My Four O'Clock Bedtime Story
He looks outside and says it's dark. I turn my head away, uncomfortable from his attempt to get rid of our rigid touching and amazingly complete understanding.
I tell him it's because it's 10 o'clock...at night. He should go home so I can avoid an awkward confrontation with my parents later. He can come back at one if he wants. the window will be open.
What's wrong with us? he asks. I tell him that my karma has turned on me. What I shamefully wished would happen to my best friend (out of jealousy) has happened to him and me. Karma always leaves her alone; the bad kind anyway.
It'll only happen if you let it, he says. It wouldn't happen if you'd hold my hand in a way that lets me know I have the power to keep it from happening, I tell him.
Then he tries too hard. He grabs my hand with both of his. I should only need one. He wants to say he loves me, but I tell him to go home.
Twelve-thirty. I open the window, holding my breath still, even after a thousand times of pulling it up. I fear an alarm sounding, even though there isn't one. I cuss, sullying the silent, calm air, as I step in the damp sand. I forgot to lay a towel down.
I know if he shows up he'll just hang around my room and wait for me.
I walk down the street and push my jacket sleeves up my arm, burning up in the Florida heat. The only thing keeping me cool is the sheet of dew on the black-top road I step in with my bare feet. I need my jacket, though. It'll be cold by the creek.
I lay down on my stomach at the end of the dock, my chin in my hands. I stare straight down into the water, imagining an alligator staring back, its sad eyes begging me not to scream, to touch the tip of its nose with confidence, to let me know I will never feel its sharp teeth.
I look up and feel a rush from the eerieness of the mist veiling the creek. I think about my best friend and how I'm losing what I need. I think about HIM and realize that I can't even keep what I want. I'm my own victim. I've got myself tied to a chair with a rag in my mouth, a ransom asking for something too unrealistic.
Two o'clock. I crawl back in my window. My room has a stillness about it as if not even a tiny spider set its legs in it. I grab my shoulders, freezing, as I realize he never came.
I take my jacket off and lie on my bed, wrapping the sheets around me. Holding my phone in my hand, I watch the lights on my wall change as pictures of him and me slide by on the computer. I fall asleep.
Four o'clock. I wake up to my phone ringing. I get excited from hearing the ringtone he just had to have.
I say hello and wait with the silence.
You say you don't love me.
I say goodnight.
I tell him it's because it's 10 o'clock...at night. He should go home so I can avoid an awkward confrontation with my parents later. He can come back at one if he wants. the window will be open.
What's wrong with us? he asks. I tell him that my karma has turned on me. What I shamefully wished would happen to my best friend (out of jealousy) has happened to him and me. Karma always leaves her alone; the bad kind anyway.
It'll only happen if you let it, he says. It wouldn't happen if you'd hold my hand in a way that lets me know I have the power to keep it from happening, I tell him.
Then he tries too hard. He grabs my hand with both of his. I should only need one. He wants to say he loves me, but I tell him to go home.
Twelve-thirty. I open the window, holding my breath still, even after a thousand times of pulling it up. I fear an alarm sounding, even though there isn't one. I cuss, sullying the silent, calm air, as I step in the damp sand. I forgot to lay a towel down.
I know if he shows up he'll just hang around my room and wait for me.
I walk down the street and push my jacket sleeves up my arm, burning up in the Florida heat. The only thing keeping me cool is the sheet of dew on the black-top road I step in with my bare feet. I need my jacket, though. It'll be cold by the creek.
I lay down on my stomach at the end of the dock, my chin in my hands. I stare straight down into the water, imagining an alligator staring back, its sad eyes begging me not to scream, to touch the tip of its nose with confidence, to let me know I will never feel its sharp teeth.
I look up and feel a rush from the eerieness of the mist veiling the creek. I think about my best friend and how I'm losing what I need. I think about HIM and realize that I can't even keep what I want. I'm my own victim. I've got myself tied to a chair with a rag in my mouth, a ransom asking for something too unrealistic.
Two o'clock. I crawl back in my window. My room has a stillness about it as if not even a tiny spider set its legs in it. I grab my shoulders, freezing, as I realize he never came.
I take my jacket off and lie on my bed, wrapping the sheets around me. Holding my phone in my hand, I watch the lights on my wall change as pictures of him and me slide by on the computer. I fall asleep.
Four o'clock. I wake up to my phone ringing. I get excited from hearing the ringtone he just had to have.
I say hello and wait with the silence.
You say you don't love me.
I say goodnight.