|
she doesn't do it very often, but she'd done it twice in a row: erased the droning words to try to replace them with better ones - ones that fit better. It's not as if all the offerings she ever made were such art and she had a standard to adhere to. it was more that she couldn't even remember what she had said and there seemed no point to it. she had almost gotten away without crying today, but before she put the little green journal from last year away, she read the last page,
"and this is it. Leon, I so value all the time that I've spent with you.I can't wait for this weekend when you'll give me some of the air you breathe. I ache for you, and the only thing I can do is wait and hope for a miracle. I was lonely before I met you, and I'll be lonely afterwards. Thanks for the ice."
oof.
it had rained like a mofo.
she was thrilled. she had tons of fruits on the tomato plant, but had only eaten two of them and they weren't so fucking amazing. maybe next time, she'd actually try and get an heirloom variety instead of ace hardware''s healthiest plant.
last year's tomato had been worse. she had only gotten one. he had mocked her openly, but she wanted to counter ''I tried though''. she didn't have much in her life to compete, and when she loved you, it was like a vacuum cleaner came on in her brain - absorbing everything of you to be sorted later - like they do at a crime scene.
when you inevitably dump her ... because usually she's gone fucking nuts trying to do the radiohead song, "if I could be who you wanted. if I could be who you wanted - all the time."
she could do it for a tiny bit, but as John prine or bonnie raitt said, "it takes a whole lot of medicine darlin for me to pretend that I'm somebody else..."
and the game was over. there weren't any extensions. but she just wouldn't leave the stadium. just wouldn't. she had texted him today. she used the gambit that it was one of those wordle words where the first letter could be ten different things. he had mentioned that to her once and she had once joked that at least she wasn't the kind of person that just reported her wordle results to him every day.
now she was someone who danced with herself. joked with herself.
she remembered those books that he had given her, but she should have given them back. he really only had her borrow them then she said, ''can I give them to my mother''. they were by tana French and she learned later it was a dream of his: go off to Ireland, reinvent his rugged quiet craftsman life, have a solid independently wealthy widow visit just enough and not too much. and voila - happiness...
she could have been that widow.
instead, it had always just been talk talk talk eat eat eat fuck fuck fuck bye bye bye.
it hurt to realize it had happened again - and this time after all the lessons and studies and age.
but she had to start getting up. there wasn't anyone coming back to the stadium. but for her, it was like she was in ancient something - turkey syria Crete or whatever and it had been millennia.
she was sure there was a doctor who about it - Rory and Amy. she put her head in her hand on the desk. she didn''t think it smelled as much like pee - the room, but she was hoping it wasn't just because she was accustomed to the smell. mrs. fisher's mysteries were on. it had rained. she knew there was a word for that smell - like spelechor or something.
she was a cool person. this person writing this. she wanted credit for making it all up- for being brave enough to say it - for being strong enough to imagine it - for being vulnerable, but she also was like dude she would have done it no matter what. it was the best company she had - this blank white mirror.
it was like that Michael stipe lyric, "... I know the barricades, I fitted them myself...."
and she had made a stir fry instead of going to the pizza place. she had bought Guinness. it was raining. she was again going to say it. she was
fucking interesting. she was kind. she was complicated. she was simple. she had made mistakes. she had tried. she was here...
she'd be like American music club's lyric and "let me replay that scene again and again...":
"look, I know you don't like to say anything besides what's a great tv show or movie or some fucking ephermal ..."
"It's actually ephemeral"
she stared at him like a mad puppy and continued, "but maybe you shouldn't have come down here and used this one day you choose to give me to see you in the holidays - apparently you're not doing anything with me on New Year's Eve - but that's another fucking argument of embarrassment to me - but here I was freaked out that I was not someone who mattered really to you - that I was a timekiller while you look on the apps for replacements or regurgitate old connections - and I just smiled and was so delighted to see you, and now you're about to leave and I don't feel any reassurance at all. I just feel like once again I'm left to suck it up because I choose you, and you don't choose me and all this shit I just said is a guess because you've never said anything."
"look. I probably shouldn''t have invited myself down here."
she was livid but still had a tiny bit of hope - a lot really, "are you fucking kidding me? I begged you to come and see me because I thought we could clear up the placeholder debacle."
"was it really a debacle."
"fuck you Leon."
"finally"
"like you even fuck in the daytime - well maybe you do, but never me."
"you've never asked."
"oh fuck you. wrong! when I ask you to make love to me, you freeze like someone eating slimy cold spinach. when I kiss you in daylight, you act like a statue. it wasn't welcome. I stopped."
"you could have just said."
she slammed down on the sofa. "I'm saying now. and I feel like I'm fucking it up, but I don't want to spend five more days when you're the text controller - because you'll text the world but not me - and I'm done waiting until Thursday or Friday or Saturday to see if you'll deign to see me - knowing I'll welcome you even if I had a life...."
"why don't you have more of a life."
"why don''t you just leave." she closed her eyes.
"can I stay a little longer?"
she kept them closed to try to keep control. "why?"
"Maybe if we sit here for a while and not talk - just listen to that radio show you always put on - and see if we can move past this."
she stared at him like a dagger - not really believing him, but knowing she loved him.
"I''ll try, but honestly, I am so raw and scared right now - and this feels just like another example of me having to just eat it - while you do whatever you do.''
He softened his voice and looked at her, "I know. I''m sorry."
she exhaled.
|
