the ones we have been through

It was a sad movie. No doubt the saddest I have seen. So beautiful and true a love (too sudden and infatuating to be actual) that is utterly destroyed. Something so awesome can never exist long enough and I had witnessed its great rise and fall and I felt tired and worn. The way you feel after you hear the voice of god but are not commanded to do any bidding but to exist. Insouciant. Yet there was more to come.

I was to go see them again. That is not to say I had seen much of them in the first place. Let me start over. I had known Jordan and Fredrick from several years ago. Jordan more so than Fredrick, but by present they had both been lost to the world of past acquaintances. The difference between them lies in how they view me individually. Jordan had been exposed to more of my personalities that Fredrick, so it came as less of a shock when I was dramatizing my disconsolation. Instead Fredrick took it upon himself to restore my mood to the exuberance with which I commanded in his mind. To do this he coined and oft repeated the phrase, “people pies” in hopes of rehabilitating my mood. The result was much more philosophical.

an assatmarar /tuː biː kənˈtɪnjud/ ….

A Dangerous Place

You wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he walks how he does things. Not from his style of speech or his obsession with the big screen high definition tv he bought from some guys on campus as they were moving out at a price that makes the phrase ‘a steal’ an understatement. You wouldn’t think that he would be one of the better guys, the kind that call you beautiful and talk to you in that cute high pitched speech that says “I really like you”. You wouldn’t that that the guy that spends hours at the computer would be the one that cuddles on the couch near the fire or the one that whispers naughty things in your ear only loud enough for you to hear while his parents and grandma are close by.

The more I watch, the more I am surprised and the more I long for it. Not him, oh god not him…that would be incest…even if it wasn’t, he’s not my type. And not her…she’s not my type either, but thats just genetics. I don’t long for what they have, I don’t know what they have. I long for what I pretend they have. My head is a dangerous place to be, it is perfect. Problem free:

We walk out of the movie and he sings, “I’ve just seen a face I can’t forget the time or place where we just met…and I want all the world to see we’ve met…but as it is I’ll dream of him tonight….something in the way, he moves.”

I check the list I keep in my head of all of the cute reasons we are together just to make sure that him singing to me is still number one…it is.

We both laugh and he slips his hand into mine routinely and without hesitance or resistance. We drive back to our apartment and get ready to go to my parents, Norah Jones singing softly in the background. We look as though we came straight out of a movie, we match as well to each other as we do to candle lit walls and the dark brown furniture. Dark browns, greens, and purples float around the room a sort or paisley effect if you had taken a hallucinogen. On the doormat to my parents house we match as well as we did in the apartment…perfectly: well fitting pants and shirts, silver cuff links, complimenting colognes, and to pull it all together we both had one hand on the raspberry cheesecake we made for dessert. The door opens, my parents pull us in with full smiles, warm greetings, and the smell of fresh baked bread and stir fry.

In my mind, everything is as it should be. Perfect.

uh….huh?

“Um…so, yeah. There…I..um, the other day I went to a party and it was…yeah. so, um I think…I don’t know…I think I am losing my social abilities. I…I analyze… a lot. I…at parties I find it hard to let go. and…yeah. I worry that I….I worry sometimes. I…humph. I see people who lose themselves in bottles or in dancing or both but whenever I do those I just think more. I…I like to play…outside. I lose myself when I am playing outside with people. I…just I don’t know…I’m not like other people”

He just smiled and  said, “I love you”

He caught me off guard. I could only stammer, “uh….huh?”

He just laughed and kissed me.

One person left outside

I lose. I Give up. I have been defeated.

The anchors that weigh me down have stopped my momentum, and I have no strength left to move them.

The sun has been envelope by the clouds and thunder is my heartbeat in my ears, I cannot see.

When I am blind and immobile, I wonder:

Is it like this for everyone?

Does everyone worry they are doing it wrong, that many years ago they were sick on that day of primary school.

The one where you learn the secrets to life in all their glory.

They pass out the treasure maps and all the kids laugh until they see that X makes their favourite spot in the yard outside. They look up at the teacher who simply smiles and points towards the shovels at the door and for just a moment you swear that the room gets brighter, that moment when the smiles erupt from their minds and the run towards the door shoving into one another. Each one takes a shovel and is off, out the door. Each one to his favourite spot in the field by the school. Mine, the spot under the big willow tree, was empty. John Baker’s was ten steps from the little pond, exactly the distance needed (by his own estimate) to clear the pond in one jump. Sam Hardt’s was was just to the left of the small flower garden that she loved so very much. Mine was empty.

Looking over the field one would think it was infested with massive moles. Piles of dirt accumulating next to each hole while the children diligently work away at their task. Shouts of joy begin to erupt from the holes as each finds buried a golden box. The joy noises are shortly followed by sound of disappointment as they realize that they key attached to the chest does not fit their locks. It takes them just enough time to run to each other trying each key in each chest before the first unlocks. The teacher stops them and tells them once they are unlocked to bring them inside. I missed that day, there was one person left outside that day with a chest and a key that did not fit…my key.

One by one the children open their chests inside and uncover the secrets of life. They look different to each person and they show them off to the people surrounding them. A book, a ring, a music box, a pair of glasses. Underneath each object is an envelope addressed to them, inside a letter.

Congratulations, it is time for you to receive what is rightfully yours, the secrets to life.

. . .

It’s true, for you the secret of life is within this object. You can choose to accept or reject it, but be grateful…for you understand.

And each one holds the object like they once held their mother’s breast. Clinging to life.

As years go by, these children keep their objects close and the secrets closer. Never sharing for fear they might lose it, although sharing the secret would not matter as the secret is different for everyone.

I missed that day all those years ago. I missed my chest, my key, and left someone else stranded and alone. Today I am no further as I watch the others with their secrets run past, I wait for the one I betrayed in hopes of apologizing.

Sojourn

The journey begins with a step;

any direction yields a change which,

for better or worse

takes me away.