(no subject)
In a life of errors, you find beauty in the flaws. It’s a fallen world. You reached an arm in but your hands are too small; you tried too hard to save them all and you couldn’t. There is poetry in the motions of a flailing child but there is nothing romantic about death. There is nothing but pain in the stillness of silence or in the pale grip of life as it leaves. The rest of them, they drew walls around their hearts but you couldn’t erect them. And they all judged you for it; every single one of them, until you learned how to cry without tears and how to hurt without noise
The world made you cold and the city was your sanctuary; you wandered its streets without aim. Derek never understood your infatuation with it; he never loved it like you did. But long before all the crazy shit started, you once dragged Mark along the consecrated streets of blinding lights and you laughed together and spun until the world turned warm and embraced you. You used to walk side by side discussing nothing and everything, because the trivial conversation was your lifeline. He used to look the other way when you cried, and absently stroke at your hair and it was such a relief to find someone who wouldn’t look at you in disgust, so you let him. Derek praised you when you stopped crying after every loss, Mark left chocolates on your desk and a tissue box. You fell apart in the shower and Derek couldn’t hear over the water.
The fundamental problem between you and Derek was that you spoke different languages. He was noble and restrained, he was fluent in chivalry; you were passionate and outspoken. When you realized this, your marriage began to crumble.
Mark was the first to figure it out. He walked her through Central Park, and bought her an ice cream cone before he asked, “Addy, what’s happened to you and Derek?”
She’s taken aback and her cone drips absently onto her skin, “What do you mean?”
“Addy, I… I have eyes, what’s going on?”
She stops and swings her legs over the swings and rocks softly back and forth, “Nothing. Are you doing anything tomorrow?” And she changes the subject as abruptly as he introduces it. He plays along because in somewhere inherent, he’s drawn to her, he’s a servant, a lowly slave to this Queen.
“No. Why?”
“There’s a fundraiser Savvy’s throwing, Derek’s going to be working so I need a date,” Addison grins up at him, “want to be my back-up?”
Mark laughed, “Do you think I really want to play second fiddle to my best-friend.”
“Consider it a favor to me…” she says, twirling her hair around her finger and then grinning, “I’ll buy you a hot dog.”
He smiles, “Deal.”
“I knew you’d cave.”
“Well, I’m weak for a woman who’ll buy my wiener.”
Addison smiles in spite of herself, “Mark…”
“Oh I’m sorry, I meant buy me a wiener.”
“Yes.”
“My bad.”
“It is,” she laughed, “so you’ll go?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
“As I said…”
“Okay,” she said laughing as she pulled him up by the wrists and continued walking, “you love me,” she leans in and whispers it in his ear, “just admit it.” He laughs in her face.
The first time you tripped you were both drunk, a string of charity events, thinly veiled excuses to be near each other. He kisses you after the fifth one and you let him because he’s beautiful and wonderful and your best friend.
You slept with him because you could. You slept with him because you abandoned your principles at about the same time you abandoned your ideals. The night Derek caught the two of you together, you planned it all out. You were surprised at how much it hurt. It wasn’t supposed to, but again, you failed to erect the walls.
And now, two states and a divorce later, you’re sitting in your bed in L.A. and he’s turning you down. You’re not really sure how you got here. He doesn’t feel familiar anymore. When you close your eyes, his scent is different, you don’t recognize him.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” He’s saying.
“I don’t either… I miss you.” You find words rolling off your tongue without thoughts to accompany them, “Sometimes I think about New York. Sometimes I get nostalgic, but you’re not here for me anymore are you? You’ve changed, you’ve become someone else, I don’t know you anymore Mark.”
He groans and buries his face into his hands, “Do you know who I am now?” He asks, and you look at him expectantly and he continues, “I am a man who grills, who’s going to play baseball with his kids, that’s me. That’s who I’ve become. Do you remember who said that in the first place?” He’s getting mad and you desperately want to run, and run far, far away, back to New York, back to Connecticut, back to when you were little and replay time. But you can’t, you’re rooted to the ground because some sick, delirious part of you, wants to hear what he has to say.
“I changed for you…” he says.
You scoff, “You changed for Grey. What is it with you and Derek?”
“She was the first to come along; I changed because your words play over and over in my head. You’re always there telling me I’m not good enough, well goddamnit Addison! I’m trying, I’m trying so hard…” he rests his elbows on his knees, “But you put me and you in a room together and look, we’re back here again.”
You have nothing to say, so you kiss him one more time and send him on his way.
You’ll each take your own grievances and head back down your old miserable paths. It’s not the first time you’ve gone in opposite directions, but you’re pretty sure in the end, you’ll come back again.
End