Endlessly -5-
"Dom, one more thing. I found an ad in the paper for a roommate to share a two-bedroom flat. I think I'm going to take it."
I stared at him in disbelief. I had just recovered him from the beach the day before. His eyes were glowing as he smiled from ear to ear.
"Why are you so happy?"
I asked him with such bluntness yet the smile hadn't come off. In fact, he began to giggle. I'd thought he was cursed and couldn't live without me. Was he taking me for a fool?
I pressed him for an answer.
"Well. . .?"
"I-you'll see in a couple of days."
My anger must have been apparent because he began to suppress his smile and looked at me shyly as if he had done some good deed. Somehow, my hostility against him faded. I had to therefore consciously maintain my angered face, if just to unsettle him. He had been too happy and confident that morning. But isn't that what I wanted? Hadn't I asked him to open up?
That same afternoon I helped him pack. Throughout the entire time, he wore a satisfied, almost pleased expression. I, on the other hand, had a mind filled with worrisome thoughts.
"Are you sure you can pay for it? I mean, you don't have a job. . ."
"Actually, I have some savings."
"But it can't last forever. You should probably reconsider."
"You'd be surprised. It's not as little as you might think."
"How about this person? Do you know him? What if he's some sexual deviant?"
He threw his head back and laughed.
"No, I don't know him, but I think I'll take my chances."
I don't think I'd ever seen him so alive and content as I did then, except for when I read him a poem. Or when I told him we were friends. And the time I made a comment about his name being cute. Or. . .or when. . .when we were together at the beach.
I didn't want him to leave. That is why I had looked for him like mad, so I could take care of him. And now. . .after all. . .he, he wanted to leave. I had just been making up excuses all morning, to try to keep him. I stopped folding his clothes as I spaced out. Matthew began to waves his hands before me, but I ignored him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but nothing came out. Instead, I stared at him like an idiot mannequin, with my mouth open as he looked at me behind the frame of the door.
"Bye, Dom," he said, with a smile. "I'll catch you around."
Once the door closed, I awoke. All I could feel was angst.
"How. . .How dare you? You ran in front of my car, causing me to almost run you over. Then I took you home and let you sleep in my bed. Naked. As if that weren' enough, I had to endure your presence even when I knew you were thinking about me. I saved you when you tried to kill yourself. I cheered you up, I read you my poems. And I hugged you when you cried. And I licked your wounds. . .and you didn't even bake me a fucking cake?
I. . .I miss you already. Come. . .come back."
I threw my head back and my knees gave away. As I fell, I felt tears pouring down my cheeks. I didn't undestand any of this. All I knew was that I'd never felt more miserable in my life.
And that I was sick. Sick of caring so much. I put my hand against my chest. It didn't stop the pain.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One more day, I thought. One more meaningless day. I drew an 'X' over the day of April 6. It had been two weeks that I'd known him. And only a day since he'd left. Yet I already sported the darkest and largest bags under my eyes I'd ever see in anyone. I couldn't write. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't do anything. I was obligated to sit down in front of the window. I hated windows. But this one in particular I couldn't stand. I hated how it had watched the events of the past two weeks pasively. Why hadn't it come to life and warned me? That window had known how it would end.
I picked up an ash tray and flung it at the window. And then I ran down the street to the flower shop. I threw a rock at that window. He had seen it too. And so had the flowers. They had to be destroyed as well. Stop. Someone stop this man. Stop him. He broke my window and now he's tearing my roses. Call the police.
I'd lost my mind. I was conscious of it; I didn't want to stop it. It was the only way I could cope with my loss.
But even so, I knew I need to get away. An alley invited me inside. I took her invitation and ran though her. Just as I got inside the door of my building, I came across the smell of roses.
"Bells. . .?"
I didn't need to see to know it was him. His scent made me shudder and brought me back to sanity.
"What is this, a game? One moment you're here, the next you're gone and then you're back again! Why can't you make up your fucking mind already?!"
"Dom. . .I live next door to you."
"What?! Oh, for the love of Christ. . .why didn't you tell me?"
I began to laugh hysterically, both from relief and because I thought I was going insane again.
"Because I wanted to surprise you."
Surprise me. He had wanted to surprise me. And surprise me he had. Normally, an incredible urge to suffocate the person would overcome me, but instead. . .instead I heard music. Soft tinkling music of a piano. And flowers. I saw flowers with butterflies stopping to drink their nectar. The pain returned to my chest, but it was different this time. I liked it.
"So which bedroom do you want, Matt?"
The voice came from the flat next to mine.
"Is that your roommate," I asked.
"Yeah. Come, I want you to meet him. He's an artist. I think you'll like him."
I had seen him before, but for one reason or another I'd never really looked at him. His appearance absorbed you. Short blond hair, tall, thin. He wore a long black shirt, which was open, that moved with the breeze to expose his perfect body. The face of a dream; soft, pale, impeccable.
"It's fine. I've seen him before."
"You've seen him before. But do you know his name?"
I opened my mouth to utter a word, but the truth was, I didn't know his name. The shame I felt had been too obvious.
"Dom, this is Alex. Alex, this is Dominic, the friend I told you about. . ."
So now I was 'Dominic.' The familiarity in which they looked and spoke to each other made me uncomfortable.
". . .but I like to call him the Beautiful Man."
Matt giggled while he. . .he smiled adoringly at Matt. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. But he was beautiful. I just wished and thought that in Matthew's eyes, I would prove to be the better one. I suppose I had been wrong.
"I should get going. Now that you're gone, I can go back to doing what I've always enjoyed: writing. Cheers."
"I'm glad you can finally go back to your old lifestyle."
His comment was honest. There wasn't a sadness to it. Instead, he sounded very satisfied. I turned my back on them as I walked towards my door. There was no room for me in their world.
As I reached into my pocket for the key, I felt something soft and dry. It was a rose. A little brown, wilted rose. She smelled like heaven.
I stared at him in disbelief. I had just recovered him from the beach the day before. His eyes were glowing as he smiled from ear to ear.
"Why are you so happy?"
I asked him with such bluntness yet the smile hadn't come off. In fact, he began to giggle. I'd thought he was cursed and couldn't live without me. Was he taking me for a fool?
I pressed him for an answer.
"Well. . .?"
"I-you'll see in a couple of days."
My anger must have been apparent because he began to suppress his smile and looked at me shyly as if he had done some good deed. Somehow, my hostility against him faded. I had to therefore consciously maintain my angered face, if just to unsettle him. He had been too happy and confident that morning. But isn't that what I wanted? Hadn't I asked him to open up?
That same afternoon I helped him pack. Throughout the entire time, he wore a satisfied, almost pleased expression. I, on the other hand, had a mind filled with worrisome thoughts.
"Are you sure you can pay for it? I mean, you don't have a job. . ."
"Actually, I have some savings."
"But it can't last forever. You should probably reconsider."
"You'd be surprised. It's not as little as you might think."
"How about this person? Do you know him? What if he's some sexual deviant?"
He threw his head back and laughed.
"No, I don't know him, but I think I'll take my chances."
I don't think I'd ever seen him so alive and content as I did then, except for when I read him a poem. Or when I told him we were friends. And the time I made a comment about his name being cute. Or. . .or when. . .when we were together at the beach.
I didn't want him to leave. That is why I had looked for him like mad, so I could take care of him. And now. . .after all. . .he, he wanted to leave. I had just been making up excuses all morning, to try to keep him. I stopped folding his clothes as I spaced out. Matthew began to waves his hands before me, but I ignored him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but nothing came out. Instead, I stared at him like an idiot mannequin, with my mouth open as he looked at me behind the frame of the door.
"Bye, Dom," he said, with a smile. "I'll catch you around."
Once the door closed, I awoke. All I could feel was angst.
"How. . .How dare you? You ran in front of my car, causing me to almost run you over. Then I took you home and let you sleep in my bed. Naked. As if that weren' enough, I had to endure your presence even when I knew you were thinking about me. I saved you when you tried to kill yourself. I cheered you up, I read you my poems. And I hugged you when you cried. And I licked your wounds. . .and you didn't even bake me a fucking cake?
I. . .I miss you already. Come. . .come back."
I threw my head back and my knees gave away. As I fell, I felt tears pouring down my cheeks. I didn't undestand any of this. All I knew was that I'd never felt more miserable in my life.
And that I was sick. Sick of caring so much. I put my hand against my chest. It didn't stop the pain.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One more day, I thought. One more meaningless day. I drew an 'X' over the day of April 6. It had been two weeks that I'd known him. And only a day since he'd left. Yet I already sported the darkest and largest bags under my eyes I'd ever see in anyone. I couldn't write. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't do anything. I was obligated to sit down in front of the window. I hated windows. But this one in particular I couldn't stand. I hated how it had watched the events of the past two weeks pasively. Why hadn't it come to life and warned me? That window had known how it would end.
I picked up an ash tray and flung it at the window. And then I ran down the street to the flower shop. I threw a rock at that window. He had seen it too. And so had the flowers. They had to be destroyed as well. Stop. Someone stop this man. Stop him. He broke my window and now he's tearing my roses. Call the police.
I'd lost my mind. I was conscious of it; I didn't want to stop it. It was the only way I could cope with my loss.
But even so, I knew I need to get away. An alley invited me inside. I took her invitation and ran though her. Just as I got inside the door of my building, I came across the smell of roses.
"Bells. . .?"
I didn't need to see to know it was him. His scent made me shudder and brought me back to sanity.
"What is this, a game? One moment you're here, the next you're gone and then you're back again! Why can't you make up your fucking mind already?!"
"Dom. . .I live next door to you."
"What?! Oh, for the love of Christ. . .why didn't you tell me?"
I began to laugh hysterically, both from relief and because I thought I was going insane again.
"Because I wanted to surprise you."
Surprise me. He had wanted to surprise me. And surprise me he had. Normally, an incredible urge to suffocate the person would overcome me, but instead. . .instead I heard music. Soft tinkling music of a piano. And flowers. I saw flowers with butterflies stopping to drink their nectar. The pain returned to my chest, but it was different this time. I liked it.
"So which bedroom do you want, Matt?"
The voice came from the flat next to mine.
"Is that your roommate," I asked.
"Yeah. Come, I want you to meet him. He's an artist. I think you'll like him."
I had seen him before, but for one reason or another I'd never really looked at him. His appearance absorbed you. Short blond hair, tall, thin. He wore a long black shirt, which was open, that moved with the breeze to expose his perfect body. The face of a dream; soft, pale, impeccable.
"It's fine. I've seen him before."
"You've seen him before. But do you know his name?"
I opened my mouth to utter a word, but the truth was, I didn't know his name. The shame I felt had been too obvious.
"Dom, this is Alex. Alex, this is Dominic, the friend I told you about. . ."
So now I was 'Dominic.' The familiarity in which they looked and spoke to each other made me uncomfortable.
". . .but I like to call him the Beautiful Man."
Matt giggled while he. . .he smiled adoringly at Matt. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. But he was beautiful. I just wished and thought that in Matthew's eyes, I would prove to be the better one. I suppose I had been wrong.
"I should get going. Now that you're gone, I can go back to doing what I've always enjoyed: writing. Cheers."
"I'm glad you can finally go back to your old lifestyle."
His comment was honest. There wasn't a sadness to it. Instead, he sounded very satisfied. I turned my back on them as I walked towards my door. There was no room for me in their world.
As I reached into my pocket for the key, I felt something soft and dry. It was a rose. A little brown, wilted rose. She smelled like heaven.