'Enough to go by' song by Vienna Teng
I'm at your back door
With the earth of a hundred nations in my skin
You won't recognize me
For the light in my eyes is strange
It was years ago, God knows
When you strained to tell me your whole truth
That you were not mine to save
That you could not change
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Cut those chains in the middle of the night
That had you pulled apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's moonlight pulling the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
I've built a lot of castles
I've built a lot of blazing speed-of-light machines
But it doesn't matter, you know
They all crumble in the winds of change
So I turned back to breathing
I learned a few good reasons to cry
And I finally called home
Praying you weren't out of range
Carry the weight
I'll carry the weight of you, I swear
Carry the weight
I'll carry the weight of you
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Cut those chains in the middle of the night
That had you pulled apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's moonlight pulling the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
So will you let me come in
Mosquitoes have found me
And they're crowding 'round my blood
At least offer me a drink
Or a breaking of the ice
I'm wanting your anger
I only want to see if I can shake you out of sleep
And bring you out under this flooded sky
At any price
So carry the weight
Carry the weight of me in your heart
Carry the weight
Carry the weight of me
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Cut those chains in the middle of the night
That had you pulled apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's moonlight pulling the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
'It isn't fair. All I've done for the bastard. I've looked after him, raised him and comforted him. Now he turns to me and tells me that he isn't mine anymore, he doesn't need me. Fine. See if I care, I tell him. But I do care.' He was a very cute little child. The way he said my name, the way his cute little face would expand into a smile whenever he saw me. What a warm child he was.
It was raining. Of course it was. I was at home, in my cold, old house. England was always cold this time of year. 'It isn't fair' I thought again. Why won't the rum help? The ale doesn't help, the beer, the tequila. Even Ivan's stupid vodka doesn't help. I knew I was going to be very sick very soon, or was going to lose it again. I wanted to forget but that infuriating blond moron kept working his way into my mind. 'Why did he have to hurt me so much?' I told myself to stop it. I repeated again and again under my breath 'I am Arthur Kirkland- the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. I once had an empire on which the sun would never set.' I don't anymore I thought bitterly. He was my most precious part, the little cherry that was on top of the whole cake. But it had been growing rotten from the inside and had ruined my dessert. "Stupid America." I growled under my alcohol tainted breath. My vision was starting to blur and fuse one object into another. I wanted him to be there so I could scream at him. I wanted to yell and cause him as much pain as I could both physically and mentally. He wasn't there, so I settled for the wall. I screamed bloody murder, cursing my wall paper to the very depths of hell. My staff were used to my foul temper when I was drunk. I wished Alfred was there. I wanted him to see my anger, to feel it. 'Why can't he be here? Because he never is, that's why. He is useless, thick, stupid, greedy, and selfish. Did he ever once say thank-you? No of course he didn't' I thought this all to myself bitterly as I screamed and cursed. My throat was starting to grow sore and the burn grew, but I needed to yell. I threw everything I could get my hands on; glasses, bottles, vases, paper. I didn't care anymore. I needed, I needed… I don't know what I needed, but whatever it was I didn't have it. I couldn't stop myself from falling to the floor in hysterics. I felt the anger freeze in my chest and then it melted away. All that was left was a sense of bitterness and disappointment. Why wasn't I enough for him? I loved him and brought him presents, I travelled so far for him. I braved the elements and raging waters just to see his cute face, his sparkling eyes and those tiny, delicate hands. He had meant so much to me, and it seemed obvious to me that I clearly had no value to him, absolutely no value. I wanted to scream again, but all I could manage to do was let out was a dry sob. Everything was fading away into sleep.
I fully expected to wake up on the floor, but I was in my bed. Beds are meant to be warm, but this one was so cold. There was someone else in the room, tidying. I concluded that it must be a servant. No one else would have cleaned up the huge mess I had made. I had an uncertain feeling that I had thrown up somewhere. I decided that I was not going to move, not that my pulsating head would have let me anyway. I laid there in pain as I listened to the amateur buffoon attempt to clean and tidy up his possessions. It then struck me that I was wearing pyjamas. None of my servants would have degraded me by undressing then dressing me. They wouldn't have dared. I decided to turn sharply to see who this insolent little brat was.
Of course it was America. It couldn't have been anyone else could it? The aggravating man smiled at me, that same stupid smile that used to brighten up my day. This time it only dragged anger and regret to the forefront of my mind. He passed me a glass of water and a box of ibuprofen to help with my throbbing hangover. I took it without a word, damaging my pride. If it wasn't for the physical pain I would have told him to push off and leave me be. I felt the tablets graze the back of my throat and returned to lying down. Perhaps I could fall asleep again, but America did not seem to want me too. He forced me to sit up and pushed a warm mug into my hands. It was coffee. Scowling I spat into it. "I hate coffee." I hissed at him. He laughed and the noise split my head. His laugh had changed I noted. He used to have a soft high-pitched giggle. Now it was a deep laugh. He had really grown. "Sorry." He apologised, for the coffee or the laugh I didn't know. "Here, the coffee was a joke." A cup of tea replaced the mug of coffee. The smell of the tea was relaxing. It occurred to me at once that this was not my usual cup of Earl Grey. "Twinnings?" I asked him. He just looked at me blankly. "Is this Twinnings tea?" I took a sip. "Oh. Err, no." "Tetley?" "No." "Well what is it then?" I wasn't sure that I had had this particular type of tea before. It was not Earl Grey standard but it was pleasant nonetheless. "Well it said something like 'Old Yorkshire Tea' on the box." He looked confused. I supposed he didn't understand that I just wanted to know and was trying to make idle chit-chat. Feeling that this small talk wasn't working I simply nodded and returned to my tea. There was something strange about this situation that my post-alcohol fuddled brain could not figure out. I looked around the room. Everything seemed to be in their correct place. When I did realise what it was I almost slapped myself in the face. It was America. He looked so out of place in my home that it nearly made me laugh. I would ask him about it but the tea was more important in that moment. He was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me as I raised the cup to my lips. However, every time that I glanced at him he was looking at the floor, as if he knew I was going to and deliberately looked away. With the tea finished and my head slightly calmer I turned my attention to the obnoxious idiot next to me.
"What are you doing here, America?"
"I came to see you." He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Why are you in my bedroom, and why were you tidying up?"
"I came to see you, and this is where you were and your room was a mess." I ground my teeth. The moron just wasn't getting it.
"Why did you want to see me? Why were you in my room when I was sleeping? That's very rude, by the way. And why or how rather, did you get in here?" Maybe more direct questions would make their way through that thick skull of his. Probably not, I reflected. After all, he was America. He shouldn't wear glasses I thought. Sure they looked nice on him but they gave an incorrect impression of intelligence. No matter what great advances the people of America had made, Alfred F. Jones would always remain to me the world's biggest nincompoop.
"I just wanted to see you Iggy-"
"Don't call me that." I snapped.
"I was in your room because I was tidying, and you are cute sleeping anyway. And I sweet talked the maid at the front door into letting me in to see you." He continued as if I hadn't interrupted. I blinked.
"I'm not cute, and don't harass my staff." I grumbled blushing.
"Yes you are! Especially when you frown like that and draw your eyebrows together." He rubbed a thumb over one of my eyebrows causing me to blush. It took me a while to gather myself and I slapped his hand away.
"Shut up." I was ignored again.
"Anyway, are you feeling better this morning?"
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. I was happy to see him flush.
"Well there was a lot of bottles and things…" his voice trailed away as he mumbled. I was about to scold him for mumbling when something clicked in my mind. America was an awful liar.
"You…You were here last night weren't you?" I felt my skin crawl as his blush deepened. It seemed I had received my drunken wish.
"You heard the yells." It wasn't a question anymore but America answered it anyway.
"Yes." I felt some sick pleasure in this revelation and I relished the guilt I could see in his eyes. The pleasure slipped away as the silence lengthened, and America, having learned why I cried, now had a few reasons to do so himself. The tears couldn't be held back and pushed their way over his eyelashes to spill down his cheeks. I didn't want to comfort him. He should comfort me. He was the one that hurt me, not the other way around. I sat there stubbornly and watched him cry. Guilt bubbled up in my chest and blossomed into my throat. There was no way I was going to give into it though.
"I'm sorry England," he whispered. I could feel and hear it in his voice that he meant those words. I also knew that I had forgiven him the second those eyes met mine. I refused to let him know. I had to keep up the façade; he wasn't going to hurt me again. I wanted to be sure of that.
"I'm sorry for hurting you. I wanted to be your equal and I didn't want you to control me. I'm sorry it had to be done that way. I'm sorry I have never said sorry before. I'm sorry I have been a jerk sometimes. I'm sorry I barged into your home. I'm sorry I did not tell you I was standing in the doorway the whole time. I'm sorry I took off your clothes and dressed you while you were asleep. I'm sorry I couldn't find the right tea. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'm sorry I never said thank-you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you back then. I'm sorry I made you feel unappreciated. I'm sorry I don't find time for you at meetings. I'm sorry I don't tell you that I still love you. I'm sorr-" I kissed him. I'm couldn't say why because I didn't know. Maybe it was just that I couldn't let him carry all of the blame, especially when I knew it was my fault too. I would tell him eventually. Maybe in the morning of a summer's day as we lie in bed together, but in that moment I knew he would settle for me telling him, "I love you too." My heart had fluttered at his grin as he pushed me to lie down against the pillows. He kissed me again. Right then the confessions of love were enough to go by.
Please Review ^^ all feedback is welcome. The song above is 'Enough to go by' by Vienna Teng from her album 'The Waking Hour'