Mirrored Existance
Dear poplovers,
I would have thought by now that things would have sorted themselves out. I thought that either my clever mind would figure out what exactly Daniel was up to or that he would do something that would settle things either way. But I feel like we are still just skimming the surface of what is really going on, with Daniel perfecting this new ability to push things to a certain point and then take a step back. The worst part is that he's still watching me, like he keeps expecting something to happen.
Yesterday, I walked into my bedroom only to find Daniel lurking by the headboard. Needless to say, I was startled by this unexpected sight enough that I froze in my tracks, still holding the belt I had intended to return to my closet. He was looking toward the bed and for a long moment my mind conjured up this insane idea that Daniel was seconds away from having his dirty way with me, and I wasn't sure whether the thought thrilled me or scared the shit out of me. But the bubble popped when Daniel instead reached out and picked up a picture frame I had sitting on my bedside table and I realized with some embarressment that it was actually a picture of the two of us from sometime in '96 when we had been doing promotion in Japan. Sony had thought it would be a great idea to document the journey of two brand-new popstars as they explored the world, but they had later abandonned the project when they figured out that pretty much all the footage was of me being a dork and goofing around in front of the camera, with Daniel rarely letting himself get in front of the lense. It was so typical of us that I couldn't resist framing one of the photos from that time where Daniel was actually in the frame, back when we were pushing our dreams without any baggage to drag us down.
Still, watching a smile slowly creep up on Daniel's face, I felt myself blushing and quickly retreating into the closet to put away my belt. When I reluctantly re-emerged, Daniel was still there but he'd put back down the photo frame and was standing by the curtained window, his arms crossing over his chest.
Normally I would have asked him something, like what he was looking for or wanted, just to fill the empty space because I always feel silences between us are not particuarly safe but the one thing I had learned from Daniel's stay is that it wouldn't make Daniel explain anything to me. I was reminded of a conversation that I'd had with Kathleen during her nearly-weekly phonecalls, which we both felt guilty about like we were doing behind Daniel's back but we had formed an odd but warm friendship based on mutual sympathy and an obsessive need to figure Daniel out, trading clues back and forth.
"Did Daniel talk more when you first met him?" Kathleen had asked.
"You know, I always thought so until I realized that most of the time, I was the one doing the talking and Daniel was just listening. He seemed content with things being that way, so it was easy to forget." I had replied, ruefully.
"So he never talked?"
"No, that's not true...." I had paused, trying to put things together. "He talked about music all the time, about guitars he liked and new keyboards he wanted to try or the mythical Perfect Studio that he hoped to put together someday. And he was certainly made himself heard about rehearsals and tour stuff." Kathleen had laughed.
"Yes, when he was building the studio, his brother used to joke that Daniel approached it with 'military precision'. So what did you talk about that Daniel prefered listening to over talking himself?"
A minute went by as I tried to tally it up, find any sort of pattern. When a trend made itself more clear, I was a little mortified. "Er, mostly me, I suppose."
So instead of saying anything, I sat myself on the edge of my bed and pulled my knee up between my palms. Daniel played with the gauzy window curtain for a few minutes, then turned in my direction. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but much softer than I was used to hearing.
"I used to think it was all the traveling that did it, that eventually all the jetlag and strange food and even stranger people took its toll. And I did feel better, for a bit, back in Brissie and with my folks and my dog. But then I went and somehow I'd broken up my own band without meaning to exactly and that didn't touch me either, so I thought maybe it was for the best because it should have touched me, right?"
Daniel's words kept me silent, trying to figure out what he was saying, trying to fill in the gaps he was leaving.
"But it didn't get better again. Not that my life didn't, not that I don't enjoy my life, but I can't control it."
"Control what?" I whispered, puzzled and a little frustrated. Daniel sat down on the bed, apart from me, leaning on palms.
"I'm not trying to do this on purpose. I just can't talk like you do."
"It's not hard, Dan. You just say it."
"But how do you know what its called? How do you know what feelings mean? Who taught you? Why can't I pick it up, no matter how much I listen to you, try to see how you do it?"
I almost had the shape of what Daniel was saying, but I couldn't believe what Daniel was indirectly suggesting. I thought having him talk would help but now I wasn't so sure. I almost would have prefered if he just tried to put the moves on me, because that was a lot simpler to deal with, really.
"Is that why you are here?" I was starting to feel a little hurt, at the suggestion I was being used for my tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve. Daniel, to his credit, looked unhappy but I wasn't sure whether he felt guilty or felt bad for opening his mouth at all. But if he was telling me the truth, his secretive nature was starting to make a weird sort of sense.
"I thought I owed it to Kat to try to sort this out, give her what she deserves."
"I'm just a means to an end, that right?" I couldn't help but feel bitter. Daniel's hand touched my shoulder and for a brief instance I thought about shrugging it off angrily. But his next words stopped me.
"No, I'm not a total tosser, I know what shrinks are for. But I didn't think it would hurt to be with the one person I had last felt right around."
I looked into his eyes, trying to tell whether he was buttering me up or not. But while Daniel tended to prefer blunt truth, he still told the truth and he was one of the few people who never stroked my ego when it didn't need prodding. The idea that I was stable ground for Daniel was a novel twist on what I considered to be the norm.
It still didn't explain the flirting, though. Maybe I was just making all that up in my head, misinterpretting, but they say three times is a conspiracy and we gone past three times a long while ago. There was something else about this that Daniel wasn't telling me, not yet.
-D
I would have thought by now that things would have sorted themselves out. I thought that either my clever mind would figure out what exactly Daniel was up to or that he would do something that would settle things either way. But I feel like we are still just skimming the surface of what is really going on, with Daniel perfecting this new ability to push things to a certain point and then take a step back. The worst part is that he's still watching me, like he keeps expecting something to happen.
Yesterday, I walked into my bedroom only to find Daniel lurking by the headboard. Needless to say, I was startled by this unexpected sight enough that I froze in my tracks, still holding the belt I had intended to return to my closet. He was looking toward the bed and for a long moment my mind conjured up this insane idea that Daniel was seconds away from having his dirty way with me, and I wasn't sure whether the thought thrilled me or scared the shit out of me. But the bubble popped when Daniel instead reached out and picked up a picture frame I had sitting on my bedside table and I realized with some embarressment that it was actually a picture of the two of us from sometime in '96 when we had been doing promotion in Japan. Sony had thought it would be a great idea to document the journey of two brand-new popstars as they explored the world, but they had later abandonned the project when they figured out that pretty much all the footage was of me being a dork and goofing around in front of the camera, with Daniel rarely letting himself get in front of the lense. It was so typical of us that I couldn't resist framing one of the photos from that time where Daniel was actually in the frame, back when we were pushing our dreams without any baggage to drag us down.
Still, watching a smile slowly creep up on Daniel's face, I felt myself blushing and quickly retreating into the closet to put away my belt. When I reluctantly re-emerged, Daniel was still there but he'd put back down the photo frame and was standing by the curtained window, his arms crossing over his chest.
Normally I would have asked him something, like what he was looking for or wanted, just to fill the empty space because I always feel silences between us are not particuarly safe but the one thing I had learned from Daniel's stay is that it wouldn't make Daniel explain anything to me. I was reminded of a conversation that I'd had with Kathleen during her nearly-weekly phonecalls, which we both felt guilty about like we were doing behind Daniel's back but we had formed an odd but warm friendship based on mutual sympathy and an obsessive need to figure Daniel out, trading clues back and forth.
"Did Daniel talk more when you first met him?" Kathleen had asked.
"You know, I always thought so until I realized that most of the time, I was the one doing the talking and Daniel was just listening. He seemed content with things being that way, so it was easy to forget." I had replied, ruefully.
"So he never talked?"
"No, that's not true...." I had paused, trying to put things together. "He talked about music all the time, about guitars he liked and new keyboards he wanted to try or the mythical Perfect Studio that he hoped to put together someday. And he was certainly made himself heard about rehearsals and tour stuff." Kathleen had laughed.
"Yes, when he was building the studio, his brother used to joke that Daniel approached it with 'military precision'. So what did you talk about that Daniel prefered listening to over talking himself?"
A minute went by as I tried to tally it up, find any sort of pattern. When a trend made itself more clear, I was a little mortified. "Er, mostly me, I suppose."
So instead of saying anything, I sat myself on the edge of my bed and pulled my knee up between my palms. Daniel played with the gauzy window curtain for a few minutes, then turned in my direction. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but much softer than I was used to hearing.
"I used to think it was all the traveling that did it, that eventually all the jetlag and strange food and even stranger people took its toll. And I did feel better, for a bit, back in Brissie and with my folks and my dog. But then I went and somehow I'd broken up my own band without meaning to exactly and that didn't touch me either, so I thought maybe it was for the best because it should have touched me, right?"
Daniel's words kept me silent, trying to figure out what he was saying, trying to fill in the gaps he was leaving.
"But it didn't get better again. Not that my life didn't, not that I don't enjoy my life, but I can't control it."
"Control what?" I whispered, puzzled and a little frustrated. Daniel sat down on the bed, apart from me, leaning on palms.
"I'm not trying to do this on purpose. I just can't talk like you do."
"It's not hard, Dan. You just say it."
"But how do you know what its called? How do you know what feelings mean? Who taught you? Why can't I pick it up, no matter how much I listen to you, try to see how you do it?"
I almost had the shape of what Daniel was saying, but I couldn't believe what Daniel was indirectly suggesting. I thought having him talk would help but now I wasn't so sure. I almost would have prefered if he just tried to put the moves on me, because that was a lot simpler to deal with, really.
"Is that why you are here?" I was starting to feel a little hurt, at the suggestion I was being used for my tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve. Daniel, to his credit, looked unhappy but I wasn't sure whether he felt guilty or felt bad for opening his mouth at all. But if he was telling me the truth, his secretive nature was starting to make a weird sort of sense.
"I thought I owed it to Kat to try to sort this out, give her what she deserves."
"I'm just a means to an end, that right?" I couldn't help but feel bitter. Daniel's hand touched my shoulder and for a brief instance I thought about shrugging it off angrily. But his next words stopped me.
"No, I'm not a total tosser, I know what shrinks are for. But I didn't think it would hurt to be with the one person I had last felt right around."
I looked into his eyes, trying to tell whether he was buttering me up or not. But while Daniel tended to prefer blunt truth, he still told the truth and he was one of the few people who never stroked my ego when it didn't need prodding. The idea that I was stable ground for Daniel was a novel twist on what I considered to be the norm.
It still didn't explain the flirting, though. Maybe I was just making all that up in my head, misinterpretting, but they say three times is a conspiracy and we gone past three times a long while ago. There was something else about this that Daniel wasn't telling me, not yet.
-D