It has been raining for almost a week now (besides Wednesday). I switched to Custer's Blend, slightly too sweet for me. We are not having a blast. "Blast is over-rated" I murmured. "Whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better."
I am inexperienced; thought temporary relief meant better for the good; and that it'd be easy to live with "When kicking off a vice, it is normal to take two steps forward and one back." You are naive, believe forever is an option, that love would be enough. At times I caught myself looking at you with a strange sense of unnamed hatred, especially the moment I step out of the metro and see you act like a booze hound so deeply dived in the self-loathing see that it is impossible to see the shore.
We are in different dimensions, both holding on to that one milligram of hope, and we are losing it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Perfect World
It stopped raining, finally, but it started snowing.... worse. It has been snowing for 2 days now, and it is ridiculously cold. It is overcast in the past 48 hours but it is not really sad. Instead, the clouds look like chunks and chunks of explosives that wait to explode at any given moment. I felt the energy hiding behind those clouds, dangerous and fetal. So, with the snow, Wisconsians sign, Californians scream. I walked into the classroom and they took at look at me and turned around to continue their conversation on the snow, in English, as if I was the only one in the room who doesn't speak English. Fine, whatever, they always do that to me. I am used to it by now. It must be strangely disturbing to talk to someone who wasn't born in the States while somewhat speak this language.
Miss Seattle was late, as usual. As she walking across to the room I was telling myself that she would sit next to B, then take out her lipstick and the tiny mirror, then the Avian water bottle; she would greet the Mr. Wisconsin next to her and the Californian behind her. I watched her sat down next to B, displayed her makeup kit, took a sip of the Avian and said hello to two of her friends in the class. I smiled. Human being are sometimes so predictable it is boring.
I kept switching my cell phone on and off since last night. A CDD thing? A revenge? A punishment? A well intended closure? No idea. I hate people who make promises and don't keep them. I always image cutting out their tongues with my Swiss army knife and then take out their wind pipe. I am not usually a violent person. What is the point of talking? Why bother speaking to me if all they did was spiting out void syllables? Why bother taking the time and energy? For the time being, they could have find a fine sex partner and have a fucking good afternoon. So, why bother? Homo sapiens. We can be pathetically hypocritical.
Lunch time. I was picking through rice with my fork. I wasn't hungry.
«So, how did it go? Did you talk?»
«What? With whom?»
«You know…. Your…. I don't know… someone that you know… an aquatint?» she raised her eyebrow. It was easy to label this person.
«Oh yeah…well, sorta.»
«So?»
«I don't know. It is gonna end soon.»
«Why? What did you say? What did you talk about? Was there any misunderstandings like you had thought?»
«No. Everything was actually fine. But, it is coming to an end, I just know. We are intuitive creatures.»
She nodded. Neither of us said a word for the rest of the lunch.
Library. I was trying to redo my applications because apparently I filled out the wrong form. I've got to get them in before the deadline…. Suddenly my cell started vibrating. I gasped, and dropped my pen. OK, it was P. «Coming over for lunch tomorrow?»
«Sure, thanks. Would you like me to bring anything?»
«Nah, just your laptop, we can watch a movie.»
«OK, see you tomorrow then.»
I needed a smoke right after that, so bad. Downstairs, against the strong wind, I took a long drag from my cigarette. It takes 7 seconds for the nicotine to reach the brain and start spreading its poison, but those 7 seconds seemed like an eternity. In the past few days, I had only two things in my head: «Every you and every me» by Placebo and «Fragile» by Têtes-Raides.
Home. Finally home. It was 10:47pm. I laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling. There is a crack on it, not very big, but long, and that makes it obvious. I had the strong desire to tear the ceiling apart following this crack because then, you will have two pieces, but each piece would be perfect.Let go
Since when a metro ride becomes a train of memories?
On the RER from downtown Paris to Versailles, I leaned my head against the window pane and watched the rain drops hitting the glass, splashing into smaller dots; those dots moved closer and closer to each other, eventually touched, formed a big dot that was heavy enough to finally glide down, leaving a silver trace. Repeat.
The train ran above ground and under ground alternatively, random graffiti flashed by, the monotonic color on the façades, this was like déja vu. Consciously, unconsciously, I was looking for a miraculous surprise, a familiar and yet strange face, a figure, a silhouette that I used to know. I found none, it is fine, it is expected. The only difference was I didn't have any expectation this time. I knew what I would see, what I would experience, my heart beat was regular. The rain kept splashing against the window pane. The glass was cold against my skin.
"ça va?"
I nodded, smiled, wasn't in the mood to speak. I ran my finger tip along the silver trace, lost in my dreams.
"Do you like it?"
"What?"
"Paris."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"It is a beautiful city, isn't it?"
"Sure, why not." I still preferred silence.
"I like it; it is so chic."
I smiled.
"Why don't you like it?"
"I don't hate it."
"Do you prefer another capital?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
I drew a line on the foggy glass, then 2 hoops next to it.
"Why?"
"It is not the city itself counts all for me."
"What?"
"It is time to get off, this is the stop."
Got caught in a sudden rain in the open garden of Versailles. Strong wind blew rain onto my face just like having a tattoo. There was no place to hide, I was far down at the end of the garden, at the bottom of the hill. There was so use to run for I was completely soaked. My coat became heavy; my jeans clued to my legs; I started laughing hysterically. When was the last time I let myself feel? The last time I let go?
When I finally got on the train, I could squeeze water out of my clothes. I couldn't stop shaking because the window on the train was broken and the wind didn't help. I couldn't decide whether to keep the coat on or take it off, well, it wouldn't make any difference, would it?
Snooze
"Dr. Ferrin will see you now." The secretary said to me and I pushed the door open accompanied with the familiar buzzing sound. Dr. Ferrin turned around in his armchair as I entered, he offered me a seat and looked at me with his elbows on the desk.
"The ER called this morning."
"I know."
"Self-inflicted behavior is difficult to stop, but we are working towards a better tomorrow."
"Sure. Why not."
Why did you do it?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Did you take your medication?"
"Yes."
"It didn't work?"
"It did make me sleepy."
"Why didn't you sleep?"
"I was thinking about doing it."
"What triggered it?"
"Nothing particular."
"How does that make you feel?"
"Sleepy."
"I don't mean the medication."
"Then it made me want to go to sleep."
"How was your day?"
"Fine."
"How were your classes?"
"I didn't go."
I don't recall the rest of the conversation. I was counting the Jack in the Box Super sized cup stacked up on his window sill. All of them were super sized cup, how many gallons of coke can one drink? There were about 20 of them, how long did it take him to finish almost 10 gallons of soda? How on earth did he open the window? Maybe he never opens the window. Fast food bags filled up the trash can. I liked his black leather armchair, it was super sized too and looked extremely comfy.
My phone started vibrating 2 minutes after I finished my session.
"Hello?"
"It is me! I am at the airport!"
"What?"
"It is me! I am at the airport!"
"What?"
"Come and get me."
My palms started sweating, and I held my cell phone in my hand as I ran all the way to the airport.
Arrival terminal one. There: T was still wearing the red scarf.
I don't remember what we spoke of, but we never ran out of things to tell. I had the impression that we didn't take any public transportation and we walked all the way to my flat, where we could be alone. On the 7th floor balcony, we sat on the swing and watched the sunset. After a bottle of wine and a great dinner, we both felt asleep on the sofa with our glasses still on but we woke up felt refreshed. I can't tell you when was the last time I woke up without feeling dizzy. Rays of sunshine seeped through light green curtain and sat on the wooden floor, the sweet smell coffee saturated the apartment. I joined T for an espresso and decided to go swimming in such a lovely day.
There we were, in our swimming costume, saying: " One, two , three, jump!" Right before my feet hit the water....
My alarm clock went off...NO, PLEASE NO, NOT NOW, I don't want to wake up now. I was searching for the snooze bottom with my eyes closed. My roommates were speaking loudly in the hallway. As I stumbled to the bathroom, there was a post-it on the mirror:" Call Dr. Ferrin today. T's funeral at 2pm."Non sense
Building another layer of cellophane on my cocoon; the air is full of spikes. Then I shrink wrap every syllable, for the words have blades. Empty promises have cut me right open and yet the truth doesn't always serve us good. I like my espresso hot, strong and raw. My happiness, gratitude, anger and pain are real. "It is sure that things are to be better, such conviction pulls me up from bed every dawn. And I need you." It is not me you need, it is the idea of me, the idea of a perfect being stands by your side as you rise and fall, but you don't know me. "I need you too." It is not you I need, it is the identity of you, a piece of you that ultimately separates from the rest because I know you. My idea and your identity are to be happy-ever-after, on theory, fair trade. It is never easy to put things in black and white. I look at certain things with tainted glasses, but it wasn't me who filtered my vision. Pincering a small hole on my cocoon, I am suffocating. I pace back and forth in this paradoxical dimension, prefer boots to sandals, and this is not me.
So
There won't be banquets or vows,
we are to be binded by feathers and wax,
she asked:" Is this the best
you can do?"
I shook my head -- the deal is yet to be sealed.
Took another day off from school,
another night off from sleeping ,
puzzling why the allergies,
why someone with no blue blood, no money
and full of scars
You stumbled through the door
said it'd be the only time;
he shook my shoulders
and kissed my red eyes.
Staring at the ceiling
you said:" Honey, there is no moon tonight."
"But it is OK. The street lamps are shining brilliantly."
then you hold my hand and declare
this is the only time.
we are to be binded by feathers and wax,
she asked:" Is this the best
you can do?"
I shook my head -- the deal is yet to be sealed.
Took another day off from school,
another night off from sleeping ,
puzzling why the allergies,
why someone with no blue blood, no money
and full of scars
You stumbled through the door
said it'd be the only time;
he shook my shoulders
and kissed my red eyes.
Staring at the ceiling
you said:" Honey, there is no moon tonight."
"But it is OK. The street lamps are shining brilliantly."
then you hold my hand and declare
this is the only time.
It smells like rain in the air
Leila sits in a bar next to her school having her first whisky at 4:30 in the afternoon. It is sunny outside but the heat would make her flush even more. She reads the text message again "Meet me for a drink tonight?" It was from Jake, someone she knows well even though they have only known each other for no more than a month. She plays the cell phone in her palm, hesitating to reply, but eventually sends out "Sure, come to Summer Blue."
Jake arrives, sits himself next to her on the couch. It is a green couch with white dots; it is a cozy couch. "So, how did it go?"
"I have filled out the application yesterday afternoon..."
"Finally!"
"And if nothing goes wrong, I should have the renewal of my paper in two weeks."
"Congratulations! That is good news."
"Yeah, thanks. How is your new apartment?"
"Good. It is messy, so I don't want my daughter to be in it until next weekend, after I clean up everything. After your paper, you will have more freedom."
"This freedom to stay has cost me, a lot."
"More than it should. Can I get you another one? Ballantine's double?"
"The only thing I drink. Thank you."
"If you ever need a place to spend the night to have some rest, you can come over. You know where I live."
"Thank you." She takes a sip from the glass, feels his hand on hers, "Leila, you have to leave. He is not good for you. "
"I know." She pulls away his hand, reaches the backpack to get some rolling tobacco and filters. "It is not the time. "
"Sooner is better. You can come and stay with me."
Leila could usually drink more, but today, after the third shot, she is more than buzzed. "I have to go. We will catch up later." She doesn't wait for his reply, stands up and leaves the bar. Just a couple of steps outside, her head starts to spin and she almost falls. She leans against the wall and sees Jake next to her. "I will accompany you back." They get into the metro; as the train brakes in the next station, her balance get thrown off, she finds herself in his arms. She kisses his lips and holds him tight. "I feel so fine with you Leila, I don't know why but I just do. " Somehow such statement wakes her up. She says that she would have to get off soon and thanks him for the company. She leaves him in the metro without saying goodbye and walks back to the flat as fast as she could. It is dark but warm inside, she hits the bed right away and the next thing she knows is when she wakes up at midnight, realizes she is still fully clothes and Christopher sitting in front of the TV but asleep. Leila turns on the light and reads until she can fall back to sleep again. The last time she looks at the clock it was 4AM. Then she is awaken by a phone call, from Simone.
"Want to take some coffee together?"
"I am still in bed, give me an hour. I need to take a shower."
"Alright. Meet me at the coffee shop on Fold Street in an hour or so?"
"Sure."
Leila can feel her head still spins as she walks down the street. It is raining and there is scarcely anyone on the street. Suppose everyone is still in bed at 9AM on Saturday morning.
"Tried to call you last night, but you didn't answer. I was wondering if you fancy to go theater with me."
"Yeah, I passed out quite early. Sorry about that. Did you go?"
"No. I stayed at home instead. How are you?"
"Having a hangover and you? Any news from your job applications?"
"I think I will continue to work with Christopher in his new office. It was surprisingly quick that he built up a new office in a month."
"Yes, it is."
"How is he?"
"I don't know. Haven't seen him really."
"The last time I saw him was a few days ago. I guess he is drinking less now, is he?"
"Can't tell you. I haven't really seen him."
"He took your threat of leaving serious didn't he?"
"I've never threatened him. And I am not the one to talk. Gulping down two bottles of Ballantine's every week and I can't keep up my weight. Who am I to talk about having a healthy life style?"
"Everything will be better after his new office starts running. He is trying his best to be the person you want him to be."
"What was the play about? Do you still want to go tonight?"
"I am working tonight. I can't believe that I am a lawyer and working in a bar. But it is a good bar though, in the theater and you meet interesting people."
"At least you don't hate it."
"Christopher told me that there was a new flat just became available down the street. Maybe I can go and take a look next week."
"Apartment hunting is a pain isn't it?"
"Yes it is."
Leila's phone starts to vibrate on the table. It is Christopher.
"Just call to say I love you."
"Eh... that is sweet of you. I am having coffee with Simone, want to join us?"
"No, thanks. I have to work. And I will be late tonight, but I will try to sleep in the flat OK?"
"OK."
"I need you."
"Good luck at work."
"Can I speak to Simone please? I need to give her the address of a flat she can visit next week." Leila hands over the phone, gives her a piece of paper and a pen.
"It will be around the corner! I am so excited."
"But you need to see it first right?"
"Yes, I really want a flat with balcony, this one has a balcony."
"That is nice."
"He sounded... well.. tipsy on the phone."
"Yep, party starts very early for him, and I hope he didn't give you the wrong address."
"Is he getting any better?"
"No. "
"But he will, right?"
"Don't know don't care."
"Are you giving it another shot?"
"I miss my single life. I fucking miss it. I miss living alone, come and go as I please, take a vacation whenever I want and have ONS with whom I want, when I want, where I want. If I don't feeling like doing dishes, I could just leave it. And if I want to be alone, I should be able to just be alone! This had been my life, but now I feel this part of me has gone missing, hibernated, died. It is not living with someone causes me pain, I just grieve over my single life."
Out of whim, Leila picks up the phone and calls Jake, asks him if she could come over. "It would be a pleasure." he replies.
"Are you having an affaire?"
"Simone, come on, me? No."
"Not yet?"
"Why does it matter? But it'd be my call."
"Cold blooded little thing! You play them like toys." She means it like a joke but it somehow doesn't feel like one to Leila.
So, this is the "revenge" you have been looking for? The way to take out your anxiety? The evidence of your liberty? Leila lies in bed, feeling Jake's hand running through her spine. Feist's album softly playing, window open, his paintings and portraits on the wall, this, all of this, is what had been missing. The art, an artistic side of someone. But out of blue, she gets dressed and is ready to leave.
"Stay. Just for a while."
"I have to go."
"Do I see you tomorrow? I will make us some nice meals and we can play video games, or take a walk.I can show you more of my work once I get everything unpacked."
"I don't know. Sorry, I really don't."
"Already feel lonely without you."
"Have a good afternoon. We will talk later."
Lying on the river bank, Leila doesn't pay attention to anyone, anything. She watching the clouds gathering above her. It smells like rain in the air.
Jake arrives, sits himself next to her on the couch. It is a green couch with white dots; it is a cozy couch. "So, how did it go?"
"I have filled out the application yesterday afternoon..."
"Finally!"
"And if nothing goes wrong, I should have the renewal of my paper in two weeks."
"Congratulations! That is good news."
"Yeah, thanks. How is your new apartment?"
"Good. It is messy, so I don't want my daughter to be in it until next weekend, after I clean up everything. After your paper, you will have more freedom."
"This freedom to stay has cost me, a lot."
"More than it should. Can I get you another one? Ballantine's double?"
"The only thing I drink. Thank you."
"If you ever need a place to spend the night to have some rest, you can come over. You know where I live."
"Thank you." She takes a sip from the glass, feels his hand on hers, "Leila, you have to leave. He is not good for you. "
"I know." She pulls away his hand, reaches the backpack to get some rolling tobacco and filters. "It is not the time. "
"Sooner is better. You can come and stay with me."
Leila could usually drink more, but today, after the third shot, she is more than buzzed. "I have to go. We will catch up later." She doesn't wait for his reply, stands up and leaves the bar. Just a couple of steps outside, her head starts to spin and she almost falls. She leans against the wall and sees Jake next to her. "I will accompany you back." They get into the metro; as the train brakes in the next station, her balance get thrown off, she finds herself in his arms. She kisses his lips and holds him tight. "I feel so fine with you Leila, I don't know why but I just do. " Somehow such statement wakes her up. She says that she would have to get off soon and thanks him for the company. She leaves him in the metro without saying goodbye and walks back to the flat as fast as she could. It is dark but warm inside, she hits the bed right away and the next thing she knows is when she wakes up at midnight, realizes she is still fully clothes and Christopher sitting in front of the TV but asleep. Leila turns on the light and reads until she can fall back to sleep again. The last time she looks at the clock it was 4AM. Then she is awaken by a phone call, from Simone.
"Want to take some coffee together?"
"I am still in bed, give me an hour. I need to take a shower."
"Alright. Meet me at the coffee shop on Fold Street in an hour or so?"
"Sure."
Leila can feel her head still spins as she walks down the street. It is raining and there is scarcely anyone on the street. Suppose everyone is still in bed at 9AM on Saturday morning.
"Tried to call you last night, but you didn't answer. I was wondering if you fancy to go theater with me."
"Yeah, I passed out quite early. Sorry about that. Did you go?"
"No. I stayed at home instead. How are you?"
"Having a hangover and you? Any news from your job applications?"
"I think I will continue to work with Christopher in his new office. It was surprisingly quick that he built up a new office in a month."
"Yes, it is."
"How is he?"
"I don't know. Haven't seen him really."
"The last time I saw him was a few days ago. I guess he is drinking less now, is he?"
"Can't tell you. I haven't really seen him."
"He took your threat of leaving serious didn't he?"
"I've never threatened him. And I am not the one to talk. Gulping down two bottles of Ballantine's every week and I can't keep up my weight. Who am I to talk about having a healthy life style?"
"Everything will be better after his new office starts running. He is trying his best to be the person you want him to be."
"What was the play about? Do you still want to go tonight?"
"I am working tonight. I can't believe that I am a lawyer and working in a bar. But it is a good bar though, in the theater and you meet interesting people."
"At least you don't hate it."
"Christopher told me that there was a new flat just became available down the street. Maybe I can go and take a look next week."
"Apartment hunting is a pain isn't it?"
"Yes it is."
Leila's phone starts to vibrate on the table. It is Christopher.
"Just call to say I love you."
"Eh... that is sweet of you. I am having coffee with Simone, want to join us?"
"No, thanks. I have to work. And I will be late tonight, but I will try to sleep in the flat OK?"
"OK."
"I need you."
"Good luck at work."
"Can I speak to Simone please? I need to give her the address of a flat she can visit next week." Leila hands over the phone, gives her a piece of paper and a pen.
"It will be around the corner! I am so excited."
"But you need to see it first right?"
"Yes, I really want a flat with balcony, this one has a balcony."
"That is nice."
"He sounded... well.. tipsy on the phone."
"Yep, party starts very early for him, and I hope he didn't give you the wrong address."
"Is he getting any better?"
"No. "
"But he will, right?"
"Don't know don't care."
"Are you giving it another shot?"
"I miss my single life. I fucking miss it. I miss living alone, come and go as I please, take a vacation whenever I want and have ONS with whom I want, when I want, where I want. If I don't feeling like doing dishes, I could just leave it. And if I want to be alone, I should be able to just be alone! This had been my life, but now I feel this part of me has gone missing, hibernated, died. It is not living with someone causes me pain, I just grieve over my single life."
Out of whim, Leila picks up the phone and calls Jake, asks him if she could come over. "It would be a pleasure." he replies.
"Are you having an affaire?"
"Simone, come on, me? No."
"Not yet?"
"Why does it matter? But it'd be my call."
"Cold blooded little thing! You play them like toys." She means it like a joke but it somehow doesn't feel like one to Leila.
So, this is the "revenge" you have been looking for? The way to take out your anxiety? The evidence of your liberty? Leila lies in bed, feeling Jake's hand running through her spine. Feist's album softly playing, window open, his paintings and portraits on the wall, this, all of this, is what had been missing. The art, an artistic side of someone. But out of blue, she gets dressed and is ready to leave.
"Stay. Just for a while."
"I have to go."
"Do I see you tomorrow? I will make us some nice meals and we can play video games, or take a walk.I can show you more of my work once I get everything unpacked."
"I don't know. Sorry, I really don't."
"Already feel lonely without you."
"Have a good afternoon. We will talk later."
Lying on the river bank, Leila doesn't pay attention to anyone, anything. She watching the clouds gathering above her. It smells like rain in the air.
Unkind
August 18, that was the last time I saw her. I was lying on the couch watching TV; Naomi was cooking; the door bell rang; I answered; it was Anna.
"Hi." she said.
"Hello..."I hadn't seen her for five years.
"Are you busy? Would you like to take a stroll?"
Naomi came out of the kitchen: "Who is it?"
"An old friend of mine, I'll be back soon." I didn't wait for her answer. I walked out the door with Anna.
Anna and I have never been, well, officially, "together". We got along fine but I never loved her. Perhaps I was frivolous, or we were both financially unstable, or I wanted someone more politically active, or I preferred someone Irish-Italian like me. I don't really know. I met her in a coffee shop in San Francisco when I was working for a local newspaper in the area; she was in town for an exam. We spent a couple of days visiting the bay area and Berkeley. We didn't get into touch after her San Francisco trip until seven years ago, when I decided to move back to upstate New York but before that, I wanted to visit Europe. Anna had moved to France to continue her studies I thus dug up her email address and told her that I was coming. My original plan was to stay in France for a couple of days and then spend the rest of my sabbatical year in Italy and eastern Europe; it wasn't a fixed plan though. Besides the two weeks I was in eastern Europe, I ended up spending the rest of the summer with her. I accompanied her moving around in France, taking different exams in divers cities and an interview in Berlin. We were technically living together for 2 months, until I was completely broke. I came back to New York after 3 months' of Euro trip.
"How are you? Are you still a journalist?"
"I am alright. I am working in real estate business right now. And I am living with someone as you know..."
"Don't worry about it. I am not here to give you any drama."
"What are you doing here?"
"I am changing flights here, so I thought I'd stop and say hi. I am surprised that you haven't moved."
"Just stop and say hi, after five years?"
"Yeah, why not, I don't hate you anymore."
It must be a girl thing. A lot of times when they say:" I hate you.", they mean the opposite. She was saying that all summer long. About a week after I left Europe, she suddenly asked me how I felt about her. I told her that I had never fallen for her and I was sorry to be so blunt, I thought she'd like to know. There was a short silence on the phone, then she said that she had sensed it all along but needed to hear it from me, and all this time she was saying:" I am your entertainment." she really meant it. "Thank you for your honesty, and now I need to go out and get some air." That was the penultimate we spoke. It had been five years.
"I am sure you don't."
She paused the promenade for a second: "No, you didn't understand, I really hated you."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it, it's all gone now. I just wanted to say hello and see how you are doing these days, after so long."
"No no, you hated me? Why?"
"I thought you were unkind."
"Unkind?" I was anything but unkind. When I was in France, I gave her financial support, helped her moved from Nice to Strasburg, had my share of cooking and cleaning the apartment; I was anything but unkind.
"Unkind?" I asked her, "how? what?"
"Are we obliged to have this discussion right now?"
"I would really like to know."
"You led me up to my heartbreak."
"You asked me to be honest with you on the phone."
"Hence the word 'led'. When we were on the phone, you stated that you didn't feel what I did. You knew exactly how I felt and you kept misleading me till the end: we shared a bed for more than two months; you paid part of my tuition; we went all over France and I was happy. But you have fooled me, you have fooled everyone around me. You remained inscrutable, proud of your "impossible-to-read" idiosyncrasy. I still don't know what your intention was, but you never had the courtesy to warn me that our feelings were not mutual. It was easy to hurt me, I was naive and sincere. For a long time, I sensed only anger. Did you treat me like a prostitute? Paid to have no-string-attached sex under the name of 'having a company'. Was I part of your package deal when you purchased your flight to Europe? I then was angry at myself. How could I let this happen to me? It was hatred. Everything turned into hatred overnight after that conversation. Maybe it didn't change anything for you because you never had to go through the step of 'move on'. Sometimes I wondered if you were ever capable of loving another human being. Then a funny thought suddenly came to mind: did you stay with me because you were doing the same thing when you were twenty years old with that woman in Plattsburgh? You needed a place to stay and to sort out you part of your life."
"What the hell? How could you? I had absolutely no intention to ... I didn't stay with you because I needed a roof. I was honest on the phone because you wanted to know, and you said that our conversation shouldn't change anything."
"Why does it matter now? It has been so long. I am honest because I thought you wanted to know too."
"It matters, it matters. It is unfair to say that I didn't care about you."
"Hey I heard that sentence before."
"I was sincere too." Wasn't I?
"Ok."
"Ok? Don't be sarcastic."
"I didn't come here to fight."
"Well, too late. Now I am intrigued to know, how did I become so contemptible after that so-called 'feeling' conversation? You can't hate me just because I didn't feel the same way you did. Love is not a mirror, when you look inside, it doesn't always reflect ..."
"I know. Trust me, I know."
"Fine, it is all part of the past now. But I still want to know what else did I do wrong?"
"It is not about right or wrong."
"You know what I mean. It is only a conversation. We talk about the past, which maybe doesn't mean much to either of us anymore."
"Conversation. Do you remember that after you told me that you didn't feel the same, you said:' but you will do this again sometime, with someone else.' I don't think it meant to be an insult, but I felt it was one. There I was, deserted in your mind game and while was still in love with you; you already pictured me being with someone else, as if the entire summer meant nothing special. And of course, I never wanted to do 'this' again, I never wanted to be toyed, or experienced such heartbreak again. I didn't want to be your fuck buddy anymore and for a long time I was not even sure if I wanted to be your friend any longer. You said that you cared, about my boobs or my ass? You said that I was 'interpreting' when you said:' we are playing.' Should I not? I deleted all your pictures, our pictures, your videos, our videos and I wrote you a 'closure letter' which of course I never sent out. I put the letter in an envelope, and inside I included the album project we had. On the cover I wrote:' You have hurt me, you had your fun and now fuck off'. I buried the letter under a chestnut tree near the apartment we used to share. And that was it. But people change, people move on, I don't hate you anymore. Consider some of my thoughts to be just livid monologues. Yes, there were things that we did were memorable and the things that you did that I felt grateful. I am glad that you suddenly fell into my basement five years ago, but yet, nothing is perfect. "
She smiled, I didn't know how to react. On the train from Lille to Toulouse she said that she would be the most fun that I was ever going to have, she wasn't lying. All the games we used to play in the shower; swimming with goggles on in the Mediterranean Sea; funky graffiti we drew on the bathroom wall; singing out loud during the breakfast and the album project: we made a 5-CD album with 69 song titles, including an overture and a reprise. She changed the album title from "A color-blind man fell into my basement" to "Falliage". I never fathomed why until three months after I left her.
"Beautiful foliage you have in New York."
"Yes."
"How long have you been living together?"
"About two months."
"Did you meet her in a coffee shop too?"
"Yes I did. I really didn't meant to have things turned out this way."
"Listen. It doesn't matter now. We have different perspectives, and I was your entertainment. I am mostly people's entertainment anyway."
"Don't say that."
"Ok."
We walked down the streets with little spoken until sunset. Absurd sense of grief rose in me for I became dwindle to her. I was lost in such a strange divulgence of myself: myriad things that I have done without rational motifs or unconsciously. I didn't hurt her in purpose, but was I really kind to let her continue to hold on the false affection hoping that she would never bring up this subject; hoping that I could be her friend-with-benefits whenever I go to Europe; hoping that she would always have a place for me to stay while I was vacationing? And why was I there with her? What was I doing with Naomi?
"How long are you in town for? I should go back, Naomi must be waiting for me."
"Ok, have a good night then. I am leaving in an hour to the airport. I am flying back to Frankfurt tonight."
"Have a good trip."
"Thanks."
"It was nice to see you again." I really meant it.
"Yeah, me too."
We stood face to face for a while. I wish that I had at least held her for a second but instead, I shook her hand.
That was August 18, the last time I saw her.
"Hi." she said.
"Hello..."I hadn't seen her for five years.
"Are you busy? Would you like to take a stroll?"
Naomi came out of the kitchen: "Who is it?"
"An old friend of mine, I'll be back soon." I didn't wait for her answer. I walked out the door with Anna.
Anna and I have never been, well, officially, "together". We got along fine but I never loved her. Perhaps I was frivolous, or we were both financially unstable, or I wanted someone more politically active, or I preferred someone Irish-Italian like me. I don't really know. I met her in a coffee shop in San Francisco when I was working for a local newspaper in the area; she was in town for an exam. We spent a couple of days visiting the bay area and Berkeley. We didn't get into touch after her San Francisco trip until seven years ago, when I decided to move back to upstate New York but before that, I wanted to visit Europe. Anna had moved to France to continue her studies I thus dug up her email address and told her that I was coming. My original plan was to stay in France for a couple of days and then spend the rest of my sabbatical year in Italy and eastern Europe; it wasn't a fixed plan though. Besides the two weeks I was in eastern Europe, I ended up spending the rest of the summer with her. I accompanied her moving around in France, taking different exams in divers cities and an interview in Berlin. We were technically living together for 2 months, until I was completely broke. I came back to New York after 3 months' of Euro trip.
"How are you? Are you still a journalist?"
"I am alright. I am working in real estate business right now. And I am living with someone as you know..."
"Don't worry about it. I am not here to give you any drama."
"What are you doing here?"
"I am changing flights here, so I thought I'd stop and say hi. I am surprised that you haven't moved."
"Just stop and say hi, after five years?"
"Yeah, why not, I don't hate you anymore."
It must be a girl thing. A lot of times when they say:" I hate you.", they mean the opposite. She was saying that all summer long. About a week after I left Europe, she suddenly asked me how I felt about her. I told her that I had never fallen for her and I was sorry to be so blunt, I thought she'd like to know. There was a short silence on the phone, then she said that she had sensed it all along but needed to hear it from me, and all this time she was saying:" I am your entertainment." she really meant it. "Thank you for your honesty, and now I need to go out and get some air." That was the penultimate we spoke. It had been five years.
"I am sure you don't."
She paused the promenade for a second: "No, you didn't understand, I really hated you."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it, it's all gone now. I just wanted to say hello and see how you are doing these days, after so long."
"No no, you hated me? Why?"
"I thought you were unkind."
"Unkind?" I was anything but unkind. When I was in France, I gave her financial support, helped her moved from Nice to Strasburg, had my share of cooking and cleaning the apartment; I was anything but unkind.
"Unkind?" I asked her, "how? what?"
"Are we obliged to have this discussion right now?"
"I would really like to know."
"You led me up to my heartbreak."
"You asked me to be honest with you on the phone."
"Hence the word 'led'. When we were on the phone, you stated that you didn't feel what I did. You knew exactly how I felt and you kept misleading me till the end: we shared a bed for more than two months; you paid part of my tuition; we went all over France and I was happy. But you have fooled me, you have fooled everyone around me. You remained inscrutable, proud of your "impossible-to-read" idiosyncrasy. I still don't know what your intention was, but you never had the courtesy to warn me that our feelings were not mutual. It was easy to hurt me, I was naive and sincere. For a long time, I sensed only anger. Did you treat me like a prostitute? Paid to have no-string-attached sex under the name of 'having a company'. Was I part of your package deal when you purchased your flight to Europe? I then was angry at myself. How could I let this happen to me? It was hatred. Everything turned into hatred overnight after that conversation. Maybe it didn't change anything for you because you never had to go through the step of 'move on'. Sometimes I wondered if you were ever capable of loving another human being. Then a funny thought suddenly came to mind: did you stay with me because you were doing the same thing when you were twenty years old with that woman in Plattsburgh? You needed a place to stay and to sort out you part of your life."
"What the hell? How could you? I had absolutely no intention to ... I didn't stay with you because I needed a roof. I was honest on the phone because you wanted to know, and you said that our conversation shouldn't change anything."
"Why does it matter now? It has been so long. I am honest because I thought you wanted to know too."
"It matters, it matters. It is unfair to say that I didn't care about you."
"Hey I heard that sentence before."
"I was sincere too." Wasn't I?
"Ok."
"Ok? Don't be sarcastic."
"I didn't come here to fight."
"Well, too late. Now I am intrigued to know, how did I become so contemptible after that so-called 'feeling' conversation? You can't hate me just because I didn't feel the same way you did. Love is not a mirror, when you look inside, it doesn't always reflect ..."
"I know. Trust me, I know."
"Fine, it is all part of the past now. But I still want to know what else did I do wrong?"
"It is not about right or wrong."
"You know what I mean. It is only a conversation. We talk about the past, which maybe doesn't mean much to either of us anymore."
"Conversation. Do you remember that after you told me that you didn't feel the same, you said:' but you will do this again sometime, with someone else.' I don't think it meant to be an insult, but I felt it was one. There I was, deserted in your mind game and while was still in love with you; you already pictured me being with someone else, as if the entire summer meant nothing special. And of course, I never wanted to do 'this' again, I never wanted to be toyed, or experienced such heartbreak again. I didn't want to be your fuck buddy anymore and for a long time I was not even sure if I wanted to be your friend any longer. You said that you cared, about my boobs or my ass? You said that I was 'interpreting' when you said:' we are playing.' Should I not? I deleted all your pictures, our pictures, your videos, our videos and I wrote you a 'closure letter' which of course I never sent out. I put the letter in an envelope, and inside I included the album project we had. On the cover I wrote:' You have hurt me, you had your fun and now fuck off'. I buried the letter under a chestnut tree near the apartment we used to share. And that was it. But people change, people move on, I don't hate you anymore. Consider some of my thoughts to be just livid monologues. Yes, there were things that we did were memorable and the things that you did that I felt grateful. I am glad that you suddenly fell into my basement five years ago, but yet, nothing is perfect. "
She smiled, I didn't know how to react. On the train from Lille to Toulouse she said that she would be the most fun that I was ever going to have, she wasn't lying. All the games we used to play in the shower; swimming with goggles on in the Mediterranean Sea; funky graffiti we drew on the bathroom wall; singing out loud during the breakfast and the album project: we made a 5-CD album with 69 song titles, including an overture and a reprise. She changed the album title from "A color-blind man fell into my basement" to "Falliage". I never fathomed why until three months after I left her.
"Beautiful foliage you have in New York."
"Yes."
"How long have you been living together?"
"About two months."
"Did you meet her in a coffee shop too?"
"Yes I did. I really didn't meant to have things turned out this way."
"Listen. It doesn't matter now. We have different perspectives, and I was your entertainment. I am mostly people's entertainment anyway."
"Don't say that."
"Ok."
We walked down the streets with little spoken until sunset. Absurd sense of grief rose in me for I became dwindle to her. I was lost in such a strange divulgence of myself: myriad things that I have done without rational motifs or unconsciously. I didn't hurt her in purpose, but was I really kind to let her continue to hold on the false affection hoping that she would never bring up this subject; hoping that I could be her friend-with-benefits whenever I go to Europe; hoping that she would always have a place for me to stay while I was vacationing? And why was I there with her? What was I doing with Naomi?
"How long are you in town for? I should go back, Naomi must be waiting for me."
"Ok, have a good night then. I am leaving in an hour to the airport. I am flying back to Frankfurt tonight."
"Have a good trip."
"Thanks."
"It was nice to see you again." I really meant it.
"Yeah, me too."
We stood face to face for a while. I wish that I had at least held her for a second but instead, I shook her hand.
That was August 18, the last time I saw her.
Poker
everyone asks me to leave,
"everyone" is from There.
they tell me that you love me,
"they" are from Here.
everyone asks me what you have done to me,
they ask me what I have done to you.
conspiracy,
art of seduction,
controlling issue,
business.
sitting in your office and pouring my heart
watching you losing on your online poker
how much am I willing to bet
in this marathon game
where the truth lies
and lies six-feet-under.
you said that maybe I was an angel
that you wanted me to stay
that we had a future together;
I said that in fact I was real
that I would like to stay
that the future was unknown
you said that at times you didn't remember
what you had drunk
what you had said
what you had revealed
I said that unfortunately
I couldn't say the same
the last time I marked my whim
with a kitchen knife
you smashed your beloved whisky
against the wall
pounded the sofa --
"there is no possibility left;
we have become so distant;
I can't feel your love;
an end would serve us good."
I came towards your scream
extending my bleeding arm
you turned away and lit a smoke
breaking down on the phone
never had I seen you cry
so desperately
as if there was a monster inside
ripping you apart
we started a story
we couldn't continue
to live with the insanity
of each other
to live with my blades and your spirits
as I held you on my chest
I read that it could be the last time
you left with a sigh
with me alone playing
images back and forth in my head
and I dialed your number
there was sheer voice mail
reminded me the only other time
you woke up next to a strange naked body
I packed my case
waiting for time to end our case
waiting for you to end your conscious
with vodka and apple juice
as you finally opened the door
having another break-down
speaking non-sense
crying sans-cessé
declaiming the urge to leave
yet you stayed tonight
in this fifteen square meters of
what had become nothing
but memories
"everyone" is from There.
they tell me that you love me,
"they" are from Here.
everyone asks me what you have done to me,
they ask me what I have done to you.
conspiracy,
art of seduction,
controlling issue,
business.
sitting in your office and pouring my heart
watching you losing on your online poker
how much am I willing to bet
in this marathon game
where the truth lies
and lies six-feet-under.
you said that maybe I was an angel
that you wanted me to stay
that we had a future together;
I said that in fact I was real
that I would like to stay
that the future was unknown
you said that at times you didn't remember
what you had drunk
what you had said
what you had revealed
I said that unfortunately
I couldn't say the same
the last time I marked my whim
with a kitchen knife
you smashed your beloved whisky
against the wall
pounded the sofa --
"there is no possibility left;
we have become so distant;
I can't feel your love;
an end would serve us good."
I came towards your scream
extending my bleeding arm
you turned away and lit a smoke
breaking down on the phone
never had I seen you cry
so desperately
as if there was a monster inside
ripping you apart
we started a story
we couldn't continue
to live with the insanity
of each other
to live with my blades and your spirits
as I held you on my chest
I read that it could be the last time
you left with a sigh
with me alone playing
images back and forth in my head
and I dialed your number
there was sheer voice mail
reminded me the only other time
you woke up next to a strange naked body
I packed my case
waiting for time to end our case
waiting for you to end your conscious
with vodka and apple juice
as you finally opened the door
having another break-down
speaking non-sense
crying sans-cessé
declaiming the urge to leave
yet you stayed tonight
in this fifteen square meters of
what had become nothing
but memories
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)