Posts tagged vignette

My cold fingers tried to find warmth on your skin. It caused you to pull away from me. I apologized like I always do. You shook your head no. It was just a reaction I read too much into. I said I was sorry for always being sorry. You smiled out of habit and I knew it was over then. I put no thought into what I said next.

“This is over.”

You were shocked and my fingers were still numb. Your fingers were only slightly warmer than mine, but they stung when you touched my cheek and said you were sorry.

I didn’t see you again until it was warmer and you were showing off parts that used to be mine. You looked different, like a girl I could love. I smiled and caught a glimpse of myself in a dark window. I wasn’t someone you could love. I was still the person you had loved. I hadn’t grown. I let you walk away without getting your attention. A breeze came and I felt numb again.

She was a girl I kissed one night and she was a girl I wish I could have kissed everyday. She was a cliché, an archetype, she radiated inspiration with no half-life. A muse who gave me a mix tape. I thought about her when I drank, thought about how she didn’t drink. Then I would think about how she gave up sobriety and drank with me. There was magic in that night, I was magic, she was a pixie with the right haircut. Hair that I pulled to make her smile in a way that showed she was of this earth, with earthly desires—a point of attack. I kissed her that night, but didn’t make it to the next day, the next morning, or even midnight. I made a moment though. A moment in her life, something for her to remember and something for her to regret. Her lips didn’t belong to anyone else, but her kisses did. They weren’t for me, but for a guy whose style was more current than classic. A guy who didn’t like questions. He didn’t like questions. All she was, was a question. I didn’t understand the relationship nor did I respect it. I was on a mission to make the universe I was in one in where we had kiss. A universe where I had tried to suffer her emissions without a pen in my hand and enjoy the present instead of trying to turn it into something for people to read—to live art rather than produce it. I couldn’t manage though.

The morning started with the night before, which didn’t end in a phone call between them. There wasn’t a fight or even a small disagreement. Those things can be overcame, because with those things are passion. What had happen had no passion. It was a simple question, but not an innocent one.

“When are you two going to get married?” asked a new man, a new friend in her life.

William was his name and his intentions were her. Jeff suspected, but didn’t care. He was comfortable in the relationship and trusted Karen.

Karen eyes were big after the question, not with hope but with fear. She too, was comfortable with the relationship. She was comfortable in her own apartment with time to live her own life. They hadn’t even moved in with each other. Why wasn’t that the question? That question had an answer. They worked on opposite sides of the city and any central location would be far too expensive and far too far from work.

The question lingered and neither answered, William smiled.

Jeff and Karen drove to their separate sides of the city and looked at their phones waiting for the other to call.

Neither did.

So, the morning started with that, the phone call that didn’t happen and when it was over, it was over.

You called me a sad, complicated boy with a talent for words and I called you my everything. You weren’t, but you let me believe. You made me happy and you made life simple for someone who always wanted to die. You never called me weak, which made me strong, but not strong enough for the truth of your dishonesty.

I’m sorry you made me strong enough to say goodbye.

She was a pretty girl who still showed her legs in late November, but covered the rest of her body with a jacket. Her body was slightly thick, but her legs were firm and she was proud of them. Her steps were deliberate and her body was hunched— eyes down catching glances of the cute shoes she would let tip the end of her legs. You could see her pride and you could see what she’d like to change. I wanted to change her. I wanted to kiss her body with passion until it straightened her back and lifted her chin. My hands would glide up her legs, bringing confidence to every part of her body. I would make her realize she was beautiful. I would grab her soft body hard and watch my fingers sink into her flesh. Her perfect legs would tense around my body and become firmer.

She’ll never see me with her eyes on the floor. She’ll never catch my eyes on her body waiting for warmer weather to see her leave the jacket at home. If she did, that would mean someone else had started giving her confidence. She’d belong to someone else.

She’ll never be mine.

I have nothing clever to say or anything to offer. I realize something then, I realize that maybe someone is waiting for me to look away from the pretty girl with nice legs to them. Maybe there is someone waiting to give me the confidence I need. I look around and see no one. I go back to writing in my little red notebook.

There’s a sharp drop of acid in my throat burning away any words that would be useful. I guess no words would be useful right now. I take a drink of water trying to kill the acid and to fill the silence. She knows about the burning, she knows me well. So well I should have known I couldn’t keep anything from her.

They were like two birds crashing. They met, fell and put a dent into rock bottom. Deep enough in the hole to make a grave. They needed their drugs and she knew how to get them. She put her mouth on a dealer and it got them both enough. She cry more than she’s ever cried. He stole, because he was too much of a junkie to be a dealer. She slept with dealers without any tears. She knew she lost her value. He had a gun and used it once. He died in jail and left her alone. She was dirty and got a disease too big for the free clinics and died a few years later from a cold.

I found a girl to love but I didn’t get her name. I took her smile and nothing else, except for the glances I gave back to her. There was a growing frustration in her face as I did nothing. There was something there and we both felt it; she refused to make the first move. I’m glad she didn’t. I wouldn’t have known what to do, I’m not ready yet. I don’t hope to run into her again because she’ll remember me as a coward. I’m not a coward I’m just taken.

People sometimes missed that she was beautiful but never missed that she was alone. She didn’t mind heads not turning but she did mind everyone always trying to get her more friends. She was content with her small circle. Cats almost out numbered people and would be equal if she got a third. Her name was important because people always got it wrong at coffee shops, even the hipper ones that should be used to odd names. Her name has always been Tegan not Megan or anything else. Her friends where: Billie, born William, raised Billy and changed to Billie because he preferred signing his name with two hearts instead of just the one; Mary, born Margarita; and Tiff short for Tiffany. There was a new guy, he was cute and he called her Tegs. It made her feel good and if he had a little better body it would make her feel special.

I need someone real under my fingertips. I used to be able to feel you but you’re too far away now, even though you moved away months ago. This would have worked out if you stayed; but then, you might not have ever grown. I forgive you and I love that you’ve changed so much. Don’t struggle with this. There is no need for heartbreak after we both have changed so much. I know there will be tears. I know there will be pain. I’ve been there and will live there without you for awhile.

This is how we say goodbye.

She put her best foot on my back and took another step forward. She used me, stole my magic. Learned all my tricks and I taught her all the ones I was too old to use. I thought when we kissed she meant it. I should have been smarter what would a young thing like her want with an old used dried hag like me.

Could there have ever been love there? There must have been. One kiss must have been real. No one is that good. Even when I used the same tricks some where real.

I couldn’t have been tricked every time.

She was easy to remember but I fumbled her name on purpose. I didn’t want her to know how much space she took up in my head. We’ve only met one. It was just a moment but it’s a solid memory. Everything is there, even things that weren’t. Things that couldn’t of been there. No girl smiles at me like she did in my memory. The type of smile girls bite to get rid of or to make guys notice even more. Either way the smile was a fragment of falsehood that would grow like any story until she threw herself at me in my day dreams. Which is where I preferred to live anyway.

She wasn’t the cutest girl there but she was the best looking one. She liked the attention it got her. It made her like the uniforms everyone hated and like the job everyone despised. She bagged people’s burger meals with a smile and even a little bounce to make the boy on fries smile.

She didn’t like the boy but she liked the smiles. She never got those smiles when she wasn’t at work. Her face was pretty and her body was okay but nothing like all the other girls out there in the world who cared enough to turn make up and clothes into an art.

She was a simple girl who just watched her weight a little and put stickers on her name tag.

I could have been better but never good enough for you. So I never tried to lower my angry voice or stopped what it would say. I’m as sorry as I can be for that. I didn’t mean any of it but I needed to see you cry. I needed to hurt you as much as you could hurt me.

There was too much grass on the field to play ball and that’s not a euphemism. The lot was overgrown and nothing was how we left it when we all left. I was the last to go and I kept it up till the day I left for college. I wasn’t lucky, smart, or talented enough to go to a real college right out of high school. So I stayed behind for two years missing the old gang and keeping things right.

I thought someone would have taken care of the old lot while I was gone. Some of the new guard from the next generation. They played there. They loved the field. None loved it like we did though I guess. It’s sad. I want to go clean the old girl up but it’s just not in me. I think she’s dead or maybe just a sleeping beauty waiting for someone else to care for her.