Without thinking I let my hand slide over hers, and her skin prickles with
goose bumps. She fixes me with a cool stare, icicles hanging from her
eyelashes, and they melt and become tears, bubbling under her lids and then
traveling down her pale cheeks. She swallows and pulls her hand out from
underneath mine. Sometimes she's a wall, hard concrete that is faded. She
can be so cold, uncaring, forced and defiant. And then there's a time when
she's so amazing it makes you breathless.
Right now the wall is up and not budging.
She splits a tomato with the edge of her fork, spilling the juices on the clean, white plate. Without an inch of hunger in her system, she plays with her food, mutates it, leaves it naked and destroyed. When boredom has finally taken over she drops the fork with a clang and fixes me with a troubled glare.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night."
"You don't need to apologize,"
"I do, I will," She clears her throat. "It wasn't me."
"I know," I sigh, twisting my napkin with my hands.
"I don't know what came over me, I was nervous, you were there," She bites her lip. "And for one second I just wanted to know how it would have been like. Us. Together."
"And?" I regret asking because I can see she's biting back a scathing remark.
"I don't think we're missing anything." My heart whines and I have to make fists with my hands just to stop them from shaking. Her gaze lifts off of me and turns to the gray clouds outside that are slowly swallowing the entire city in a depressing fog. She runs her fingers across the mist that floods the windows and then sighs.
"I'll get the check." I mutter, motioning to the waiter. Silence emits from her direction and I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Two more days of this, my brain pounds, two more days and then we're safe again. Blunt and cautious voices over a phone line, being in the same room together has grown too intimate.
She chews her lip, memorizing each particle of the sky and the trees. I clear my throat and stand up; she pauses for a moment. Drags her eyes from the window to the clean tablecloth. She purposely knocks over her almost- empty wineglass, and it stains the white with a dribble of crimson. Her eyes look up, wide, hurt, and angry. Like a child punishing their parent.
"Oops."
**********
She likes to talk when she knows I'm not listening. She doesn't have to bother explaining her views, doesn't have to worry with replies, there's no argument. All I hear is the hum of her voice, the gentle chorus of her words, the harmony of her lips as they smack together and break with laughter. Its comforting, it's something in the background that reminds me I'm not alone.
We sit on the park bench like this for hours until her mouth runs dry and my ears are full. And then I stand up and she follows suit and we walk silently like mourners through the shadowy streets. The lights dim around us, the shops close and the world, the fast spinning world, slows, becomes an aching dragged out torture, so much so that I start to move faster, and she does too and our feet stamp against the ground in a race with ourselves. I have to beat this silence, flood the air with noise. I'm not sure if we are ready for a real conversation yet. I think she's still angry.
I look to her in hopes she will get my drift and open her mouth, release a symphony but her eyes stare back, open caskets of pity and lust and hatred and I turn my head quick as a whip to the glittering pavement in front of us. Unless I figure out a way to fall through a crack there is no way to escape this. I stop, leaning against a streetlight in case I keel over.
"You know, this isn't working how very well."
"No shit." She mutters, pulling her coat tighter around her tiny frame.
"Well don't you find that sad? I mean, we were best friends for awhile."
"I'm freezing."
"I think we should,"
"Can't we go someplace warm?" Her voice begs.
"Cause we have to stop acting this way,"
"I didn't think we would be pausing this long in this weather so I didn't bring my thick coat." She mumbles, rubbing her hands together.
"You know? Can't you see we are drifting apart?" A pause in her complaints, she blinks, rubs her hands together just for the sake of it, and then nods. Slowly, mechanically, in danger of shutting down. "I mean. You know what I mean right?"
"Yes," She says calmly. "Things change."
"You can't honestly think this is how it'll always be between us, right?"
"I don't know," Her eyes cloud over and she stares past me, through me, to the other side of the street. "I just know something changed and we can't go back. Things are different."
"But if we realize something changed then we can work on it,"
"I'm cold Goren."
"You're always complaining! About the food, and the weather, and your damn husband! We don't talk anymore. You whine and I comfort. Comfort and whine, don't you get sick of it?"
"So now its my fault its 30 degrees out?"
"No, I just don't know why we can't talk like normal people. Why you always have to skirt the issues."
"Wouldn't the better question be why do we have so many issues? Don't you think there comes a point when you just have to let it go, I mean," She takes a deep breath and bites her lip. "Sometimes you just have to give up."
"You want to give up."
"I don't know," She shrugs and tosses back a stray strand of hair. "I just think at some point you have to figure out if some things are worth this much aggravation." I don't want noise anymore. I want pierced eardrums, a rush of numb air to seize my ears and block the senses. Every word stabs me, cracks my chest, and she's right. Is it worth it?
"No." Her eyes drag off the ground and land on me, confused oceans. I can feel the cold prickle across my skin, the wind rush through my thin garments and land accusingly on my skin.
"No what?" She says slowly, dragging out the word so it seems foreign.
"I don't think it is worth it." The words swoop out of my mouth and slap her in the face. She sucks in a whoosh of breath and swallows it with a gulp. My heart, the loudest instrument inside of me, beats against my chest. The silence has become a raging annoyance. Finally she starts walking again, her fists clutched so tight they are white like bones. I'm afraid, so very afraid of what she will do and what she won't do.
"I'm glad you told me," She whispers. But I'm not; no it was the biggest mistake. I can't take it back but I have to. It can't be over, not like this. "It would have been a waste of time if I stayed any longer."
"Eames I was wrong."
"No," She turns around, her eyes piercing spears. "No you were right. You're always right."
"Listen to me!" I grab for the end of the coat that flaps before me but the wind blows it away. Like a child chasing a kite I keep following it, until the body it inhabits starts running. Tears stream from the face of a woman I don't know anymore, and sobs, sobs that seem to erupt from every corner of the street, in the dark alleyways and the empty shops, echo like grotesque howls. "Please, Alex, listen!" But its too late, she bursts through her hotel and leaves me shuddering at my reflection through the glass of the door. You've lost her again, my brain accuses, and you lost the best thing in your life. She stops suddenly, pauses as if she's unsure of her direction; she turns to the door with my face pressed up against it like an abandoned dog.
"Wait," She mouths. My heart sends a shock of pain through me. Do something, it cries. But I can't and I won't and I turn around before I wreck myself anymore. The door slurps open and she's there again, her mouth opens, puffing smoke into the vastly empty sky. "We've done this before, haven't we?"
"Yes." I admit, tired and ready to surrender.
"Well don't you think it is awfully redundant?" I can't understand what is going on, how queer she looks, her eyes glassy and full of pain and yet her mouth in a droll crack of a smile.
"Alex?" I ask, squeezing my eyes as if looking into a costume.
"I just, I think we should finally get it right for once," She steps closer, waiting. A response hangs on the tip of my tongue but I can't spit it out. She arches her eyebrow, steps closer again. I find myself stepping back. She looks away. "Wiles I wish things could have been different. I was so stupid back then, when I had the chance to love you, I just was frightened."
"So was I." She blinks at the statement and nods.
"I know I've made a mess of things, I just want you to know. I-I would love it if we could start over. Without all this pain and disappointment and bickering. Just friends, good friends. We can put this love thing in the back of our minds. You can do that, can't you?" I don't like this; I don't like this at all.
"Sure." I say and I plaster a smile on that mimics hers. And there we stand, porcelain faced clowns with the wind howling around us, and though we are supposed to be starting anew, washing away all our regrets and questions, I don't know if I've ever been so confused and empty in my entire life.
Right now the wall is up and not budging.
She splits a tomato with the edge of her fork, spilling the juices on the clean, white plate. Without an inch of hunger in her system, she plays with her food, mutates it, leaves it naked and destroyed. When boredom has finally taken over she drops the fork with a clang and fixes me with a troubled glare.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night."
"You don't need to apologize,"
"I do, I will," She clears her throat. "It wasn't me."
"I know," I sigh, twisting my napkin with my hands.
"I don't know what came over me, I was nervous, you were there," She bites her lip. "And for one second I just wanted to know how it would have been like. Us. Together."
"And?" I regret asking because I can see she's biting back a scathing remark.
"I don't think we're missing anything." My heart whines and I have to make fists with my hands just to stop them from shaking. Her gaze lifts off of me and turns to the gray clouds outside that are slowly swallowing the entire city in a depressing fog. She runs her fingers across the mist that floods the windows and then sighs.
"I'll get the check." I mutter, motioning to the waiter. Silence emits from her direction and I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Two more days of this, my brain pounds, two more days and then we're safe again. Blunt and cautious voices over a phone line, being in the same room together has grown too intimate.
She chews her lip, memorizing each particle of the sky and the trees. I clear my throat and stand up; she pauses for a moment. Drags her eyes from the window to the clean tablecloth. She purposely knocks over her almost- empty wineglass, and it stains the white with a dribble of crimson. Her eyes look up, wide, hurt, and angry. Like a child punishing their parent.
"Oops."
**********
She likes to talk when she knows I'm not listening. She doesn't have to bother explaining her views, doesn't have to worry with replies, there's no argument. All I hear is the hum of her voice, the gentle chorus of her words, the harmony of her lips as they smack together and break with laughter. Its comforting, it's something in the background that reminds me I'm not alone.
We sit on the park bench like this for hours until her mouth runs dry and my ears are full. And then I stand up and she follows suit and we walk silently like mourners through the shadowy streets. The lights dim around us, the shops close and the world, the fast spinning world, slows, becomes an aching dragged out torture, so much so that I start to move faster, and she does too and our feet stamp against the ground in a race with ourselves. I have to beat this silence, flood the air with noise. I'm not sure if we are ready for a real conversation yet. I think she's still angry.
I look to her in hopes she will get my drift and open her mouth, release a symphony but her eyes stare back, open caskets of pity and lust and hatred and I turn my head quick as a whip to the glittering pavement in front of us. Unless I figure out a way to fall through a crack there is no way to escape this. I stop, leaning against a streetlight in case I keel over.
"You know, this isn't working how very well."
"No shit." She mutters, pulling her coat tighter around her tiny frame.
"Well don't you find that sad? I mean, we were best friends for awhile."
"I'm freezing."
"I think we should,"
"Can't we go someplace warm?" Her voice begs.
"Cause we have to stop acting this way,"
"I didn't think we would be pausing this long in this weather so I didn't bring my thick coat." She mumbles, rubbing her hands together.
"You know? Can't you see we are drifting apart?" A pause in her complaints, she blinks, rubs her hands together just for the sake of it, and then nods. Slowly, mechanically, in danger of shutting down. "I mean. You know what I mean right?"
"Yes," She says calmly. "Things change."
"You can't honestly think this is how it'll always be between us, right?"
"I don't know," Her eyes cloud over and she stares past me, through me, to the other side of the street. "I just know something changed and we can't go back. Things are different."
"But if we realize something changed then we can work on it,"
"I'm cold Goren."
"You're always complaining! About the food, and the weather, and your damn husband! We don't talk anymore. You whine and I comfort. Comfort and whine, don't you get sick of it?"
"So now its my fault its 30 degrees out?"
"No, I just don't know why we can't talk like normal people. Why you always have to skirt the issues."
"Wouldn't the better question be why do we have so many issues? Don't you think there comes a point when you just have to let it go, I mean," She takes a deep breath and bites her lip. "Sometimes you just have to give up."
"You want to give up."
"I don't know," She shrugs and tosses back a stray strand of hair. "I just think at some point you have to figure out if some things are worth this much aggravation." I don't want noise anymore. I want pierced eardrums, a rush of numb air to seize my ears and block the senses. Every word stabs me, cracks my chest, and she's right. Is it worth it?
"No." Her eyes drag off the ground and land on me, confused oceans. I can feel the cold prickle across my skin, the wind rush through my thin garments and land accusingly on my skin.
"No what?" She says slowly, dragging out the word so it seems foreign.
"I don't think it is worth it." The words swoop out of my mouth and slap her in the face. She sucks in a whoosh of breath and swallows it with a gulp. My heart, the loudest instrument inside of me, beats against my chest. The silence has become a raging annoyance. Finally she starts walking again, her fists clutched so tight they are white like bones. I'm afraid, so very afraid of what she will do and what she won't do.
"I'm glad you told me," She whispers. But I'm not; no it was the biggest mistake. I can't take it back but I have to. It can't be over, not like this. "It would have been a waste of time if I stayed any longer."
"Eames I was wrong."
"No," She turns around, her eyes piercing spears. "No you were right. You're always right."
"Listen to me!" I grab for the end of the coat that flaps before me but the wind blows it away. Like a child chasing a kite I keep following it, until the body it inhabits starts running. Tears stream from the face of a woman I don't know anymore, and sobs, sobs that seem to erupt from every corner of the street, in the dark alleyways and the empty shops, echo like grotesque howls. "Please, Alex, listen!" But its too late, she bursts through her hotel and leaves me shuddering at my reflection through the glass of the door. You've lost her again, my brain accuses, and you lost the best thing in your life. She stops suddenly, pauses as if she's unsure of her direction; she turns to the door with my face pressed up against it like an abandoned dog.
"Wait," She mouths. My heart sends a shock of pain through me. Do something, it cries. But I can't and I won't and I turn around before I wreck myself anymore. The door slurps open and she's there again, her mouth opens, puffing smoke into the vastly empty sky. "We've done this before, haven't we?"
"Yes." I admit, tired and ready to surrender.
"Well don't you think it is awfully redundant?" I can't understand what is going on, how queer she looks, her eyes glassy and full of pain and yet her mouth in a droll crack of a smile.
"Alex?" I ask, squeezing my eyes as if looking into a costume.
"I just, I think we should finally get it right for once," She steps closer, waiting. A response hangs on the tip of my tongue but I can't spit it out. She arches her eyebrow, steps closer again. I find myself stepping back. She looks away. "Wiles I wish things could have been different. I was so stupid back then, when I had the chance to love you, I just was frightened."
"So was I." She blinks at the statement and nods.
"I know I've made a mess of things, I just want you to know. I-I would love it if we could start over. Without all this pain and disappointment and bickering. Just friends, good friends. We can put this love thing in the back of our minds. You can do that, can't you?" I don't like this; I don't like this at all.
"Sure." I say and I plaster a smile on that mimics hers. And there we stand, porcelain faced clowns with the wind howling around us, and though we are supposed to be starting anew, washing away all our regrets and questions, I don't know if I've ever been so confused and empty in my entire life.