(no subject)
I wrote this little short story at work yesterday. I took a couple beautiful lines from my friends who inspire me. Sansfocus and numskull_jon. I hope they dont mind.
His eyes have this glare that I guess only lingers in your twenties and I guess I noticed the first time he grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and he looked at me and it felt like my soul had transcended to my knees and I kept falling down on them. We spent that whole summer together, drinking rose wine under shady trees and smoking. Something about him was strong and safe and his arms reminded me of my fathers, like they would never let you go. On the 4th of July, it poured all day and night, dampening all the fireworks across the land. He wanted to go out in it and catch the rain itself. I could smell the dampness on his sleeves, the wetness clinging to our knees. We sat in that rain for hours. After we would always retreat to the attic, the smell of old albums, with those creaking spines was always there to greet us. We lit big candles mostly but in the summer we would soak cigars in sun warmed wine and play cards. When I was with him my heart rate was always faster. He brought fever and delight. He brought madness. Together we wished for the sky to fall and in the end it finally did and whenever he spoke I could hear the years leaning on his voice and it made me think of gravel tumbling through soft leaf litter. He was always talking about his plans to jump ship and head for faraway shores. There are moments in life. They come upon you and they gather with their little fists pressing into the crown of your brow and you can never be fully prepared no matter how hard you try.
It was Halloween by the time my moment came. Life certainly can change on a dime. The orange moon cast ringlets on the evening haze as ash from the fires dusted the midnight blue of my ford falcon. We climbed in; I gripped the leather of the wheel and turned us in the direction of Joeys place. Joey’s house was small and black, a little black box. He also was a chain smoker. Me and Chris drove in silence. The radio in my falcon broke two years ago when he tried to take it apart just to put it back together even though he claimed it was to “bump up the bass.” I felt sky, openness and free floating. I couldn’t help but think this night was going to be the same as all the rest. And tomorrow would be the same as all of the past tomorrows. The sunrise would crawl over our spinning globe and the slow turn and the slow burn would continue as the minutes reluctantly ticked forward. But I was wrong.
We pulled up to the house, it was not even 9 pm and a clown was puking outside. “We didn’t wear costumes,” Chris looked at me when he said it. I shrugged and got out. Walking up his walkway I could hear my sneakers sticking to the concrete from spilled liquid and dried dirt. The front door was barely hanging on and his walls were filthy, the carpet was worse. Chris went right to the keg while I just stared at all the people sitting every which way; most of them had masks on. A gorilla approached me and gave me a hug. “Dallas! Glad you guys came, welcome to my house. You didn’t wear a costume though.” He sounded disappointed. “I know I’m sorry buddy, I’m broke.” He shrugged it off and guided me into the room. It was full of people I knew but didn’t like. I remember the night like a cloudy fog, new memories always springing forth with different clarity and confusion. I remember Joey putting something on my tongue. I remember telling everyone goodnight! I remember watching Chris drink and then drink more and then drink more. I remember holding the keys away from him as he tried to climb in the driver’s seat. I remember him whispering things lovers say to their lovers and I remembering laughing and throwing the keys onto the grass and climbing on top of him and knowing that at least for tonight he was mine. After, he picked up the keys and I let him. Out of every image of that night, I will never forget him bending over for the keys and what the grass looked like after he grabbed them, how the dew flicked off, how it smelled of wet grass in the car after. I also remember crashing metal and flying glass and his hands, reaching out for me, still. And then, the silence, how loud it was. I remember the warm blood making me feel very cold. The sirens sucking me back into reality. My head was throbbing, my eyes hurt, the black of the pupil trying to see in the scant light, stretched wide and tall in what had become a long and multilayered night. I remember seeing him unconscious, and the way his beautiful face looked with all that glass in it. I divided my thinking into spoonfuls and I swallowed each one as I paced the corners of my mind. I found his hand. In the end, I agreed with my promptings, that the bulk of me was built for this. In the months that came I find myself playing that glare over and over in my mind, that glare he used to have in his eyes and that I guess only lingers in your twenties and that keeps pulling me down to my knees.
His eyes have this glare that I guess only lingers in your twenties and I guess I noticed the first time he grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and he looked at me and it felt like my soul had transcended to my knees and I kept falling down on them. We spent that whole summer together, drinking rose wine under shady trees and smoking. Something about him was strong and safe and his arms reminded me of my fathers, like they would never let you go. On the 4th of July, it poured all day and night, dampening all the fireworks across the land. He wanted to go out in it and catch the rain itself. I could smell the dampness on his sleeves, the wetness clinging to our knees. We sat in that rain for hours. After we would always retreat to the attic, the smell of old albums, with those creaking spines was always there to greet us. We lit big candles mostly but in the summer we would soak cigars in sun warmed wine and play cards. When I was with him my heart rate was always faster. He brought fever and delight. He brought madness. Together we wished for the sky to fall and in the end it finally did and whenever he spoke I could hear the years leaning on his voice and it made me think of gravel tumbling through soft leaf litter. He was always talking about his plans to jump ship and head for faraway shores. There are moments in life. They come upon you and they gather with their little fists pressing into the crown of your brow and you can never be fully prepared no matter how hard you try.
It was Halloween by the time my moment came. Life certainly can change on a dime. The orange moon cast ringlets on the evening haze as ash from the fires dusted the midnight blue of my ford falcon. We climbed in; I gripped the leather of the wheel and turned us in the direction of Joeys place. Joey’s house was small and black, a little black box. He also was a chain smoker. Me and Chris drove in silence. The radio in my falcon broke two years ago when he tried to take it apart just to put it back together even though he claimed it was to “bump up the bass.” I felt sky, openness and free floating. I couldn’t help but think this night was going to be the same as all the rest. And tomorrow would be the same as all of the past tomorrows. The sunrise would crawl over our spinning globe and the slow turn and the slow burn would continue as the minutes reluctantly ticked forward. But I was wrong.
We pulled up to the house, it was not even 9 pm and a clown was puking outside. “We didn’t wear costumes,” Chris looked at me when he said it. I shrugged and got out. Walking up his walkway I could hear my sneakers sticking to the concrete from spilled liquid and dried dirt. The front door was barely hanging on and his walls were filthy, the carpet was worse. Chris went right to the keg while I just stared at all the people sitting every which way; most of them had masks on. A gorilla approached me and gave me a hug. “Dallas! Glad you guys came, welcome to my house. You didn’t wear a costume though.” He sounded disappointed. “I know I’m sorry buddy, I’m broke.” He shrugged it off and guided me into the room. It was full of people I knew but didn’t like. I remember the night like a cloudy fog, new memories always springing forth with different clarity and confusion. I remember Joey putting something on my tongue. I remember telling everyone goodnight! I remember watching Chris drink and then drink more and then drink more. I remember holding the keys away from him as he tried to climb in the driver’s seat. I remember him whispering things lovers say to their lovers and I remembering laughing and throwing the keys onto the grass and climbing on top of him and knowing that at least for tonight he was mine. After, he picked up the keys and I let him. Out of every image of that night, I will never forget him bending over for the keys and what the grass looked like after he grabbed them, how the dew flicked off, how it smelled of wet grass in the car after. I also remember crashing metal and flying glass and his hands, reaching out for me, still. And then, the silence, how loud it was. I remember the warm blood making me feel very cold. The sirens sucking me back into reality. My head was throbbing, my eyes hurt, the black of the pupil trying to see in the scant light, stretched wide and tall in what had become a long and multilayered night. I remember seeing him unconscious, and the way his beautiful face looked with all that glass in it. I divided my thinking into spoonfuls and I swallowed each one as I paced the corners of my mind. I found his hand. In the end, I agreed with my promptings, that the bulk of me was built for this. In the months that came I find myself playing that glare over and over in my mind, that glare he used to have in his eyes and that I guess only lingers in your twenties and that keeps pulling me down to my knees.