little angsty story
got bored wrote this.
thanks to katie for proof reading it parts of it.
“I found him again.”
“Found who?” I had to ask; of course I knew who it was. It’s always the same person when she says it in that nervous way that shimmers with glee and regret.
“You know who! Don’t act coy.”
“Oh right, of course. Him. So when are you going to call him?” Again, I already knew the answer but it had to be played out, this is her burden; the one that comes up so rarely and so privately, I had to remember that and try to keep to it this time. I first found out about him when I had to drive her to the hospital in a horrible New York winter. The ash laden snow had threatened to choke out the whole city. She woke me up pukeing blood, at first I thought it from the alcohol and drugs earlier in the night; and then I noticed her holding a picture of him, of them together. She said it was the only one that had ever taken together, and now it was stained and scarred with blood and bile. She also clinched his phone number and address. They were the same this time as they had been the last three.
“Pfft, I can’t call him. You know that. He hates me.” This was the start of it. Each time she does this I try to convince her to call him. If she would actually read and understand the care that was in the last two letters he had sent her years ago. She was too frightened to respond to them. The fact that she could find someone that meant more to her then just a lay or some mind game completely disconcerted her. The fact that she could trust someone, love them, and have a family with them caused her to instead run and hide, never to call again.
“You know I don’t believe that. So… give me the update then. Is he married? Children?” Her face glowed in fragile shades of light of a setting sun. The short lacy and macramé curtains billowed out, their wooden and sea shell bobbles rattled together like a soothsayer’s casting bones, it hid her for a moment. In that flash of natural misdirection, I caught a glimpse of my ex in her; I missed him so much back then.
Her voice matched the frail light as if speaking any louder could cause it to shatter. “No. He… he hasn’t. He… He finished his engineering license thought.” She looked at me with a misty pride and picked her voice up. “I’m sure he got a promotion and is doing very well now.”
“Good for him. Do you think he is moving up here like he hinted at? Or is he still married to the “horrible” town as you put it?” The thought hadn’t a crossed her mind yet or maybe she had forgotten she had shared that little tidbit. Her eyes were dulled as is if the shadows finally answered all the questions she whispered to them on those lonely nights.
“No. I… I don’t know. I…”
“You should call him.” I watch her eyes searching through the shade. Then she found it…
“What the fuck is this?” …her torch, her fire, to send those shadows away. “I can’t fucking believe this; you left the fucking milk out again!” I almost smiled as she pushed past me into the kitchen.
“You know. I think I might of.” The cycle was progressing. I didn’t need casting bones to tell me how the night would play out. Now that she had her anger she would take it out on me, drawing me into her private hell, as she had each time since our hospital trip. Soon enough she’ll be making me cry, using words and reminding me of events she knew would cut. Then she’ll beg for forgiveness. That is when she always tried to fuck me.
She is the only woman I ever have or ever would fuck. I think she took as much pride in that as I did.
“Seriously how fucking hard is it to put up the god damn milk?”
“We know from the past just how much you love spoiled milk.”
“The Trip…” She stood their half lost in the glow of the pharmacy white light of the ice box. Then she smiled; maybe this time would be different.
“The Trip” I replied. Those were when our golden days had ended.
thanks to katie for proof reading it parts of it.
“I found him again.”
“Found who?” I had to ask; of course I knew who it was. It’s always the same person when she says it in that nervous way that shimmers with glee and regret.
“You know who! Don’t act coy.”
“Oh right, of course. Him. So when are you going to call him?” Again, I already knew the answer but it had to be played out, this is her burden; the one that comes up so rarely and so privately, I had to remember that and try to keep to it this time. I first found out about him when I had to drive her to the hospital in a horrible New York winter. The ash laden snow had threatened to choke out the whole city. She woke me up pukeing blood, at first I thought it from the alcohol and drugs earlier in the night; and then I noticed her holding a picture of him, of them together. She said it was the only one that had ever taken together, and now it was stained and scarred with blood and bile. She also clinched his phone number and address. They were the same this time as they had been the last three.
“Pfft, I can’t call him. You know that. He hates me.” This was the start of it. Each time she does this I try to convince her to call him. If she would actually read and understand the care that was in the last two letters he had sent her years ago. She was too frightened to respond to them. The fact that she could find someone that meant more to her then just a lay or some mind game completely disconcerted her. The fact that she could trust someone, love them, and have a family with them caused her to instead run and hide, never to call again.
“You know I don’t believe that. So… give me the update then. Is he married? Children?” Her face glowed in fragile shades of light of a setting sun. The short lacy and macramé curtains billowed out, their wooden and sea shell bobbles rattled together like a soothsayer’s casting bones, it hid her for a moment. In that flash of natural misdirection, I caught a glimpse of my ex in her; I missed him so much back then.
Her voice matched the frail light as if speaking any louder could cause it to shatter. “No. He… he hasn’t. He… He finished his engineering license thought.” She looked at me with a misty pride and picked her voice up. “I’m sure he got a promotion and is doing very well now.”
“Good for him. Do you think he is moving up here like he hinted at? Or is he still married to the “horrible” town as you put it?” The thought hadn’t a crossed her mind yet or maybe she had forgotten she had shared that little tidbit. Her eyes were dulled as is if the shadows finally answered all the questions she whispered to them on those lonely nights.
“No. I… I don’t know. I…”
“You should call him.” I watch her eyes searching through the shade. Then she found it…
“What the fuck is this?” …her torch, her fire, to send those shadows away. “I can’t fucking believe this; you left the fucking milk out again!” I almost smiled as she pushed past me into the kitchen.
“You know. I think I might of.” The cycle was progressing. I didn’t need casting bones to tell me how the night would play out. Now that she had her anger she would take it out on me, drawing me into her private hell, as she had each time since our hospital trip. Soon enough she’ll be making me cry, using words and reminding me of events she knew would cut. Then she’ll beg for forgiveness. That is when she always tried to fuck me.
She is the only woman I ever have or ever would fuck. I think she took as much pride in that as I did.
“Seriously how fucking hard is it to put up the god damn milk?”
“We know from the past just how much you love spoiled milk.”
“The Trip…” She stood their half lost in the glow of the pharmacy white light of the ice box. Then she smiled; maybe this time would be different.
“The Trip” I replied. Those were when our golden days had ended.