I've never driven at 4 in the morning before. The sky is blue, the birds are out, the air is fresh, and I am not sad.
This is me crawling into bed at 5 AM, with greasy hair and un-brushed teeth, thinking of my last night with Luke.
He is not special, he is not unique, and neither were the others. But like all the rest I cared for him, and hung on his every word, and told him my darkest fears, while he filled my head with music and movie trivia.
We sat by the mighty Merrimack on the spot of concrete that Jon and I had chosen not 2 months before. "I sat here once," I mentioned. He didn't care. He lay, staring upwards at the pink sky, lips slightly parted, contemplating the light pollution. He was maybe 6'2 with shaggy blond hair and a flannel jacket over a blue tee-shirt. I was shivering from the chill of the wind. He didn't notice. My pocket watch told me it was 1AM.
The river looked calm and we repeatedly practiced Numerology. I taught him everything I knew.
By the time my clock had struck 2AM, we were tiptoeing across an abandoned suspension bridge. The air was muggy and smelled of natural gas. I looked up as I walked next to him towards the sky, towards the green lines of the bridge, somebody's bridge, some town's bridge, left to never be crossed, and felt the beams under my fingers with their gigantic bolts and green finish.
Then it was 3AM and a freight train was passing in front of my car. We rolled down my windows and turned down the music to listen to it hum against the rails. "I want to know where its going." He giggled and made a snide remark about my obsession with trains.
It was 3:30 AM when he grabbed my hand and I had to politely explain to him that I was never going to be his. "You're 3 months too late."
I made him pinky swear he would be my friend. I made him promise this wouldn't be the end.
Its the end. But for the sake of every Brett Boland in the entire world I have promised to "NEVER HURT ANOTHER SOUL"
I have the scars to prove I mean it.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Relapse (July 09)
Today I visited January in my mind.
Passing through snowflakes, over an ice-covered driveway, and up a stairwell. There, behind a white door, I stood in a peacoat with brown arm-warmers, one hand on the door knob, squeezing as hard as I could. Should I leave? He was yelling in the next room. The apartment was half empty. They were leaving. It was cold and blank. His screams echoed on the walls. Should I leave?
I drove by his apartment building a few weeks later and saw his couch in the dumpster. I thought of being asleep on it, face pressed against the gold and black floral pattern, a pillow between my knees.
I even remember the last time I saw you. March 5th, two days after your 22nd birthday, you pranced out to my car wearing that stupid fucking smile and that blue and red jacket and kissed me on the lips. I took you out to dinner, shutting down your every word. My heart was filled with a bitter resentment, pulsating, needles covering its surface. I took you home and didn't answer your calls until late that Saturday.
"Is this going to work out?" you asked.
"No. I'm sorry"
"That's alright. Goodnight."
Its not January, Its July and I'm on the highway. I dial your number. You don't pick up, and I listen to your voicemail.
I hope you never call me back.
Passing through snowflakes, over an ice-covered driveway, and up a stairwell. There, behind a white door, I stood in a peacoat with brown arm-warmers, one hand on the door knob, squeezing as hard as I could. Should I leave? He was yelling in the next room. The apartment was half empty. They were leaving. It was cold and blank. His screams echoed on the walls. Should I leave?
I drove by his apartment building a few weeks later and saw his couch in the dumpster. I thought of being asleep on it, face pressed against the gold and black floral pattern, a pillow between my knees.
I even remember the last time I saw you. March 5th, two days after your 22nd birthday, you pranced out to my car wearing that stupid fucking smile and that blue and red jacket and kissed me on the lips. I took you out to dinner, shutting down your every word. My heart was filled with a bitter resentment, pulsating, needles covering its surface. I took you home and didn't answer your calls until late that Saturday.
"Is this going to work out?" you asked.
"No. I'm sorry"
"That's alright. Goodnight."
Its not January, Its July and I'm on the highway. I dial your number. You don't pick up, and I listen to your voicemail.
I hope you never call me back.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Into you like a train
The last time I saw you, we were sitting on the edge of a bed, shifting our feet nervously, going through papers. You didn't look so different at all. Though maybe leaner. I wonder if I too looked leaner, older, or wiser. You didn't tell me either way.
I kept my hands busy in the kitchen. I was afraid of becoming distracted or telling you how much you had changed my life. Sentimentality is all, we're still friends, and we can see one another whenever.
The Pioneer Valley isn't that far away.
I slept with my foot wedged in between your back and the couch and woke up feeling aged. The field outside was frosty, and my body ached from the lack of sleep. You hardly stirred as I peeled myself out from the back of the couch.
I walked away clutching a railroad spike like it was my last living memory.
I kept my hands busy in the kitchen. I was afraid of becoming distracted or telling you how much you had changed my life. Sentimentality is all, we're still friends, and we can see one another whenever.
The Pioneer Valley isn't that far away.
I slept with my foot wedged in between your back and the couch and woke up feeling aged. The field outside was frosty, and my body ached from the lack of sleep. You hardly stirred as I peeled myself out from the back of the couch.
I walked away clutching a railroad spike like it was my last living memory.
Friday, January 29, 2010
I could never leave you.
I remember cursing under my breath as I knocked the comb off of the paper towels I had laid out, and onto the granite counter top. My hands were covered in blue and I was washing them vigorously, staining the sink as the color disappeared down the drain.
Blue is only eating blue foods this week.
I turned the shower on, waited until the water was hot, and then dove in. Blue splattered against the white-washed walls of the shower. Blue ran down my body in streaks, like blood from a bullet wound. There was a ring around the drain, like shower scum, permanent, something I'd never scrub off and I sat, letting the water pour over me, rocking back in forth.
I wasn't there anymore, I was so skinny, and none of my friends believed in me anymore. I was in Amherst, with a coke bottle filled with rum in my left hand, clinging onto Alex Daniel's with my right. I had a pen, and a green notebook we're I scrawled and scrawled as if no one had ever felt that way before. I was a graduate student, standing in Emily Dickinson's room next to her dresser, whispering frightening verse' about bumble bees. My song went: park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me.
And when I wake up, my hair is shiny and blue. I'm so cold, like a car that needs to be jumped.
Blue is only eating blue foods this week.
I turned the shower on, waited until the water was hot, and then dove in. Blue splattered against the white-washed walls of the shower. Blue ran down my body in streaks, like blood from a bullet wound. There was a ring around the drain, like shower scum, permanent, something I'd never scrub off and I sat, letting the water pour over me, rocking back in forth.
I wasn't there anymore, I was so skinny, and none of my friends believed in me anymore. I was in Amherst, with a coke bottle filled with rum in my left hand, clinging onto Alex Daniel's with my right. I had a pen, and a green notebook we're I scrawled and scrawled as if no one had ever felt that way before. I was a graduate student, standing in Emily Dickinson's room next to her dresser, whispering frightening verse' about bumble bees. My song went: park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me.
And when I wake up, my hair is shiny and blue. I'm so cold, like a car that needs to be jumped.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Thelma and Louise
Something about this movie makes me miss my friend Kat. She would definitely drive off of a cliff holding my hand. I guess that was why I was smiling the whole time it was on.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
For Ralphy, because I laughed at you.
Kennedy Keller was standing on her tip toes, peering out the window at the Susquehanna River. It was March 18th, exactly 4 months and 8 days from her 15th birthday, and just over 45 minutes since her brother had promised he would pick her up.
Ralphy, the handicapped boy, was in the foyer just across the hall from her. He was leaning on the door frame for support, staring out at the parking lot. It seemed as if he'd been forgotten as well but Kennedy didn't bother to ask. He was sort of a looming presence at Dugin High and no one, not even the teachers, seemed to pay him much mind.
"H-Hey Kennedy," he had mustered up the courage to say just a few minutes ago.
That's when she had turned around and noticed him standing there.
"Oh, hey," she mumbled, feigning interest.
She swung back around slowly and positioned her face against window so that she could see her reflection. Her mousy-brown hair hung over her face and the light seemed to wash out her freckles. "If I could stay in this world," she thought of her reflection, "I would be admonished." She let out small giggle and leaned further into the cool pane of glass.
To her surprise, it nudged forward a little bit. Curious, she pushed harder and was met with no resistance. The window swung right open, and she stumbled clumsily, searching for something to hold on to. She grasped for the sill, a futile effort to save herself, but it was no use. Her grip slipped and she found herself falling.
Kennedy closed her eyes. If this was it, she was sorry for whoever would find her, crumpled up in a heap on the grass below. She prayed that it would be the groundskeeper, and not her older brother. He would say, "I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do, she was like this when we found her." Or, perhaps it would be Ralphy, the poor handicapped boy, that would find her. She could picture him in her minds eye, pathetically limping over to the open window, his long dark hair blowing about in the draft. She laughed then. A full, booming sort of laugh and opened her eyes.
She wasn't dead. In fact, to her complete and utter amazement, she was suspended in mid air. She reached her hands up and touched her face. Still real.
Then, as if it was something that she had been born in flesh and blood to do, she took off upward into the sky. Below her spanned the mighty Susquehanna river. She laughed, letting the sound of her voice expand outwards.
She swept past the trees near the school, budding in the warm spring air, and down, as close to the water as she could get without skimming her toes. This is when she thought of Ralphy.
"Ralphy!" She exclaimed out loud to herself, "If he only knew that he could fly! He would never have to walk again," and then more quietly, "he would be as good as normal."
With a new found purpose, she sped back to the window that she had fallen from. He was still standing in the foyer, as if nothing had happened.
"Hey Ralphy!" Kennedy said, "I want to show you something. You'll have to promise you will trust me though."
He looked at her inquisitively. He was wearing a red tee-shirt with blue sweatpants. She had never noticed how dark his features were before now. It was if he never slept. His face was drawn out and sad. She shuttered as he took a hesitant step in her direction.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You'll have to see for yourself," she was impatient with his slow movement and silently hoped that he was a bit more limber in the air. "Its really neat though, I promise," she continued as he made his way towards her. "Like nothing you've ever seen, or felt, before!" He took another step and was finally to where she stood.
She guided his shoulders and positioned him at the window, "Ready? You'll have to follow my lead."
"Of course," he exclaimed. His tone had become more exuberant.
Kennedy smiled reassuringly at him over her shoulder and then leaped out of the window. She tried to focus, but something was noticeably different this time. She was gaining speed, falling faster and faster downwards.
"Oh Ralphy, no!" She screamed, her voice piercing the air around her.
But it was too late. She hit the ground. The last thing she heard was the deafening crack as Ralphy's body collided with grass and dirt beside her.
It was all pain.
She wiggled her toes, then her fingers. She must still be alive. "Ralphy?" She whispered, her voice hoarse.
"She's awake," Kennedy recognized the revealed voice of her brother.
"Where's Ralphy?" She asked again.
"She must have hit her head pretty hard. You may as well swing by the ER just in case."
That must be groundskeeper, her vision was coming back in focus. She looked anxiously around her but saw no sign of the red tee-shirt anywhere.
"C'mon Kenny, lets get you home," her brother said. She let him hoist her up, one arm under hers.
They were almost to the car when she heard the sound of laughter ringing in the sky above her. She strained her neck upwards. Above her was a small dot of blue and red circling and looping. Flying strong and happy.
Ralphy, the handicapped boy, was in the foyer just across the hall from her. He was leaning on the door frame for support, staring out at the parking lot. It seemed as if he'd been forgotten as well but Kennedy didn't bother to ask. He was sort of a looming presence at Dugin High and no one, not even the teachers, seemed to pay him much mind.
"H-Hey Kennedy," he had mustered up the courage to say just a few minutes ago.
That's when she had turned around and noticed him standing there.
"Oh, hey," she mumbled, feigning interest.
She swung back around slowly and positioned her face against window so that she could see her reflection. Her mousy-brown hair hung over her face and the light seemed to wash out her freckles. "If I could stay in this world," she thought of her reflection, "I would be admonished." She let out small giggle and leaned further into the cool pane of glass.
To her surprise, it nudged forward a little bit. Curious, she pushed harder and was met with no resistance. The window swung right open, and she stumbled clumsily, searching for something to hold on to. She grasped for the sill, a futile effort to save herself, but it was no use. Her grip slipped and she found herself falling.
Kennedy closed her eyes. If this was it, she was sorry for whoever would find her, crumpled up in a heap on the grass below. She prayed that it would be the groundskeeper, and not her older brother. He would say, "I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do, she was like this when we found her." Or, perhaps it would be Ralphy, the poor handicapped boy, that would find her. She could picture him in her minds eye, pathetically limping over to the open window, his long dark hair blowing about in the draft. She laughed then. A full, booming sort of laugh and opened her eyes.
She wasn't dead. In fact, to her complete and utter amazement, she was suspended in mid air. She reached her hands up and touched her face. Still real.
Then, as if it was something that she had been born in flesh and blood to do, she took off upward into the sky. Below her spanned the mighty Susquehanna river. She laughed, letting the sound of her voice expand outwards.
She swept past the trees near the school, budding in the warm spring air, and down, as close to the water as she could get without skimming her toes. This is when she thought of Ralphy.
"Ralphy!" She exclaimed out loud to herself, "If he only knew that he could fly! He would never have to walk again," and then more quietly, "he would be as good as normal."
With a new found purpose, she sped back to the window that she had fallen from. He was still standing in the foyer, as if nothing had happened.
"Hey Ralphy!" Kennedy said, "I want to show you something. You'll have to promise you will trust me though."
He looked at her inquisitively. He was wearing a red tee-shirt with blue sweatpants. She had never noticed how dark his features were before now. It was if he never slept. His face was drawn out and sad. She shuttered as he took a hesitant step in her direction.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You'll have to see for yourself," she was impatient with his slow movement and silently hoped that he was a bit more limber in the air. "Its really neat though, I promise," she continued as he made his way towards her. "Like nothing you've ever seen, or felt, before!" He took another step and was finally to where she stood.
She guided his shoulders and positioned him at the window, "Ready? You'll have to follow my lead."
"Of course," he exclaimed. His tone had become more exuberant.
Kennedy smiled reassuringly at him over her shoulder and then leaped out of the window. She tried to focus, but something was noticeably different this time. She was gaining speed, falling faster and faster downwards.
"Oh Ralphy, no!" She screamed, her voice piercing the air around her.
But it was too late. She hit the ground. The last thing she heard was the deafening crack as Ralphy's body collided with grass and dirt beside her.
It was all pain.
She wiggled her toes, then her fingers. She must still be alive. "Ralphy?" She whispered, her voice hoarse.
"She's awake," Kennedy recognized the revealed voice of her brother.
"Where's Ralphy?" She asked again.
"She must have hit her head pretty hard. You may as well swing by the ER just in case."
That must be groundskeeper, her vision was coming back in focus. She looked anxiously around her but saw no sign of the red tee-shirt anywhere.
"C'mon Kenny, lets get you home," her brother said. She let him hoist her up, one arm under hers.
They were almost to the car when she heard the sound of laughter ringing in the sky above her. She strained her neck upwards. Above her was a small dot of blue and red circling and looping. Flying strong and happy.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)