately dug into my purse searching for something that could be a distraction. Don’t I always carry gum? My cell phone? Did I leave that in the car? I fumbled around with my keys for a bit, ran my fingers across the leather of my wallet. Coins? What would I be doing with coins?
He spoke softly, hesitating, “Do you need something?”
I shook my head quickly and kept my eyes away from his. One look, once glace up, I knew the tears were going to fall. I settled for the cigarettes, I knew he hated them, but who was he to judge me. I flipped open my zippo, lit a cigarette and continued to stare away.
A double martini would do the trick.
“I didn’t … look, I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I just … thought you should be the first to know. C’mon, we could tell each other everything. It’s been awhile…” he trailed off.
I puffed at the cigarette, not caring I was blowing smoke directly towards him. I recalled the days he’d lecture me, the moment I hugged him and threw my remaining cigarettes into the toilet, the smile stretched on his face when I told him I’d quit.
Does it ever get easier? For all these weeks when he’d call, tell me about some hot girl he met at some dinner, the cute bartender that gave him a free drink, the blond with whom he went on one date with – was I pretending? Did my heart stop the moment he started talking about another girl only to shut out the feelings of heartache, jealousy, and rage? It never seemed to matter. His tone of voice didn’t change when his voice was on the other line. He still spoke in a husky whisper before bidding me goodnight, sweet dreams, I love you sweetie.
He had it easy. He had his boyish good looks, his well-defined muscles, his charisma, his deep brown eyes and the way they’d penetrate the darkest interiors of the soul. He made everyone feel special with his easy-going nature. I knew he could turn heads and that was part of his appeal – I had the man everyone wanted, fantasized about. He was mine, he loved me, he fucked me, he wined and dined me, bought me diamonds, un-broke my heart.
There was silence. I pulled out another cigarette.
“Hey…”, he started. I looked at him, the anger, hurt in my eyes. He blinked, “Can you not smoke another? When did you start again anyway?”
I wanted to tear his head off, put out my cigarette on his perfectly sculpted lips. “When you fucking broke my heart.”
“It’s not like that and you know it.”
“Then what was it like?”
“You didn’t want me. You pushed me away. All last year, do you remember? You were fast forwarding through your life, you complained I was too stagnant, you wanted to see the world, you thought I was holding you back, you wanted to get away, far, far away, into a small little haven where I did not belong. Don’t you fucking remember that?”
I did. I remembered. “I never told you to leave. I still loved you. So much. I wanted you away, yes, but I couldn’t get you away. You were too big a part of my life and I realized that I needed you in it. I wanted you – you to be a part of all my dreams, endeavors, and even my mistakes. But the moment I realized that – is the moment you pulled away – the moment y-o-u pulled away, do you fucking remember that?”
We both sat back in our chairs, watching the cars pass by on Melrose. I remembered all the times we’d come here – for an afternoon tea, for chai lattes, for their delicious argula salad topped with fresh pears. We were never angry here, we were never fighting – we laughed as the sun set, kissed each other under the morning breeze, snuggled up close to one another under the heat lamps at night.
Maybe I could never have him back, but I could have this. I could have our memories, our reveries in this café, the hopes I used to have, and the dreams he used to give me. My memories of yesterday for the pain of today. I wasn’t ready. Could I ever be? I sure as hell hope so.
i left it unfinished, i guess because i really couldn't find the right way to end it, and partly because, in some strange way, i feel as if there is no sufficient ending.
***************
I desperately dug into my purse searching for something that could be a distraction. Don’t I always carry gum? My cell phone? Did I leave that in the car? I fumbled around with my keys for a bit, ran my fingers across the leather of my wallet. Coins? What would I be doing with coins?
He spoke softly, hesitating, “Do you need something?”
I shook my head quickly and kept my eyes away from his. One look, once glace up, I knew the tears were going to fall. I settled for the cigarettes, I knew he hated them, but who was he to judge me. I flipped open my zippo, lit a cigarette and continued to stare away.
A double martini would do the trick.
“I didn’t … look, I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I just … thought you should be the first to know. C’mon, we could tell each other everything. It’s been awhile…” he trailed off.
I puffed at the cigarette, not caring I was blowing smoke directly towards him. I recalled the days he’d lecture me, the moment I hugged him and threw my remaining cigarettes into the toilet, the smile stretched on his face when I told him I’d quit.
Does it ever get easier? For all these weeks when he’d call, tell me about some hot girl he met at some dinner, the cute bartender that gave him a free drink, the blond with whom he went on one date with – was I pretending? Did my heart stop the moment he started talking about another girl only to shut out the feelings of heartache, jealousy, and rage? It never seemed to matter. His tone of voice didn’t change when his voice was on the other line. He still spoke in a husky whisper before bidding me goodnight, sweet dreams, I love you sweetie.
He had it easy. He had his boyish good looks, his well-defined muscles, his charisma, his deep brown eyes and the way they’d penetrate the darkest interiors of the soul. He made everyone feel special with his easy-going nature. I knew he could turn heads and that was part of his appeal – I had the man everyone wanted, fantasized about. He was mine, he loved me, he fucked me, he wined and dined me, bought me diamonds, un-broke my heart.
There was silence. I pulled out another cigarette.
“Hey…”, he started. I looked at him, the anger, hurt in my eyes. He blinked, “Can you not smoke another? When did you start again anyway?”
I wanted to tear his head off, put out my cigarette on his perfectly sculpted lips. “When you fucking broke my heart.”
“It’s not like that and you know it.”
“Then what was it like?”
“You didn’t want me. You pushed me away. All last year, do you remember? You were fast forwarding through your life, you complained I was too stagnant, you wanted to see the world, you thought I was holding you back, you wanted to get away, far, far away, into a small little haven where I did not belong. Don’t you fucking remember that?”
I did. I remembered. “I never told you to leave. I still loved you. So much. I wanted you away, yes, but I couldn’t get you away. You were too big a part of my life and I realized that I needed you in it. I wanted you – you to be a part of all my dreams, endeavors, and even my mistakes. But the moment I realized that – is the moment you pulled away – the moment y-o-u pulled away, do you fucking remember that?”
We both sat back in our chairs, watching the cars pass by on Melrose. I remembered all the times we’d come here – for an afternoon tea, for chai lattes, for their delicious argula salad topped with fresh pears. We were never angry here, we were never fighting – we laughed as the sun set, kissed each other under the morning breeze, snuggled up close to one another under the heat lamps at night.
Maybe I could never have him back, but I could have this. I could have our memories, our reveries in this café, the hopes I used to have, and the dreams he used to give me. My memories of yesterday for the pain of today. I wasn’t ready. Could I ever be? I sure as hell hope so.
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