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We're back with Christian.
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It's where my reason stops
And something else comes in
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The darkness is threatening to drown me and I welcome it. There is nothing I want more right now than darkness. I want to see nothing, I want to disappear into it. Music is filling my head until there is nothing. No thoughts, no memories, only the heavy waves of the base pumping through me. I let it take over until there is room for no other feelings. I move to it, oblivious to everything and everyone around me.
A little bit later, when I am back at the bar, downing my fifth drink in an hour, my head still way too clear and sober, I become the very essence of what I look to be, what I have purposely made myself. I am flashing cheeky, half-promising smiles at gazes directed at me, looking around to see which unimportant faces turn my way. I am, almost innocently, moving in just the way that shows my muscles flexing, making sure everyone sees it, taking my shirt off, leaving only a ridiculously tight t shirt on as I make it back to the dance floor. I know I am showing off. I know nothing has changed since yesterday or the day before that or before that, but I have to be here. I have to do whatever I can to fill my head with anything else. After all, this is what I do, this is who I am.
Anything else was just an illusion.
Letting the music fill me again it takes all the strength I can find to push away what I have to keep out. Any thought of the one who without ever asking saw more in me than this is banished. All reminiscing of eyes looking deeper than muscles and tan, straight at the heart, of ears listening beyond mindless chat and banter, hearing things not said anywhere but in the contented silence, is forbidden. The silly thought that there could ever be more than this not allowed. All of it banished, now and every night from now on. Tonight, I'm definitely not more than this.
Noticing a few looks and glances and a couple of inviting smiles, some cute faces and fit bodies, I look a bit harder. I look and I try to find a spark of interest somewhere within me, a chance to feel something else. But no. So I ignore them, just registering that they existed, not caring about them. Honestly I'm only waiting for the moment when I will stop remembering, stop feeling. I never stop chasing that moment, whatever way I can make it happen.
Every night it's the same thing.
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Every day is exactly the same as the one before it. In a way I like it like that. It gives me control. It stops thoughts from wandering. It gives me something to hold on to when everything is slipping away. It gives me some sense of reason when I'm really only falling. Falling into that all too familiar feeling again. There's only emptiness, only nothingness, only loneliness, and no reasoning helps, I know that. I've known that for way too long. This is a feeling that can only be driven out by force. By distractions in whatever shape or form they might come. It's a pattern too well known to me but it's the one thing I have.
I've had to find new things distracting me now, since I can't go to Masala Queen anymore. It's pathetic, I know, but I had to leave. Never considered myself a quitter but I couldn't take any more of that. I have my pride. Not much else right now, but that I have.
Every morning, the first thing I do, is get out. Everything inside me yells at me to be out of there. No way can I stay in the flat a minute longer than absolutely necessary. Too quiet. Too empty. Too full at the same time. Full of the hurt of those first days. Full of everything I can't stand to think of. I need to not think, I need to feel another kind of pain and I know how I can make that happen. I seek out whatever gym I can find or I keep walking, running. I do whatever makes the heart race until it's at the point of exploding. I do whatever it takes to make the cold winter air burn in my throat and in my lungs, at last letting me feel nothing else. I like the cold, I like the darkness and I like the way I can make my body hurt. If I really try I might get to that moment when I finally let go of everything. The moment I feel only the pounding of my heart, the ache in my muscles turning into fire consuming everything else. So I do. Every day.
But that only lasts for so long. I need more. So every afternoon I am at the Vic helping Roxy out at the bar or just hanging out. It takes every ounce of strength to do it but it forces me to put that face on, of old Christian. So I do, always terrified someone will see the hollowness of it, afraid someone will ask me a question I can't avoid, can't answer. But I do it. I laugh, I chat with her, with anyone and everyone that's there. And it's OK, really, even fun at times. Wonder if they hear how fake it all still sounds, though. I can hear it myself, it's just slightly off key, but it's there. And every time I' m there I sense them all drifting away from me, moving further away. I always see and hear them from a distance. But it's distracting enough for my purpose.
Sometimes, when I'm not working, and when I can't stand it anymore I get drunk. Really, really drunk. Though I've found that that doesn't help much. Actually it makes it harder to keep control so I don't do drunk. That often. But I'm there, I'm always there. Showing off my perfect mask, trying to look like I think I used to, sound like I used to, be like I used to. Sometimes trying this hard makes me feel so exhausted, like I want to scream, but I don't think about that. I think about the noises instead, all the laughs and shouts surrounding me, the jokes that make me smile at times, almost but not completely drowning the sound of his voice in my head.
"Christian! I'm trying to talk to you!" This voice is familiar and welcome but drags me too abruptly out of my thoughts. "You never listen to me! So, what's up with the long face, then? Something's wrong?" I find myself back in reality with a thump. Reality being the Vic, and it's Roxy of course. And she wants to know, wants me to tell her what I never can. She'd pick this moment to be perceptive, naturally.
"What… I don't have a long face do I?" I mock pout at her, once again struggling to get the right tone of voice so she won't notice anything strange.
"You could eat off the floor without having to bend down, honey."
I probably could, I just didn't know it was that obvious. OK, so what's the normal response I'd have to that?
"Ouch, that hurts…" I continue the pouting thing, not able to think of anything cleverer to say. "I'm sensitive about my looks, and I'm a very fragile soul… Look, I was just thinking about…"
"Ah, that's your problem, see, right there." She sounds like she just solved world hunger or something. "A pretty boy trying to think is never a good idea…" Tilting her head she puts on her best fake concerned face.
"Watch your mouth or I'll wash it with soap for you, I am more than a pretty face thank you…" I answer automatically. "I have abs as well… Anyway, Rox, I was thinking that when I leave…"
"Yeah, I was going to talk to you about that, you quitter. How am I supposed to run this place without you here to help me, eh?"
"Oh, you'll be fine, you've got Chelsea… and… and it's just for a while…" I decide not to tell her that I haven't thought about just how long that while is going to be.
"But I need you here, Christian, no one flirts with the customers like you… no one brings in the money like you, you're a natural, babe… And you shouldn't dare to leave me when I need you here." From begging and pleading with puppy dog eyes to glaring at me sternly in under six seconds. That's a new personal best for her. But of course I can't say anything about why I'm really going. "Not that you're much use at the moment, though. Honestly, Christian, what's with the dark cloud hovering over you? Come on, I'm your friend, right, spill it now…"
Shit. She won't let it go, will she? I've got to get her off my back.
"It's nothing, babe, just a bit tired." I try to divert attention while still being vague enough to avoid questions. "There's a lot going on… Jane and Ian and the kids… and so much to do before I go…"
"Oh sure… that's a lie if I ever heard one, you're never tired, you've got more energy than Amy. Something's up, so tell us then! It's some guy isn't it..? " She looks at me expectantly, hoping for some juicy gossip. I can see real interest and concern in her eyes too, but I shake my head slightly. "OK, OK, forget it… But why are you leaving now anyway? So quickly? You never even told me you planned to go…You've got to tell me these things!"
"I'm just seeing mum and dad, it's been ages… By the way, since when do I have to report everything I do to you, bossy?" I say trying one of those smiles I almost manage. "It was an impulse decision, babe, and you know, I have to take every opportunity. I might be wrinkled and ugly next time I get the chance to go, and there's no way I'm getting any pretty American boys then…"
Oh god, it actually physically hurts doing this, trying to be who she thinks I am. My face aches from trying to smile, my throat aches from trying to banter as usual, my head aches from trying to always keep two steps ahead, thinking about what Christian would do or say.
"Yeah, yeah, fishing for compliments now are we… OK then…" She raises an eyebrow and sighs dramatically. "Christian Clarke, you're gorgeous and god-like, no long face, can have any bloke you like, you're looking not a day over 27 and blah blah blah… You should try to get a tan though, you're really pale…" she finishes and sticks her tongue out at me. Laughing at my unimpressed face she gives me a kiss and is off again. I smile, she is a good friend, she's trying, and I love her for that, I really do. But now she has to leave and I'm just left standing here again. Any bloke… yeah, that stung.
As I see Roxy leave I feel relieved and sad at the same time. Relieved that I don't have to pretend anymore, that I've yet again avoided revealing anything. A little sad that no one sees what's actually wrong. Not that anyone could ever be allowed to. It's just that for a while I could let myself do it, I could let someone in, let someone see. For a little while someone actually was interested. There was someone who saw through all the crappy defenses I put up, picked up on my moods, my thoughts and wouldn't let it go if he could help in any way. There was someone who wanted to do that, someone who got me, the real me. That's over now.
Nothing left to do but leave then, I guess. I don't work tonight, Roxy just left and I can't stand being at some club, I know it won't work this time, I can feel it. That moment when I forget won't come tonight. Desperately thinking of anything to keep me occupied I come up blank. Slowly I drag myself back, already dreading the rest of the evening. Dreading everything.
Every night I'm out, otherwise. I stay at the Vic or I go to whatever club, anywhere, where no one knows who I am and won't ask anything. I'll do anything to stay out of the flat, really. Everything there just reminds me and now I can hardly stand the place. So I'm almost never there.
At one point I thought I'd never leave again, that I'd be happy to stay locked in there forever. But when Jane came... I hated it at the time, but now I am grateful to her for dragging me to Masala Queen. It brought me out of that bubble I made for myself. Brought me out kicking and screaming, sure, but still, I saw that I couldn't stay there any longer. By the time Jane barged in and forced me out I'd started to feel suffocated. Everything was closing in on me, trapping me, leaving me no room. I'd never felt like that before.
It wasn't like last time I couldn't go out, when I couldn't make myself face the outside world. That time when I saw only the hate and the violence outside and I felt like I'd never see anything sweet or lovely ever again. I could only see the dark. I could only hear the taunting, feel the loathing, the pain. It was the loneliest I'd felt in so many years. But then he was there. He was absolutely amazing. For some reason he knew exactly what to do, what to say. He got through all the darkness. My flat had been taken over by the ugliness and the hate but it seemed beautiful and full of care and comfort when he was there. Him being there, being with me, healed what was broken, somehow. It was my haven, my sanctuary. Now it's not. Now I can only see him not being there, not hear his voice there, not feel the warmth of him there and it makes it difficult to even breathe. I will have to find another place to hide. And this is the way I've chosen to do it.
The place doesn't need a name, it's unimportant, just as long as it's as far away as possible from any memories. As long as it's loud enough. As long as it's dark enough. That's not too much to ask? Yet it never seems to work completely. I have reasoned with myself, I have told myself countless times what I need to do, so why can't I do it and just leave this behind? There are times when I think I'm doing better, when I think I've done it.
It used to be so easy. I used to know the game so well, play it just for the thrill, no matter what the consequences were. Some were pretty horrible, but there were times when I simply didn't care… and I don't care much now. Now I'm flirting with whatever guy that has caught my eye that time and who seems interested enough. I might even laugh if he's funny or look at him and say to myself that he's really fit. Like the other night there was this guy.
David, I think his name was. He was blonde, had bright grey eyes I think. I know he was interested, I saw the looks he gave me, eyes roaming over my body. I felt his breath, felt his hands as I let him come closer. Never looked into my eyes… never asked anything about me that mattered… Not that I cared much that he didn't, I was used to that. It felt familiar, I knew how to do that.
I follow him out and I know what he expects, what anyone would expect from someone like me. I expect it from myself. As he turns to me I know what he will ask, and I know what he thinks I'll answer. So I open my mouth to say it. And then it comes, that moment. The moment when I don't see the face of this David any more. I can give myself so many logical reasons why I shouldn't feel this way, why I shouldn't react like this anymore. But I do. I don't see David's eyes, hair, smile anymore but someone else's. His. I see it so clearly I could swear he was there. I can't tell the difference between my thoughts and what's real anymore and it's unbelievably scary. I think I might actually be going insane. And then I leave. Then I run.
I unlock the door as I'm at the flat at last. Long empty hours ahead of me, needing to be filled. I bet there is something to do with the trip I can do. I try to think of something to do that I haven't already tried, haven't already checked four times.
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Only a couple of days later it's time. Those days have been just like the ones before them. An endless quest to fill myself with anything other than what my life has become. Avoiding Jane's worried concerns. She thinks I'm crazy going away like this, she thinks I'm giving up my life, and I haven't even told her that I don't know exactly how long I'm going to stay away for. And perhaps I'm not giving up my life, maybe this is how my life was supposed to be all along and the life I've had here for the past two years was the anomaly. A dream you have to wake up from sooner or later.
Then there is Lucy, of course. Lucy's well-meaning questions about everything and her loyalty and care are getting to me and I can't deal with that now, so I avoid her too. I love her so much but I can't expect her to understand and I certainly couldn't lay the whole thing on her. It wasn't easy to say goodbye to them, but it was necessary. There is no way I can stay. This is for the better, I'm better off away, and they are certainly better off without me here.
It should start to feel better now that I'll leave everything behind, it should start getting easier. It has to. It's never been like this before. I've never felt this hunted down, this haunted and falling, always falling, nothing to hold on to. Getting away will help, I'm sure it will.
As the plane takes off I lean back and close my eyes. I feel a little relief, even if I'm going to miss them all very much. Despite everything I feel a little excitement. I am taking charge, doing something and that feels good. Almost everyone I know has moved on from me, left, kicked me away. This time I'm moving my life along on my own accord, I'm doing something about it. It's only for a couple of weeks as it is planned now, but something tells me this part of my life is over. I can only hope something new is beginning. This is the sensible thing to do. I am sure. I am. Really.
So why do I have that burning feeling behind my eyes?
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Thank you for being with me all the way here. If you'd like to leave me your thoughts about it, I'd be ever so grateful ;D