My life has never felt so disgusting, so absurd, so enchanted.
But then, I've never met anyone quite like him.
I don't love him. I barely even like him. But somehow I can't keep myself away from him- he has a force about him that is constantly drawing me in, deeper and deeper, until I'm lost into his will.
I was working at a small law practice in Virginia when we met. I filed and typed... I wasn't trained to do anything specific and I couldn't get a job anywhere else. After barely finishing high school I left the average, dysfunctional family I couldn't stand in New York. I still haven't heard from them- they're probably just happy they have one less mouth to feed. The law office paid me minimum wage and it paid the rent on the shit hole I called an apartment. I rented a room in a nasty old building, the kind with a bathroom down the hall and mold on the walls that gave the air a heavy, milky quality.
Every day I walked to the apartment- I couldn't bear to think of such and awful place as home- after work, and every day I passed him standing outside another apartment building that was nicer than mine, but only barely. I had been passing him for seven months when I heard him speak for the first time.
"You got a light?"
His voice was smooth and creamy, and his words slipped over me like oil. Normally I wouldn't speak to a stranger on the sidewalk, especially not a man, but his voice made me stop dead in my tracks and fumble about for a lighter that I knew I didn't have. When my pockets turned up empty he grinned at me and I noticed he had dimples. "No sweat," he said cheerfully, and his voice again made me shudder.
He was tall, but not for an average man. He had a face shaped face and skin colored skin, and stood as if he was waiting for nothing in the world. I found myself despairing that I could not give him what he wanted, and smiled back waveringly, shame making my eyes burn.
My brain screamed at me, but I felt cool numbness spreading all over my body as I invited him to my apartment. He smiled again, shrugged, and walked next to me, our shoulders touching the entire way. I felt slow and stupid, and could not bring myself to say a word to him. He just walked, eyes in front, as if he were already where he was going.
I had a boyfriend in high school for a few weeks, but he moved to Connecticut. Other than that short relationship, I avoided men. Men were powerful, imposing creatures. Men were the people on television that made the decisions and started the jokes, and I never knew how to deal with any of them. The men my mother brought home were always rough and angry, with grubby hands and greedy eyes that stared holes into me as if I were an exhibit in a museum. My brothers were pointless assholes. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the ground, avoiding the gum and bird shit that coated the sidewalk in front of my place.
The silence continued as we walked up the stairs and I fumbled with my keys at the door. When the door was open, he shouldered into my room and sat neutrally in a folding chair. He stared into the air in front of him as if he weren't seeing anything around.
I was suddenly exhausted. Without even closing the door or taking off my shoes, I flopped onto the bed and let the sweet oblivion of sleep overwhelm me.
I woke up gradually, easing out of the deepest sleep I'd had in months.
He still sat there, but now his eyes traced patterns on the ceiling. When I saw him there, I broke into a sweat.
There were only two thoughts in my mind. He was still there. I had to get out.
I had to get out, he was in my room.
I couldn't believe he was there.
I couldn't believe he was real.
I slid out of bed, out the door, and down the stairs. Away from him... he was in m apartment, and I didn't even know his name. I had no idea who he was.
I walked down the street I had been living on for half of a year, completely lost. It was cold outside, but I couldn't feel anything. Even though nothing had really happened to me, I felt as if my life had taken a huge turn. The safety I had in boredom and misery was gone, replaced by something that, for lack of a better phrase, scared the crap out of me.
I hated myself for being so scared, for running away. I should have stayed, to ask him his name, to learn why I felt so drawn to him.
I went to work, telling myself I would find him at my apartment that evening.
Suddenly, his face isn't so unremarkable. I find myself marveling at how strong and proud the line of his nose is, how straight his mouth lies underneath it. His eyes are hazel, and tired. I slowly reach up and bury my fingers into his thick brown hair- it's softer than I had thought it would be. Those beautiful, exhausted eyes search my face, and I smile up at him- he is taller than me, but it feels safe somehow to be looking up at him.
His face is coming closer, and his mouth closes on mine.
I feel great.
The sky is so empty, and quiet, and beautiful.
He says that's what he likes about me. I'm empty. I don't know what it means. But he likes it, and I only live to please him.
Maybe that's not healthy. I should live to please myself. But it's been so long since I was really happy. I don't know how to really even be happy anymore.