crowd. I wonder if he’s watching. He’s watched for so long—longer than I know, if he was being honest with me—that I don’t understand how he could stop now. And I remember the regret in his voice. I replay the scene in my bedroom over and over, searching for some unspoken note that will allow me to understand what is happening. Why he left. Why he took so much of me with him when he did.
His letters remain under the bed. I haven’t received another one. I haven’t read them again, but I don’t need to. Lines from them filter through my mind when I least expect it: When the gate squeaks as I rush into the street; When the sunlight hits my eyes, too strong, making me squint and the back of my eyes ache; When the streets feel too cold, and even my wool overcoat can’t keep it out. Maybe others would think those lines were sappy. Maybe I coveted them only because they fed my vanity. But it doesn’t matter now whether they were sincere or not, whether they were good or not, whether I was only paying attention to what I wanted to hear or not. It doesn’t even matter if it was all a game. I need him.
You are so beautiful that sometimes I don’t believe you can truly exist; and then I hear you play, and I know that I am in heaven .
It doesn’t sound like heaven when I play now. It sounds like every part of me is breaking. Or maybe it’s just because it feels like I’m breaking all the time, so I can’t feel anything else.
I remember you. I don’t want to remember you, but I do. I know I told you I couldn’t take it, but this is worse. Please come back just once more and let me tell you. Please come back .
I can’t disintegrate. I am like a bead of water on a sheet of plastic. Sometimes at night I try to touch myself in the same places where he touched me—to wrap my hands around my stomach, to run my fingers up my neck. I don’t want to love you , I think before I amend: I never loved you . This is all a dream. Maybe I am still dreaming .
But I wake, empty. I drag my feet to the bathroom. I do my best not to recognize the young woman looking back at me in the mirror. Surely those aren’t my hollow eyes, my hollow cheeks, my dry, cracked lips.
I haven’t been able to dream since I met you. I look like a woman who’s never dreamed in her entire life. I only know nightmares and emptiness.
And then I turn on the water, wash my face, and begin another day.
Chapter 6
My eyes have been puffy for five days. They aren’t anymore, thanks to Dolly’s makeover. That woman can work magic. Unfortunately, it is usually hoochie magic, but tonight Cassie and Anna were able to reign her back. This was a tasteful gig at the Guchenberg, for Chrissake. You don’t show up to places like that in a sequence-infested halter top, much to her dismay.
Still, the little white dress I wore was a little shorter than appropriate. It’s not bad to have a little bit of hooch! Dolly insisted. I wish I could have come back at her with something snappy, but the truth is I like it. I feel more beautiful and feminine than I have in a long time.
Still, I put my foot down when it came to the heels. I didn’t want to fall on stage.
I glance at my friends, who were in various stages of getting ready for tonight. All of them were going out together, which was a rarity. Anna and Dolly love each other, but their tastes couldn’t be more different. One lapped up anything “culturally rewarding,” while the other seemed to want to get more ass than an entire frat house before graduation. Tonight, their goals aligned. They were meeting Dolly’s newest beau at an off-Broadway show.
“I wish I was going out with all of you,” I pouted.
“No you don’t. Alexander do-you-want-to-stick-your-hand-down-my-pants will be there,” Cassie mutters.
Anna makes a face as she tries not to laugh. “I’m not sitting next to him.”
Cassie groans. “Alright, but if he tries anything again I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”
I
His letters remain under the bed. I haven’t received another one. I haven’t read them again, but I don’t need to. Lines from them filter through my mind when I least expect it: When the gate squeaks as I rush into the street; When the sunlight hits my eyes, too strong, making me squint and the back of my eyes ache; When the streets feel too cold, and even my wool overcoat can’t keep it out. Maybe others would think those lines were sappy. Maybe I coveted them only because they fed my vanity. But it doesn’t matter now whether they were sincere or not, whether they were good or not, whether I was only paying attention to what I wanted to hear or not. It doesn’t even matter if it was all a game. I need him.
You are so beautiful that sometimes I don’t believe you can truly exist; and then I hear you play, and I know that I am in heaven .
It doesn’t sound like heaven when I play now. It sounds like every part of me is breaking. Or maybe it’s just because it feels like I’m breaking all the time, so I can’t feel anything else.
I remember you. I don’t want to remember you, but I do. I know I told you I couldn’t take it, but this is worse. Please come back just once more and let me tell you. Please come back .
I can’t disintegrate. I am like a bead of water on a sheet of plastic. Sometimes at night I try to touch myself in the same places where he touched me—to wrap my hands around my stomach, to run my fingers up my neck. I don’t want to love you , I think before I amend: I never loved you . This is all a dream. Maybe I am still dreaming .
But I wake, empty. I drag my feet to the bathroom. I do my best not to recognize the young woman looking back at me in the mirror. Surely those aren’t my hollow eyes, my hollow cheeks, my dry, cracked lips.
I haven’t been able to dream since I met you. I look like a woman who’s never dreamed in her entire life. I only know nightmares and emptiness.
And then I turn on the water, wash my face, and begin another day.
Chapter 6
My eyes have been puffy for five days. They aren’t anymore, thanks to Dolly’s makeover. That woman can work magic. Unfortunately, it is usually hoochie magic, but tonight Cassie and Anna were able to reign her back. This was a tasteful gig at the Guchenberg, for Chrissake. You don’t show up to places like that in a sequence-infested halter top, much to her dismay.
Still, the little white dress I wore was a little shorter than appropriate. It’s not bad to have a little bit of hooch! Dolly insisted. I wish I could have come back at her with something snappy, but the truth is I like it. I feel more beautiful and feminine than I have in a long time.
Still, I put my foot down when it came to the heels. I didn’t want to fall on stage.
I glance at my friends, who were in various stages of getting ready for tonight. All of them were going out together, which was a rarity. Anna and Dolly love each other, but their tastes couldn’t be more different. One lapped up anything “culturally rewarding,” while the other seemed to want to get more ass than an entire frat house before graduation. Tonight, their goals aligned. They were meeting Dolly’s newest beau at an off-Broadway show.
“I wish I was going out with all of you,” I pouted.
“No you don’t. Alexander do-you-want-to-stick-your-hand-down-my-pants will be there,” Cassie mutters.
Anna makes a face as she tries not to laugh. “I’m not sitting next to him.”
Cassie groans. “Alright, but if he tries anything again I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”
I
Similar Books
