If you go to Chesapeake Bay, sit at the docks on the bay, and busy yourself with dunking your feet into the tide. If you sit there, watching the sunset. The sea water rising up to kiss the sand, and then retreating back into the fading glow of the sun. If you sit there long enough, staring off into the distance, you'll find him. And if you don't…he'll find you. Wait there, if your patient, and watch the sun go down. Wait there for a dusty haired boy, with bright green eyes. A shade of green that makes you think of forests, life, and hope. Hair that wrestles with the wind, instead of being flung around. It flattens down in some parts, and sticks up to the sky in others. And his skin…soft, like butterfly kisses. Wait for him, and he'll find you. But don't, whatever you do, don't let him fool you. His heart, you think it's yours. It's not. It never will be. Taming a heart like that, is about as easy as taking the sea into a jar, and keeping it by your bedside table, to marvel at while you drift into sleep. His name is Blake, and as much as you don't want to be found by then. After I tell you this, as much as you won't want to be seen, he'll find you. He'll see your dark hair flying, catching fire in the setting sun, and he'll come and sit with you. You will look into those forests in his eyes, get drowned in the hope, and find yourself feeling like your living again. And then his voice, as pure as the sky, and as tender as anything. He will wrap you up in his words, and you'll want to keep it, the sound, the feeling, everything about that moment. But don't. Just don't, you have to learn to let go of all of this early, before you fall. You can't stay there too long. Then you will speak to him. You will find yourself unable to stay away. You'll ask him so many questions, open up to him; everything will fall out like ink onto paper. You would think it'd look sloppy; the ink on the paper, but it doesn't, because he helps you. Once he's done, that ink on paper doesn't look so messy. It looks…almost beautiful. And then, you will tell him what you've been thinking, what you've been feeling, why you are truly here. And his eyes, the forests, the life, the hope, will blaze like never before, and his arms, the soft skin like butterfly kisses, will be so close to you. He'll wrap you in his words, in his arms, and you'll think its love, but it's not. It's a trick, don't fall for it. You'll think he's yours forever but he's not. And then, as the sun is gone, and the stars, twinkling brightly, but not as bright as him. You will have thought the sun had set, that the light was gone until tomorrow…but no. His smile, it's made of everything good. It has light, life, happiness, beauty, everything you had hoped to see in your life all in one single gesture. Then he'll take your hand in his, and kiss you good night, and he'll say: "Sweet dreams", and you'll know they'll be sweet because they will be of him. And now comes the hard part…Forgetting. Everything. His eyes, his skin, everything you wanted, everything you'd hoped for, because it's not yours, it was never yours, you can't have him. You know why? Because he gets taken by the very thing that brought you here. And that hurts more than anything else you could have thought, or hoped, or every believed and had gotten smashed, broken, cracked. But you didn't listen did you? You fell for it. Fate fooled you. You shouldn't have looked into those eyes. You should have believed me. But you didn't. We both didn't. So now, there's no one left to blame….but me.
If you close your eyes and listen, just rely on your ears, forgetting about your eyes, you'll hear them. The train whistles, the clicking, the rush. And if you allow yourself to stay there in that moment, to really focus you'll realize the rush isn't from the trains. Its the ocean. Far, far off in the distance, where the ocean sits. And then if you allow yourself to relax, for once all day, you can feel it. The vibration of footsteps in the building, the waves running up to meet you, everything. At least thats what I feel. Or...what I used to. The ocean's gone now, and so is the past. I tell myself this every night, when I allow myself to slip away...back to that ocean, that shore, everything I've tried so hard to forget. Mother's eyes, the boat, the train. Everything about there is bad, tainted, made to look good again, even though everything was so torn, so broken. You just need to pay attention to details.
I look around the tiny, cramped space. My makeshift bed, in which I share with Nadia, my keeper. Thats what she is to me. We are too close to be sisters, but when we think of each other...we don't think of attachments, we don't think of family, because we both don't have one. We think of what we keep, the thoughts the memories. And whenever I think of my memories, their always of her. She keeps every part of me. My life is hers to take, and to throw away. She's my keeper. The drawers in the room I also share with her as well. And the bags we keep the food in. Only a few items, that won't spoil quickly are kept in the bags. We both don't eat unless nessacary, or if we're sick. Or if we're moving...again. Nadia started that, eating something after giving bad news. I remember all the times she had done that. Ate away her sorrows, but never getting happier. The same blank stare.
"Sky, the cat died" she pulled out cubes of cheese, and began gorging. "Sky, the old man who used to buy us food was shot dead last night" she bit into an apple. "Sky...our lives are a wreck, and your still dying." She finished a whole box of crackers with that bit. And the worst: "Sky I did it again...we have to move." She can finish off all our food when she says that.
I lay in bed patiently, staring at my glass of water, my pills already inside. Nadia had to work months to buy them all, for my various health problems. I don't take them, until she gets home. Its been sitting there for an hour, the color of the pill has turned the water into a light green, the color of mose, or mold. Then the vibrations, the footsteps. I can always tell Nadia's apart from anyone elses. Because their quick, but not panicked, loud, but not threatening, and in every step, theres a pause. You can hear it. She steps quickly, but theres always a pause, a creak in between, like she has to force herself to climb each step. Everyone else's steps sound the same. Loud, fast, and makes every step on the staircase creak uncomfortably. Squealing like a dying pig. She opens the door, only enough so that her thin body can slip through, shuts it tight, then locks it, the way she always does. Her eyes are a deep green, with flecks of gold and brown in them. Not hazel, but almost like their brown and cant make up their mind. And when she's worried, when she's done something wrong, the flecks of gold gleam like the setting sun, and the light brown looks soapy, like mud. And the green just mixes into it. Her jaw is clenched like she's in pain.
"I lost my job today...but I stole my bosses wallet. Then borrowed money from the front register. I'll pay him back." She sits down on the edge of my bed. Explaining her day with her eyes, not her words. With her words she explains whats been done, and what she wants to do. But her eyes tell the truth. "We should have enough money to board a train...go to a different town."
Her eyes say: I quit my job after stealing my bosses wallet. Then stole the money from the register. I won't pay him back, because I can't. I'm keeping it though all of it, because I need it to take care of you. We don't have enough money to go to another town.
I nod, understanding. "Did you take your pill?" I shake my head. She walks to the sink, emptying out the green water, pouring the pills into her now wet hand, then refills the cup, dropping the pills in again. The make tiny splashes, like when people toss stones in lakes. She touches her fingertips to my forehead, and pours the water down my throat gently. It takes three sips to drink it all, then I watch from the corner of my eye as the pills slips down the cup, and I swallow it all down. Nadia then grabs a box of poptarts we bought last week, and rips open a packet. They're blueberry, I can tell by the smell, and the way she breaks it into pieces individually, because she knows I like blueberry. She gives me a piece, putting it next to my face, where it makes a triangular indention in my pillow. I lift my head, chewing it silently, then pushing it down. It hurts to eat solid foods. She looks me in the eye, then gives me another piece, but then bites into the poptart. I can't eat anything else for the rest of the night now. Unless I want to cough up blood. We both know what happens to me, all my health problems, everything. We both know I'm impossible to care for...but she does.
Her eyes dart from me to the window. She's thinking of suicide. I know when she is, because she always watches me, more like holds me with her eyes. I'm the reason she's still here, otherwise she'd have nothing left to live for. With everything that tied us to who we are gone, the peple who gave us our names lost...we have nothing but each other. Now until forever, and I say that because it'll be forever before I'm healthy enough to move on my own again. It'll be forever, too, before we both can feel anything ever again anyways.
But what you do, is you hope, and pray, that one day God thinks enough of you to take you away. In the end, its what we all want, and need. But what you do with things you want and need...is to learn to walk away from it. And then it'll all turn around, and come running back to you. You just need to be patient, because needs and want take time. It takes time for them to realize they need and want you too. Everything takes time. But with where I'm at, I don't know how much time I have left. In time...I'll figure it out. In time...everything will come running back, and life won't be so damn hard.