Second post.. The RL drama
For a variety of reasons, none of which I seem to be able to put into words, I want to keep this written. If anything, because I want to remember what happened today - well, technically yesterday -.
Kris’s grandmother died on Saturday morning.
I was distracted most of the day, and had lunch out with my sister, so by the time I saw the text message she had sent me, hours had gone by and the message had been sent 5 times.
Starting with that, things were bad enough. For some reason, some of us, we put dead off our minds a lot, and I’m guilty of that. I didn’t consider the fact that she had not gone home to get better, but to die there.
And well, it happened.
And the first thing in my mind was Kris, and her sorrow, her loss tightened my heart in my chest and my love for her filled me with sadness and a gloomy feeling that I think I only associate with death.
And I wanted, so bad, to be with her. To hold her hand and just let her know that I was there, that I was next to her, and that if she wanted me to, I would whisper nothings in her ear to soothe her.
But one thing led to another and I didn’t see her until Sudnay morning for the funeral.
Before I go on, I have to say that, at some point of worrying about Kris, I realised that not only was I desperately eager to see her, but that by seeing her, within the situations, it would imply that I was going to see Carlos.
And here, I’ve decided, I was thinking many hours ago... that all codes and secrets and mysteries ought to be over. That is his name. Not C, that I’ve used for code, nor Charlie that his cousins call him.
It’s Carlos, and I realised that he was probably in a similar pain, and that I was undoubtedly going to see him.
Having said that, I was very cold when I got dressed and did my make up, because I wanted to make sure I was ‘sporting an ex-boyfriend proof’ look. I guess I didn’t realise how frivolous that had been until it had been done.
I arrived and greeted Kris, and my heart was pounding its way out of my chest because a part of me wanted to see him, and another part didn’t want to, and the bigger part of me just wanted to be there for Kris, and another - the most stupid one - wanted to comfort him.
But when I got there, he wasn’t there yet. So I sat where Kris told me to, and just waited. Kris was running around a lot, but by the time she sat next to me, I caught a glimpse of tall turtle necke’d blond on my back and I turned my head immediately to the front.
When I was brave enough to look back, not only did I see him, but his girlfriend standing next to him. And the first thought in my head was that she was wearing pink. Pink to a funeral!!!! I mean, I get it that not everyone’s a fashion guru, but pink on a funeral is plain tacky.
He was wearing a beige turtle neck that I immediately remembered seeing in his closet, and him showing it to me, and me asking him if it made him look handsome.
Anyway, mass proceeded.
I’m not a catholic. I was raised in a catholic home, but for many reasons, it didn’t stick to me. I hate religion, I think it’s only another, more fanatic, more deceiveful way to do politics. But that’s my thing.
So, for about an hour and a half, I didn’t really pay attention to anything but my crazy thougths. And they went from the architecture of the church, to the HP spoilers, to him being behind me... to the actual fact that this guy and I had been intimate in more ways than just him having been inside of me!
And it felt surreal! It felt surreal that now we were in the same room together but that oceans, and desserts and mountains and valleys and all sorts of obstacles came between us, and in reality we were miles away from each other.
Before the mass ends, Kris moves over to me and tells me she’s going to the cemetery, but still doesn’t know if she’s walking or driving, so meet her at the door to decide.
I meet her at the door. She decides to walk, but it’s raining an awful lot and I have no umbrella, so I decide to stay behind and reconsider. I decide to go home. But I can’t go home without speaking to him, I know. I hadn’t spoken to Kris’ mum either and I really wanted to.
So I go back inside searching for her, and deciding that if I see him on my way to her, then I’ll see what happens.
I greet her, she’s happy to see me. She says it’s comforting to see people she’s not seen in years. That it helps. I’m glad it does. Tell Kris I decided not to cause it’s raining too much and I’ve not an umbrella on me.
She says is all fine, and I make a move to leave.
I have to choices, to leave through the front door, or through the right one.
On the right one, right on the door, he’s there with the girl.
The main reason why I want to talk to him is because it would be very, very, far too much for me, tacky not to talk to him, to at least say hi and pass my condolences...
So I walk in my best Carrie be brave behaviour and as I reach them, his back is to me, and I’m trying to close my purse cause I opened it for God knows what and is being damn too stubborn and I’m conscious of Maria José looking at me and her eyes on me are uncomfortable and disturbing and all kinds of embarassing. Of course she knows who I am, she’s seen my pictures on hi5, and she’s been told about me.
I’m the one who shagged his boyfriend for her for 2 years.
She’s looking at me, and as I manage to close my purse, I raise my head again and approach him. I grab his arm, the one she’s not holding onto, and I move in front of him before he has a chance to turn.
He looks at me, his eyes wide and surprised.
For a moment, is strange not to see them sparkling with lust and emotion, because that’s all I’ve seen in them for the past 2 years. I am conscious, at some point, that in 3 years, we’ve hardly seen each other outside a house or a bedroom.
“Oh, hi,” he says.
“Hi, listen, I’m sorry,” I hugged him briefly. I’m far too aware of her stare on me and my every move.
“Thanks, that’s nice of you. Thank you.”
“Well, anyway, if you see Kris, please tell her I decided not to go to the cemetery cause I haven’t got an umbrella and I’ll talk to her later,”
“Yeah, sure,” he says.
I touch his shoulder intently but careful not to break too much into his personal space. She’s still looking at me. I drop a soft, quick, thoughtless, even a little reckless kiss on his temple. I whisper ‘bye’ just an inch from his skin. I turn on my stilettos and walk away.
I feel good. I feel relieved. My breath is slightly uneasy, and my heart is still clenching uncomfortably, but I feel ok.
I cross the street and hail a cab. I got horribly wet just crossing the street and the driver of the cab looks at me with a very unsettling look, and I half wish I wouldn’t have worked so bad on looking good.
The cab hasn’t walked half a mile when we meet with the people walking after the coffin and Kris is soaking wet, sharing an umbrella with one of her cousins and my heart breaks in several places, and I’m so overwhelmed by emotion, that it takes me a moment to get myself together before I ask the driver to pull over, I’m getting out.
I get out and run to her under the pouring rain until I reach her from behindd.
I was going home, but I couldn’t do it. I say.
We’re close to the cemetery and another cousin of Kris lends me an umbrella and when we get there, I help her with some flowers.
I walk steadily behind her, in the way I know she needs me to. Before that, she slipped under my borrowed umbrella and smiles at me and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I smile and hug her.
Then I tell her a secret, cause I had promised that the next time we’d met, I’d tell her. She’s disappointed, she was probably hoping for a lot more drama, given that I’ve kept it a secret for so long.
Once we’re inside, because of the rain, and the number of puddles around the graves, and my stilettos sinking on the mud, I am forced to stay where I am. A line of graves away from where the family is standing with the coffin.
They’re a big family, so they have to wait around for others.
He comes among the last ones. And until it’s too late, we realise that we’re standing right in front of each other. With the family and two lines of graves between us.
Couldn’t have been more ironic. Two lines of death and feelings and no more’s between us. Me on one side, trying to keep my designer stilettos from sinking in the mud, and him on the other, with his girl holding onto him like he’s a something she must hold on to cause she’s earned it, cause she’s.. ok, I’m judging her, this isn’t what it is about.
But every time I raise my head, there he is, in front of my eyes. Some of the times, he’s staring at me, and others I’m trying not to look at him.
Uncomfortable is over.
Every now and then, she moves her neck to see him through the family in the middle and she shots me dirty looks. A part of me understands her. Understands that if I were to see the woman who shagged my boyfriend in a room where she had the audacity to greet him and kiss his cheek, well... I’d be sort of mad too.
But she shots me dirty looks as if I owe her something. And I can’t help myself from thinking that if anyone owes her something it’s the blue eyed liar standing next to her. But I tell myself that I don’t want to judge him, because today isn’t the day, and karma will judge him some day anyway.
Karma will always want to catch up with us.. and will get its way.
The moment refuses to die.
And he’s crying, I notice. Big, sad, silent tears that make his cheeks turn pink in the same way that I’ve seen lust do. I’m sorry. I really am sorry for him and his pain. I try my best to look somewhere else that’s not in front of me, but it’s hard to do so and have him not notice that I’m effortlessly trying not to let him know I’m seeing him cry.
I really am sorry for his loss.
Because this isn’t karma, or something he’s earned.... But this is more feeling that he’s let me see in years... and I’m a little disturbed by that.
Because this isn’t karma catching up for that time I cried my eyes out naked in his bed.
He’s crying actual emotions. And I feel sorry for him. I want to give him a space to do so without having to see me, but he looks at me from the distance and I can’t help being uncomfortable. Pablo comes to hug him, and a part of me is relieved that not only is he being comforted, but that all my stupid, senseless impulses are stopped by that.
We met again later, as I crossed the cemetery to give the umbrella back. It isn’t raining anymore.
Not a word, just a quick, uncomfortable nod, and a lame attempt to smile.
Because, well, in the end.. this is how it ends. In party of 3, one will be left out, and I’ve always knowns we were too screwed up. In some place, I always knew it was going to be me.
*Proceeds to cut, cause this came out far longer than she expected.*
I’m better now. I’m relieved. I’m calmed.... at least we didn’t prolonge the inevitable. We’ve seen each other and I survived with my heart and all its pieces still held together.
Kris’s grandmother died on Saturday morning.
I was distracted most of the day, and had lunch out with my sister, so by the time I saw the text message she had sent me, hours had gone by and the message had been sent 5 times.
Starting with that, things were bad enough. For some reason, some of us, we put dead off our minds a lot, and I’m guilty of that. I didn’t consider the fact that she had not gone home to get better, but to die there.
And well, it happened.
And the first thing in my mind was Kris, and her sorrow, her loss tightened my heart in my chest and my love for her filled me with sadness and a gloomy feeling that I think I only associate with death.
And I wanted, so bad, to be with her. To hold her hand and just let her know that I was there, that I was next to her, and that if she wanted me to, I would whisper nothings in her ear to soothe her.
But one thing led to another and I didn’t see her until Sudnay morning for the funeral.
Before I go on, I have to say that, at some point of worrying about Kris, I realised that not only was I desperately eager to see her, but that by seeing her, within the situations, it would imply that I was going to see Carlos.
And here, I’ve decided, I was thinking many hours ago... that all codes and secrets and mysteries ought to be over. That is his name. Not C, that I’ve used for code, nor Charlie that his cousins call him.
It’s Carlos, and I realised that he was probably in a similar pain, and that I was undoubtedly going to see him.
Having said that, I was very cold when I got dressed and did my make up, because I wanted to make sure I was ‘sporting an ex-boyfriend proof’ look. I guess I didn’t realise how frivolous that had been until it had been done.
I arrived and greeted Kris, and my heart was pounding its way out of my chest because a part of me wanted to see him, and another part didn’t want to, and the bigger part of me just wanted to be there for Kris, and another - the most stupid one - wanted to comfort him.
But when I got there, he wasn’t there yet. So I sat where Kris told me to, and just waited. Kris was running around a lot, but by the time she sat next to me, I caught a glimpse of tall turtle necke’d blond on my back and I turned my head immediately to the front.
When I was brave enough to look back, not only did I see him, but his girlfriend standing next to him. And the first thought in my head was that she was wearing pink. Pink to a funeral!!!! I mean, I get it that not everyone’s a fashion guru, but pink on a funeral is plain tacky.
He was wearing a beige turtle neck that I immediately remembered seeing in his closet, and him showing it to me, and me asking him if it made him look handsome.
Anyway, mass proceeded.
I’m not a catholic. I was raised in a catholic home, but for many reasons, it didn’t stick to me. I hate religion, I think it’s only another, more fanatic, more deceiveful way to do politics. But that’s my thing.
So, for about an hour and a half, I didn’t really pay attention to anything but my crazy thougths. And they went from the architecture of the church, to the HP spoilers, to him being behind me... to the actual fact that this guy and I had been intimate in more ways than just him having been inside of me!
And it felt surreal! It felt surreal that now we were in the same room together but that oceans, and desserts and mountains and valleys and all sorts of obstacles came between us, and in reality we were miles away from each other.
Before the mass ends, Kris moves over to me and tells me she’s going to the cemetery, but still doesn’t know if she’s walking or driving, so meet her at the door to decide.
I meet her at the door. She decides to walk, but it’s raining an awful lot and I have no umbrella, so I decide to stay behind and reconsider. I decide to go home. But I can’t go home without speaking to him, I know. I hadn’t spoken to Kris’ mum either and I really wanted to.
So I go back inside searching for her, and deciding that if I see him on my way to her, then I’ll see what happens.
I greet her, she’s happy to see me. She says it’s comforting to see people she’s not seen in years. That it helps. I’m glad it does. Tell Kris I decided not to cause it’s raining too much and I’ve not an umbrella on me.
She says is all fine, and I make a move to leave.
I have to choices, to leave through the front door, or through the right one.
On the right one, right on the door, he’s there with the girl.
The main reason why I want to talk to him is because it would be very, very, far too much for me, tacky not to talk to him, to at least say hi and pass my condolences...
So I walk in my best Carrie be brave behaviour and as I reach them, his back is to me, and I’m trying to close my purse cause I opened it for God knows what and is being damn too stubborn and I’m conscious of Maria José looking at me and her eyes on me are uncomfortable and disturbing and all kinds of embarassing. Of course she knows who I am, she’s seen my pictures on hi5, and she’s been told about me.
I’m the one who shagged his boyfriend for her for 2 years.
She’s looking at me, and as I manage to close my purse, I raise my head again and approach him. I grab his arm, the one she’s not holding onto, and I move in front of him before he has a chance to turn.
He looks at me, his eyes wide and surprised.
For a moment, is strange not to see them sparkling with lust and emotion, because that’s all I’ve seen in them for the past 2 years. I am conscious, at some point, that in 3 years, we’ve hardly seen each other outside a house or a bedroom.
“Oh, hi,” he says.
“Hi, listen, I’m sorry,” I hugged him briefly. I’m far too aware of her stare on me and my every move.
“Thanks, that’s nice of you. Thank you.”
“Well, anyway, if you see Kris, please tell her I decided not to go to the cemetery cause I haven’t got an umbrella and I’ll talk to her later,”
“Yeah, sure,” he says.
I touch his shoulder intently but careful not to break too much into his personal space. She’s still looking at me. I drop a soft, quick, thoughtless, even a little reckless kiss on his temple. I whisper ‘bye’ just an inch from his skin. I turn on my stilettos and walk away.
I feel good. I feel relieved. My breath is slightly uneasy, and my heart is still clenching uncomfortably, but I feel ok.
I cross the street and hail a cab. I got horribly wet just crossing the street and the driver of the cab looks at me with a very unsettling look, and I half wish I wouldn’t have worked so bad on looking good.
The cab hasn’t walked half a mile when we meet with the people walking after the coffin and Kris is soaking wet, sharing an umbrella with one of her cousins and my heart breaks in several places, and I’m so overwhelmed by emotion, that it takes me a moment to get myself together before I ask the driver to pull over, I’m getting out.
I get out and run to her under the pouring rain until I reach her from behindd.
I was going home, but I couldn’t do it. I say.
We’re close to the cemetery and another cousin of Kris lends me an umbrella and when we get there, I help her with some flowers.
I walk steadily behind her, in the way I know she needs me to. Before that, she slipped under my borrowed umbrella and smiles at me and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I smile and hug her.
Then I tell her a secret, cause I had promised that the next time we’d met, I’d tell her. She’s disappointed, she was probably hoping for a lot more drama, given that I’ve kept it a secret for so long.
Once we’re inside, because of the rain, and the number of puddles around the graves, and my stilettos sinking on the mud, I am forced to stay where I am. A line of graves away from where the family is standing with the coffin.
They’re a big family, so they have to wait around for others.
He comes among the last ones. And until it’s too late, we realise that we’re standing right in front of each other. With the family and two lines of graves between us.
Couldn’t have been more ironic. Two lines of death and feelings and no more’s between us. Me on one side, trying to keep my designer stilettos from sinking in the mud, and him on the other, with his girl holding onto him like he’s a something she must hold on to cause she’s earned it, cause she’s.. ok, I’m judging her, this isn’t what it is about.
But every time I raise my head, there he is, in front of my eyes. Some of the times, he’s staring at me, and others I’m trying not to look at him.
Uncomfortable is over.
Every now and then, she moves her neck to see him through the family in the middle and she shots me dirty looks. A part of me understands her. Understands that if I were to see the woman who shagged my boyfriend in a room where she had the audacity to greet him and kiss his cheek, well... I’d be sort of mad too.
But she shots me dirty looks as if I owe her something. And I can’t help myself from thinking that if anyone owes her something it’s the blue eyed liar standing next to her. But I tell myself that I don’t want to judge him, because today isn’t the day, and karma will judge him some day anyway.
Karma will always want to catch up with us.. and will get its way.
The moment refuses to die.
And he’s crying, I notice. Big, sad, silent tears that make his cheeks turn pink in the same way that I’ve seen lust do. I’m sorry. I really am sorry for him and his pain. I try my best to look somewhere else that’s not in front of me, but it’s hard to do so and have him not notice that I’m effortlessly trying not to let him know I’m seeing him cry.
I really am sorry for his loss.
Because this isn’t karma, or something he’s earned.... But this is more feeling that he’s let me see in years... and I’m a little disturbed by that.
Because this isn’t karma catching up for that time I cried my eyes out naked in his bed.
He’s crying actual emotions. And I feel sorry for him. I want to give him a space to do so without having to see me, but he looks at me from the distance and I can’t help being uncomfortable. Pablo comes to hug him, and a part of me is relieved that not only is he being comforted, but that all my stupid, senseless impulses are stopped by that.
We met again later, as I crossed the cemetery to give the umbrella back. It isn’t raining anymore.
Not a word, just a quick, uncomfortable nod, and a lame attempt to smile.
Because, well, in the end.. this is how it ends. In party of 3, one will be left out, and I’ve always knowns we were too screwed up. In some place, I always knew it was going to be me.
*Proceeds to cut, cause this came out far longer than she expected.*
I’m better now. I’m relieved. I’m calmed.... at least we didn’t prolonge the inevitable. We’ve seen each other and I survived with my heart and all its pieces still held together.