My legs falter as I see you approaching in the distance, my cry of welcome dies in my throat as I see you look around determinedly at the florist, the chemist, the game store; anywhere but me. My head hangs and I sink to the floor as you stride into the distance, desperately pretending that you had never seen me, never met me, never knew me.
***
I can feel your eyes on me as I walk past. I look the other way, not wanting to se how I’ve hurt you again – I’m so sick of the guilt, of the recriminations, of your tears. What should I do? What do I say? What can I say? There are no words.
***
I can’t remember when I met you first, when you first walked into my life, all I can remember is finally noticing you were there, realising that I wanted you with the passion that belongs to the forbidden. You weren’t mine, could never be mine – but at times, oh how I wished you could be.
***
“No regrets – never any regrets.”
I take it back – one regret; that I ever told you I liked you. If I’d never spoken, never believed, oh how happy we would be now. None of this pretending, none of these games, where you look away and pretend like I never meant anything to you, like you never held me in your arms and told me how glad you were we were together, like you never whispered to me, hot and hard in the night, that you loved me. If I’d never said anything, if I’d never deluded myself into believing that maybe, just maybe, you could feel the same way about me, if I’d never decided to tell you maybe we could still be friends, not the cold, stilted strangers we’ve become.
***
“There’s someone else”
Something cracks. Is it me? Is it my heart? My life? My hope? Have I anything left to crack?
“I don’t know how I feel – I don’t know how I want to feel. I don’t even know what I felt – but I thought you should know.”
A slow steady noise. Is it my heart still beating on despite all expectations or just a clock’s tick somewhere in the distance? The beating of a drum, perhaps, echoing through the silence, the slow, painful silence; the tear I expected to streak down my cheek doesn’t, and I lift my hand to my face, surprised by its absence. Is this real? Is any of this real? Or just another one of those weird fanciful dreams? I look deep into your eyes as I try and work out if this is goodbye.
***
“It’s over isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You, me, this, us, it’s over.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry – don’t ever be sorry. No regrets.”
***
Your eyes say it all, your arms, your hands, there is no need for words as you hold me close and tell me you love me.
***
So this is what it is like to be loved.
***
You knock on my door and I open it. You’re standing there, oh so beautiful. My breath sticks in my throat, my mouth dries up and as I swallow, frantically, trying to find the words to tell you, you smile nervously. You laugh and threaten me, half jokingly, that I’d better tell you that you look good. Of course I think you do. I always have. I just can never make you believe it. I lean down and brush my lips against yours, wishing I can make it so you never doubt again. Wondering how you can’t see how much I love you every time I look into your eyes, every time I say your name, every time you make me laugh. I wonder what happened to make you feel this doubt, why you never noticed just how special you are.
***
“You made me feel special – like I could do anything, be anything. You made me feel like finally I was someone who mattered, someone important.”
“You are special – you’re amazing. Is there any way I can make you believe me?”
You look sadly into my eyes, tears glisten on your eyelashes and I know your answer even before you smile and shake your head slowly.
“No,” you say. “No.”
***
“There’s something you should know…”
“You’re pregnant.” A laugh.
“No”
“You’re leaving me?” the terror in your voice.
“No”.
You look impatient, worried, confused.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
“Oh.” A slow, dumb grin spreads over your face, and I see your eyes shine with joy. “Oh.”
***
“I still want to be friends.” My hand brushes your face, feeling the stubble newly growing on your cheek, rasping against my hand for the last time.
“I’d like that.” A soft smile as I turn and walk away.
***
“I thought it would be nice if we could try being friends. None of this awkward looking away and pretending like none of this ever happened, or worse, that neither of us exist.”
You pause, and then you don’t smile, but somehow you unfreeze, like something has clicked back into place, and finally you can be you again.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“We don’t have to be what we were, but I’d like to stop being what we are.”
“I’d like that too.”
We smile and listen as the cheers being, and the loud bangs tell of fireworks somewhere nearby. We smile as people around us celebrate a new year, a new beginning.
“Que sera, sera…” I sing softly under my breath.
“What’s that?” you ask.
“Oh, nothing,” I reply.
Around us the celebrations continue.
***
I smile as the cheers begin. I catch your eye as you mutter something under your breath.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing,” you reply.
Around us the celebrations continue.
Whatever will be, will be.
***
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Cheating Death
A shadowy figure brushed past the hospital curtain and appeared at the end of the bed. A dark hood masked the skeletal face, and a scythe clattered against his bony hands. ‘Death,’ thought the old man, ‘has come for me.’ He considered adding a ‘finally’, but decided that just because he had had numerous near death experiences, it did not mean he was ready to die.
Death looked startled. ‘Of course you are ready to die.’ He looked down at himself, ‘I’m here aren’t I?’ He waited for the old man to nod, somewhat less than enthusiastically. ‘Then you must be ready.’
‘But I’m not!’ the old man continued to protest. ‘I want to get married –‘
‘You have – three times.’
‘Have kids –‘
‘How many more do you want?!’
‘Take a trip around the world –‘
‘Again! Look, you’ve cheated me before. NO MORE!’ Death picked up the old man’s hospital chart and flicked a bony finger over the graphs and comments “…failing heart, low muscle tone, high blood pressure, beginning of cancerous cells in the liver…”
‘I’m afraid, my friend, that you can’t survive for much longer.’
‘I’ll make you a deal!’ the old man flailed wildly for an excuse, any excuse, to continue living.
Death sighed. ‘Every time we go through this, and every time you cheat me. I’m starting to be a laughing stock among the other “Reapers”’
‘This time,’ the old man continued his wild ravings. ‘I’ll let you choose the challenge.
Death looked interested, so interested in fact, he almost missed the fleeting thoughts through the old man’s mind. He looked up startled. ‘No! You will not find a way to stay on this earth longer. If,’ Death stressed the if. ‘If I set a challenge, you will not complete it successfully. It will be, and only be, a chance for me to gain face in the “Other World”.’
‘I am willing to take that chance,’ replied the old man.
‘Good,’ whispered Death, his hollow voice echoing around the room. ‘This, then, is your challenge…’
The old man watched the hour clock tip for the one hundred and twentieth time – not that he was counting mind you, but one did tend to notice when minutes were ticking off one’s life.
He continued his slow, rhythmic plucking of clovers, determined to find that all-important four leafed clover. The one which would save his life, and cheat Death.
“POOF!”
Death appeared beside the old man. He tapped a bony finger on the glass thoughtfully. Only minutes remained.
The sand hissed through the glass, when –
‘I’ve found it!’
‘Impossible!’
‘But I have!’ The old man waved the clover.
‘No!’ cried Death. ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to work!’ Death continued his rant ‘Time is supposed to run out. The glass shatters. You look up at me dejectedly. I laugh triumphantly’ Death practised his unnecessary laugh. ‘Then I cut your life’s breath. I return, a hero among the other “Reapers”. Now, let’s do it how it’s supposed to be done. You put down the clover, and pretend you haven’t seen it, and we’ll take it from there.’ Death crossed his arms expectantly.
The old man looked from the clover in his hand to Death. ‘But I found it.’
‘No, No, No, No, No!!’ Death waved a threatening, bony fist. ‘You can’t find it. You’re not supposed to find it!’
‘But…’ the old man proffered the clover.
Death threw down his scythe. ‘That’s it! – I QUIT!’ Death stormed off the hill, walking into the distance, through to the “Other World”.
The old man cackled, softly, triumphantly. His eyes twinkled, and he thanked his stars that Death had no eyes. He couldn’t see his clover, his lucky clover, the one with only three leaves.
Death looked startled. ‘Of course you are ready to die.’ He looked down at himself, ‘I’m here aren’t I?’ He waited for the old man to nod, somewhat less than enthusiastically. ‘Then you must be ready.’
‘But I’m not!’ the old man continued to protest. ‘I want to get married –‘
‘You have – three times.’
‘Have kids –‘
‘How many more do you want?!’
‘Take a trip around the world –‘
‘Again! Look, you’ve cheated me before. NO MORE!’ Death picked up the old man’s hospital chart and flicked a bony finger over the graphs and comments “…failing heart, low muscle tone, high blood pressure, beginning of cancerous cells in the liver…”
‘I’m afraid, my friend, that you can’t survive for much longer.’
‘I’ll make you a deal!’ the old man flailed wildly for an excuse, any excuse, to continue living.
Death sighed. ‘Every time we go through this, and every time you cheat me. I’m starting to be a laughing stock among the other “Reapers”’
‘This time,’ the old man continued his wild ravings. ‘I’ll let you choose the challenge.
Death looked interested, so interested in fact, he almost missed the fleeting thoughts through the old man’s mind. He looked up startled. ‘No! You will not find a way to stay on this earth longer. If,’ Death stressed the if. ‘If I set a challenge, you will not complete it successfully. It will be, and only be, a chance for me to gain face in the “Other World”.’
‘I am willing to take that chance,’ replied the old man.
‘Good,’ whispered Death, his hollow voice echoing around the room. ‘This, then, is your challenge…’
The old man watched the hour clock tip for the one hundred and twentieth time – not that he was counting mind you, but one did tend to notice when minutes were ticking off one’s life.
He continued his slow, rhythmic plucking of clovers, determined to find that all-important four leafed clover. The one which would save his life, and cheat Death.
“POOF!”
Death appeared beside the old man. He tapped a bony finger on the glass thoughtfully. Only minutes remained.
The sand hissed through the glass, when –
‘I’ve found it!’
‘Impossible!’
‘But I have!’ The old man waved the clover.
‘No!’ cried Death. ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to work!’ Death continued his rant ‘Time is supposed to run out. The glass shatters. You look up at me dejectedly. I laugh triumphantly’ Death practised his unnecessary laugh. ‘Then I cut your life’s breath. I return, a hero among the other “Reapers”. Now, let’s do it how it’s supposed to be done. You put down the clover, and pretend you haven’t seen it, and we’ll take it from there.’ Death crossed his arms expectantly.
The old man looked from the clover in his hand to Death. ‘But I found it.’
‘No, No, No, No, No!!’ Death waved a threatening, bony fist. ‘You can’t find it. You’re not supposed to find it!’
‘But…’ the old man proffered the clover.
Death threw down his scythe. ‘That’s it! – I QUIT!’ Death stormed off the hill, walking into the distance, through to the “Other World”.
The old man cackled, softly, triumphantly. His eyes twinkled, and he thanked his stars that Death had no eyes. He couldn’t see his clover, his lucky clover, the one with only three leaves.
Feelings
‘Tell me you love me.’
‘What?’
‘Tell me you love me.’
‘I love you.’ A startled voice
a resurfacing memory… ‘I dreamt of another girl last night.’
‘Make me feel it. Make me feel you love me.’
…a stolen night, on an empty shore.
‘What did you feel?’
‘I was in two parts….’
‘No! Tell me what you felt. No sugar coating. Don’t be afraid of hurting me…’ I am invincible.
‘I felt neglected.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ shouts, mad ravings.
‘How could I?’
‘How could you not?’
‘But –‘
‘You say, yes I do mind. No, I’d rather do something else. You tell me you feel alone, like an outsider looking in. Don’t patronise me. Don’t lie to me. I hate it when you lie to me.’
…strong, secure arms. Loving arms. The kind you could die it.
‘But you promised.’
‘I know, but –‘
‘You broke a promise.’
…Tears, splashing, on a page. A face. A teddy bears shoulder.
‘I’m so afraid of losing you.’
‘You won’t lose me.’
‘It’s so easy to say it. Words are so easy. So easy to lie by, to lie to. Hide things, from yourself, from others. So easy to believe. I know. I’ve done it.’
…a tidal wave of joy. Of anticipation. Of love.
‘I need to feel that you love me.’
‘I do.’
‘I know you do. But I need to feel it. I need to feel that I’m more important than your games, than your work. I need to feel your arms around me. Holding me. So tight. Holding on like you won’t ever let go. Like I’m life itself.’
‘I want to.’
…a soft, tender kiss. The brush of a dewy rose petal.
‘I need you right now.’
‘I need you too.’
‘Nothing feels like it used to.’
‘I would give anything to take back the past’
‘Ignore the past. Move onto the future.’
‘I do love you.’
‘I know. I love you too.’
…rain, swishing contentedly upon a window pane. Soft droplets of water. So close to tears. Yet so far.
‘What?’
‘Tell me you love me.’
‘I love you.’ A startled voice
a resurfacing memory… ‘I dreamt of another girl last night.’
‘Make me feel it. Make me feel you love me.’
…a stolen night, on an empty shore.
‘What did you feel?’
‘I was in two parts….’
‘No! Tell me what you felt. No sugar coating. Don’t be afraid of hurting me…’ I am invincible.
‘I felt neglected.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ shouts, mad ravings.
‘How could I?’
‘How could you not?’
‘But –‘
‘You say, yes I do mind. No, I’d rather do something else. You tell me you feel alone, like an outsider looking in. Don’t patronise me. Don’t lie to me. I hate it when you lie to me.’
…strong, secure arms. Loving arms. The kind you could die it.
‘But you promised.’
‘I know, but –‘
‘You broke a promise.’
…Tears, splashing, on a page. A face. A teddy bears shoulder.
‘I’m so afraid of losing you.’
‘You won’t lose me.’
‘It’s so easy to say it. Words are so easy. So easy to lie by, to lie to. Hide things, from yourself, from others. So easy to believe. I know. I’ve done it.’
…a tidal wave of joy. Of anticipation. Of love.
‘I need to feel that you love me.’
‘I do.’
‘I know you do. But I need to feel it. I need to feel that I’m more important than your games, than your work. I need to feel your arms around me. Holding me. So tight. Holding on like you won’t ever let go. Like I’m life itself.’
‘I want to.’
…a soft, tender kiss. The brush of a dewy rose petal.
‘I need you right now.’
‘I need you too.’
‘Nothing feels like it used to.’
‘I would give anything to take back the past’
‘Ignore the past. Move onto the future.’
‘I do love you.’
‘I know. I love you too.’
…rain, swishing contentedly upon a window pane. Soft droplets of water. So close to tears. Yet so far.
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