"Laughter"
I found this little ficlet I wrote about two years ago on CD in my computer desk. I always liked it, so I thought I'd share.
*~*~*~*~*
Sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away, but I’ve never been good at that. Fight until the very end, stubborn to a fault, that’s me. It’s both a curse and a blessing.
Snow’s falling around me now, melting on my cheeks, sticking to my coat. It was light only ten minutes ago, but now it’s falling more and more steadily…maybe it’s a sign that I’m supposed to leave now. Nature’s way of telling me “Okay, you’ve had your time, let’s get a move on.” But I’m not ready to leave. I’m not sure I ever will be.
It’s pretty here. Quiet. Not too many people around, but I’m guessing not many people come to places like this in the dead of winter. But I have to. It’s like a calling…something that will make me unable to move on until I’ve done it. An immobilizer.
She’s down there somewhere. Six feet under or whatever. It’s probably colder in the ground, don’t you think? Colder than up here, I mean, even with the snow and wind.
There’s a stuffed dog sitting on top of her stone. It’s got long, shaggy ears and a red tongue sticking out. It’s so out of place here, I can’t stand it.
“I’m mad at you,” I whisper, but my words catch on the wind making them so soft I’m not even really sure I said them.
“I’m mad at you and you’re not here for me to yell at. You’re not here for me to fight with, to argue with. How am I supposed to win this one if you won’t yell back? How do I know it’s over if there’s no big scene at the end where I lose my stack and you end up laughing…which gets me laughing…and then it’s over. How do I know it’s over if that doesn’t happen?”
I stare at the granite in front of me. It’s cold too…the color…gray. That’s a cold color…appropriate, I guess, for the surroundings it sits in. The letters etched in it…her name…they barely scratch the surface of the stone that marks her.
“That’s how it was,” I tell her. “You’d get me so mad…I’d start shouting and pretty soon I’d stumble over my words and you’d laugh. And that would piss me off more…but then I’d start laughing too. And then we’d hug and you’d pull my hair, I’d bop you on the nose, and it was over.”
How am I supposed to make this right? We didn’t get to that part…to the laughing part. It’s incomplete and it’s wrong and I can’t make it right.
“You were wrong this time, I’ll have you know,” I tell her, wrapping my scarf around my neck to prevent the snowflakes from sliding down my sweater. “This time it really was your fault. The one time I can actually say that…that you were in the wrong, and I had total gloating rights, and look what you do…”
You up and die on me.
Part of me thinks she did this on purpose, that insane part of myself that refuses to deal with this. That part says she looked for that icy patch of road because she knew I was right and she was wrong and that I’d hold this over her head forever.
But even if I was right, that wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t want to argue and yell…and laugh at the end. The laughing was the best part.
The laughing might have been why we fought so feverishly in the first place. Just to get to that point.
The wind whips up suddenly and the dog falls off onto the ground. It must have one of those voice boxes in it that’s activated by motion because as it smacks onto the ground it says “Have a dig-doggity day!” It’s so absurd I burst out laughing and the shock of the sound echoes in my head.
Laughing.
She wins again.
*~*~*~*~*
Sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away, but I’ve never been good at that. Fight until the very end, stubborn to a fault, that’s me. It’s both a curse and a blessing.
Snow’s falling around me now, melting on my cheeks, sticking to my coat. It was light only ten minutes ago, but now it’s falling more and more steadily…maybe it’s a sign that I’m supposed to leave now. Nature’s way of telling me “Okay, you’ve had your time, let’s get a move on.” But I’m not ready to leave. I’m not sure I ever will be.
It’s pretty here. Quiet. Not too many people around, but I’m guessing not many people come to places like this in the dead of winter. But I have to. It’s like a calling…something that will make me unable to move on until I’ve done it. An immobilizer.
She’s down there somewhere. Six feet under or whatever. It’s probably colder in the ground, don’t you think? Colder than up here, I mean, even with the snow and wind.
There’s a stuffed dog sitting on top of her stone. It’s got long, shaggy ears and a red tongue sticking out. It’s so out of place here, I can’t stand it.
“I’m mad at you,” I whisper, but my words catch on the wind making them so soft I’m not even really sure I said them.
“I’m mad at you and you’re not here for me to yell at. You’re not here for me to fight with, to argue with. How am I supposed to win this one if you won’t yell back? How do I know it’s over if there’s no big scene at the end where I lose my stack and you end up laughing…which gets me laughing…and then it’s over. How do I know it’s over if that doesn’t happen?”
I stare at the granite in front of me. It’s cold too…the color…gray. That’s a cold color…appropriate, I guess, for the surroundings it sits in. The letters etched in it…her name…they barely scratch the surface of the stone that marks her.
“That’s how it was,” I tell her. “You’d get me so mad…I’d start shouting and pretty soon I’d stumble over my words and you’d laugh. And that would piss me off more…but then I’d start laughing too. And then we’d hug and you’d pull my hair, I’d bop you on the nose, and it was over.”
How am I supposed to make this right? We didn’t get to that part…to the laughing part. It’s incomplete and it’s wrong and I can’t make it right.
“You were wrong this time, I’ll have you know,” I tell her, wrapping my scarf around my neck to prevent the snowflakes from sliding down my sweater. “This time it really was your fault. The one time I can actually say that…that you were in the wrong, and I had total gloating rights, and look what you do…”
You up and die on me.
Part of me thinks she did this on purpose, that insane part of myself that refuses to deal with this. That part says she looked for that icy patch of road because she knew I was right and she was wrong and that I’d hold this over her head forever.
But even if I was right, that wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t want to argue and yell…and laugh at the end. The laughing was the best part.
The laughing might have been why we fought so feverishly in the first place. Just to get to that point.
The wind whips up suddenly and the dog falls off onto the ground. It must have one of those voice boxes in it that’s activated by motion because as it smacks onto the ground it says “Have a dig-doggity day!” It’s so absurd I burst out laughing and the shock of the sound echoes in my head.
Laughing.
She wins again.