O (Part 3 of 10)

He kisses me on the cheek first and then on the lips. This is what he always does.  And if he leaves before I do he always gives me a kiss.  I have no idea why since it is never long before we see one another again.  His kiss is exactly the same whether he is kissing me goodbye or hello, whether it is in the morning or right before bed, whether he just saw me 30 minutes ago or whether he’s come back from a long visit away with his family.  Always the cheek first, close to the corner of my mouth and then on the lips.  Half the time his lips are chapped and cracking and I hate the way they feel against mine but I never tell him this.  I never would have imagined the span of a few seconds can feel so tortuous. 

My memories are funny things and sometimes when I close my eyes to remember or I look through old photo albums – its weird being able to remember when photos existed more in binders and clear plastic sheets than on computers and phones – I can feel exactly how I felt during those moments.  But when I close the book or open my eyes the feelings leave in an instant and even though I know this is going to happen it is still always somehow a surprise.  I am detached from both the people in those old photos and what’s around me has started to look decayed.  There’s a dull throbbing between my temples and more and more it sparks a sudden rush of panic and my brain’s instant defense response – deniability – has become almost completely ineffective. 

Yet there is so much beauty to be found around me if I look close and if I have the will.  I want to create and give life to new and exciting things.  It springs forth from my fingertips without effort sometimes.  The image is in my brain and then it is reality and I can give it to someone and see them smile.  Or sometimes it is not effortless at all and it is grueling and painful but I love that too and there is almost nothing more to which I’d rather devote my time.  Why are we denied so much of this? 

I made you a scarf.  I don’t know why I did not tell him this.  I’ve made things for many people before.  What was different about this?  I only worked on it when he wasn’t around and even though it was only gray and black I spent a silly amount of time looking at different shades.  It took about five times as long to make as it should have and I loved every second of its creation.  I hid it in my purse one morning; wrapped it in paper and placed it underneath my gloves and checkbook and little orange bottles of pills.  My insides fluttered in a way I did not think possible anymore on the day I gave it to you.  I waited until no one else was around.  You said you loved it and I believe you.  It is a moment I travel back to often but only when I’m alone. 

On Sunday mornings I worship and I pray and then I spend the rest of my time sinning.  I don’t ask for forgiveness anymore.  Maybe that doesn’t make me as much of a hypocrite as I used to be but I imagine it’s all the same to God.  I don’t want to pretend.  I love both of you more than anything and that will never change.  Every morning I wake up and I still feel the same pride and happiness as on the first days that I knew you and the first days when we finally met.  But neither of you are going to be with me for much longer.  I don’t think I’ll be able to pretend when you’re gone.  That’s the fear that presses down on my chest in the middle of the night and makes my heart beat a little faster around closing time where our roles become more defined and far less easy to hide from. 

There is much more than this.  You were right when you said that to me.  Even though it’s something I’ve known for years I keep that thought locked up tight somewhere.  But why did you say that? How could you have such desperation in your eyes?  How could you feel exactly what I’m feeling?

I said you shouldn’t be walking.  I can give you a ride there.  That’s what I wanted to say.  There would be no harm in that.  I can give you ride and make sure you’re safe.  I’ll turn on the radio or put on something from my phone and we can talk about music.  You can tell if you liked that book.  You can tell me where you grew up.  We can talk about where we would go. 

I only feign indifference.  You must realize that on some level.  I want you to be happy.  This desire was unexpected and wonderful.  I’m not allowed to feel it but sometimes I let it happen just for a little while.  If nothing else I want you to remember that I wish you heaven.  I don’t know why it’s important to me but maybe if that’s all there is then maybe that will be enough.  When so many weeks pass by I start to worry we will never see each other again but this is never true.  You never stay away for too long.  I don’t allow myself to indulge but someone joked – thankfully not to him – that you are weak and powerless and in love.  I allowed myself to believe that for a day.  I experienced more happiness than I’d ever dreamed.  Then I banished those feelings.   

This is all only fantasy.  A wish fulfillment of the saddest and most obvious kind.  Of course, I am incapable of truly understanding.  This is all shattered ego and tortured desire screaming for attention.  But it is nothing worthy of a second thought. 

You told me once that you liked to paint.  I would love to see one of your paintings.  

O (Part 2 of 10)

It is night and I am swimming.  There is a voice I can barely hear against the crashing waves and it brings me comfort.  The moon is reflected on me and through its glow I can see dolphins break the surface and crash through below once more. 

I do not know how long I’ve waited; it could be millions of years as easily as it could be a day.  But I know I’ve been waiting to meet you.  I have heard your laugh against the waves.  I have seen your face when looking up at the stars and though I can never quite make out the color of your eyes I can see they easily top any pairing of sun and sky and anything descending over the horizon.  I swear I’ve felt your touch in those moments where I dare to dream.  And I have seen the waves of glorious black, a black darker than the ocean’s depths.  That I may touch those waves and ride along one is the wonderful desire that gives me the strength and resolve to push and fight and always stay near the surface. I have the overwhelming sensation that something is going to change. 

At once the sun is white and blinding.  Perhaps thrown by the hand of God or maybe just a brush stroke on his canvas, the scattering of molecules paints a portrait in blue for me and it feels like it is for the very first time.  Everyone is crashing around me and I know many of them are terrified of what may happen but I do not feel this way.  I am ready. 

My world becomes light and we are scattered and thrust up into the air.  The place I called home, the only place I ever knew, is now below me and every second it is farther away. For the very first time in my life I know what it feels like to be completely alone and it is a wondrous thing.  It is a feeling I will remember for all time but it is not how this will end.  I was born to touch you. 

I look around and see millions of souls with whom I shared my existence.  We are all burning and many are screaming and sometimes those screams still echo as they completely vanish from this life.  Others have a look of such heightened pleasure and they inhale that heat and it fills their bodies and transforms them and drives them higher.  The matter is only changed, it never completely goes away.  I breathe in the heat and my love and my devotion survive this initial transformation stronger than before. 

I see such wonders from up here.  My home stretches out untold miles in all directions and is magnificent but what is now in my line of sight and above is truly infinite and home to wonders which seem just as endless.  For a moment I witness the pillars of creation, these interstellar works of art.  But I can look away because what awaits me is greater.  I see now with so much more clarity those night stars, the suns that fulfill their central role to their respective galaxies.  How many are there just lying in wait under one of those suns, lying in wait for their moment? 

And I am moving, I am flying without wings and I can smell my former home and it is a good memory.  I see now the shores and the sand and still our span is stretching out, going further inward.  I can feel you are much closer and I will not yet be lost and allow myself to leave as so many around me have done.  I pass hills and mountains and fields of flowers.  There are moments where I feel as though I flicker in and out of existence but I do not panic, you are near and I will not have come this far only to fail now. 

Everything is dark and there is a cacophony that nearly deafens me, brilliant bursts of light flash all around me.  I am ready.  I know this is not heaven.  You are below.  I am transformed again and at once I am falling.  Everyone else falls around me and I no longer see any familiar faces.  As when we were first going up many of them are screaming but I am still not afraid.  The light continues to flash all around us, racing to the bottom and back again and beating us every time.  I start to laugh, how can I not?  This new world is coming into sharp focus. 

And I hit.  I collide with steel and the impact is tremendous but there is no pain and I am able to keep myself from separating.  There is something almost musical in the sound of those around me striking this structure and striking the earth.  I allow myself only a passing second to wonder where their own journeys will take them.  Some nearby have joined together and are threatening to overtake me but I do not let them.  With all my strength I push forward and then I am sliding down and down.  I stop, just on the edge. 

And I see you.

You are shielding yourself, allowing no one to come near.  You are more beautiful than in my dreams.  Your smile alone has made the entire journey and everything leading up to it worthwhile.  I pray that you are not some illusion but then you laugh and the sound is pure joy and blissfully real.  And finally there are those glorious waves of black, darker than the roaring sky or all the space which contains those once seen stars, darker than the bottom of the ocean. 

Just a bit more, just a centimeter more.  I trace your movement and I can see I will only have one chance.  Others are advancing but this is not their story, this is not their love.  Now.  A split second before you move I jump and once more I am falling.  The distance is mere a fraction of my previous descent but I swear the time that elapses is far greater.  Oh please. 

I am inside.  I am inside and everything is you and it is glorious.  Everything that makes up your body, I taste.  It merges with me and I am breathing in your spirit, your love.  It is ecstasy.  But I begin to slide down.  I do my best to keep hold but I am unable and I slide down to the end.  I hang there and I am transfixed by the sight of your eyes.  There are oceans and stars inside there as well, full of colors that have not yet been identified.  I don’t want to leave but I cannot hang on for much longer.  This is the only moment in my life I can ever remember feeling truly terrified.  I pray to please not fall; please do not pull me away from this.  But then a gesture of natural grace – a motion you must enact everyday – the waves are swept back and I am closer than ever.  The air around me is perfume.  The only sounds I will ever hear now are your honeyed voice and your laughter.  All I will ever see now is this impossible and perfect black.  All I will ever touch and taste is you.  I am safe.  I am home.

O (Part 1 of 10)

Of course I can’t remember when it began. 

I wandered the streets and had no idea where I was going.  The alleyways and avenues were twisted distortions of places I once knew.  Roads either stretched out to dead ends or all the way to the horizon line where they disappeared forever.  The shops and stores were tilted and in bizarre shapes, their architecture quite impossible yet they presented themselves as friendly and welcoming, the colors vibrant and I do believe there was music playing in the background.  I saw the restaurant and it looked nothing like itself but I knew it was the right place.

There may or may not have been a door at the entrance.  If there was it might have been one of those double swinging doors like the kind often seen in old Westerns.  I found a booth and took a seat.  The walls were blue. 

I would recognize you anywhere.  It starts in waves which are black as coal.  And then there is an angelic white, like bed sheets.  In the center of everything are twin oceans whose color I cannot identify. 

Maybe it started because I needed to come out of the rain.  Did you pretend not to know me at first?  It was playful and heartbreaking.  But there was just the tease of a smile at the corner of your lips and that was enough.  The drinks were strong and you said so very little. 

You told me to come back later.  You spoke in a language I should not have understood but this did not matter.  I asked for a more specific time but you did not give me one.  You said you would let me know. 

I wanted to see you but I promised myself I would not do this anymore.  That promise was a lie, just as I knew it would be.  It’s not a matter of strength of ethics or personal resolve.  Whether or not I possess self control is irrelevant.  My joy and my desire are diseased things that can’t help but intermingle.  They whisper in my ear and the sound is so sweet. 

The phone rang and I ran up the stairs to answer.   I somehow knew it would be your voice yet I felt terrified.  Was it unthinkable the sentiment might be shared?  Are we going to be here for much longer?  Is there a prayer of a chance? 

But it was you and hearing the voice through the phone for the first time was exciting in a way I did not anticipate.  You apologized for calling on my home phone and said you did not have the number for my cell.  I was momentarily confused as I did not remember even having a home phone but I let this confusion pass as it did not ultimately matter. 

“I’m still at the restaurant,” you said. 

My heart accelerated.  I did not say anything.  A word – any word at all – from my mouth would perhaps shatter this fantasy, leaving only the gray and indifferent reality in its wake. 

You continued, “You should come in again.  For a drink.  No one else is here.”

It was not a short drive.  I would speed.  The highway would not have much traffic at this hour.

“I’ll wait,” you said. 

“But…won’t someone care that you’re having drinks with me?” The phrasing of question was undeniably poor, certain words caught in my throat and refused release. 

“Absolutely.  He’ll care very much.  Which is why you’re not going to tell anyone.  I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.”

I don’t remember driving there.  I can recall a single image of the glow of street lights smeared across the sky like it was paint on a canvas.  The sky was a navy blue. 

I entered and you were standing by our booth.  There were two glasses on the table.  There was the same radiance which had been present in our very first encounter, the same which was present in every subsequent moment we’ve shared. 

Everything in a haze.  That we were sitting across from one another and having a conversation was something that never could have happened.  And yet there we were.  The duration of one drink.  Was there a universe created somewhere in that span of time?  Were perhaps billions of lives undone and put back together in new configurations?  Or maybe only two lives.  Two would be enough.  Only a few minutes but those minutes mean more than entire years of life.  Details shared and it is the most intimate thing imaginable to know that no one else exists for that span of time. 

And then it was over.  It had to be.  But I did not yet feel myself slipping away.  There was still that smile and perhaps a promise that this was only the beginning.  The word “always” came to mind and I felt warm and safe.  I felt peace.  And love.  I wish I could remember if we hugged.  I do not recall how we said goodbye. 

There were no more stars after I left.  I imagine we were both looking at the same thing.  It’s hard not to wonder where your hopes went at the dawn.  There were tears of regret and tears of betrayal.  They were calm and slow and accompanied with a silent asking for forgiveness. 

The days are going to turn away from us again and no one will see where we are or what is inside.  I am certain it is for the best and I even feel thankful.  But underneath all of that is a crippling desire to begin again.    

Even if there is nothing else I still have so many pages which were first seen by your eyes.  I will follow through all these worlds to which you have ventured.  Maybe you even left something in one of them for me. 

I know my words need to be like water until this is all gone.  I want to thank John for showing me how.