1.
After an hour in the summer heat we were seated inside the colorful mexican restaurant. I carried on casual conversation with Luke while Brent sat quietly. I was grateful we weren't in Nashville. When Luke had come to visit us in the spring I felt like I'd been the butt of every joke that came out of Brent's mouth. It made me agitated and hateful; I felt tremendous guilt the entire time for being so snippy. The underlying tension was still there between us, but at least Brent was on his "home turf" and did not feel like he had something to prove. Brent never loved Nashville the way I did. It wasn't Chicago, it wasn't Boston, it wasn't "upscale" enough for his taste. He hated the rank smell of cigarette smoke, the bars, the musicians in their cowboy boots and rarely tipped his hat to southern hospitality. He once (only half seriously) admitted he'd always hated the thought of moving to the south. Prior to his southern experience he'd always considered southerners uneducated and "dirty". My heart broke at this. "Never bite the hand that feeds you," I responded, "and feeds you, and feeds you, and feeds you...biscuits and gravy, and chicken fried steak and all the things they don't know how to cook properly in the north," I added jokingly. While Nashville had been his last "option" as a scholar, it was my saving grace. I often thought if he only understood how lucky he was he would lead a less critical life. I tried often in love to tell him this; he'd listen for awhile but would always go back to his old ways. I was always heartbroken by the way Brent saw the world. He constantly looked through the eyes of entitlement, it was as if everyone owed him something and even if they gave him their all it was never enough. In some ways this challenged me; I'd be lying if I said I didn't always want to give him everything. I tried so hard to show him what I saw; I often felt foolish, like perhaps I was only a poet seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.
When we first got together Brent would marvel at the way I danced in rain storms, how I always played pretend, how I loved fresh flowers in my hair and how I'd walk around barefoot just to feel the grass between my toes. My adventurous side both puzzled and enchanted him. It never stopped him from walking with an umbrella though. it never stopped him from trying to put it over my head when it started sprinkling. It never satiated him to where he did not hunger for greener grass constantly. It didn't change his necessity for perfectly folded shirts, an immaculate vehicle and his need for absolute silence when he studied. I supposed that was okay, changing him was never my goal. In all honesty his structure was what I found particularly interesting and perfect about him. My only want was to teach him how to love...love another person, love himself, love the world...it seemed as if it were possible. Even when things were horrible I clung to that hope that perhaps I could open his heart. I feared how bitter he was becoming by the day. He didn't see me as magical anymore; our chemistry had died. I was constantly brainstorming ways to ignite him again. I loved him and worried about him and felt inferior constantly. I did very little outside of trying to force what we had to grow again. I had faith...I had a faith I believed in...
"Maybe today will be the day he'll think you're a flower again,"
I'd constantly tell myself.
I lived my life in a constant wait for something,
Anything
Good
To happen.
2.
I stared at the waitress. Her short skirt made my heart race with anxiety.
"Please God, don't let him look..."
I begged.
I looked at his eyes.
To my relief he was looking back at me.
I couldn't believe what I saw--
He was glistening as if he was looking upon me for the first time.
Was I delusional?
He touched my hand and instantly
Peace washed over me.
For that brief second nothing was bad, everything was right.
"I love you"
He mouthed.
"I love you too"
I whispered back.
"Dear Journal,
Tonight, I think he loved me...it was only for a second, almost faster than a blink, but I am soaring. He didn't talk to me on the way home, but maybe he just didn't want to ruin the moment we'd shared with words. Perhaps he wanted to hold on to that one good thing just as much as I do. Perhaps it was the momentary miracle from God I've been begging for...perhaps..."
There was a knock at the door. I looked up and he came into the room. I was sure he'd be asleep by now; it was almost morning.
"You're leaving tomorrow..."
He said.
I thought this was an implication he wanted to spend time with me.
"I just wanted to tell you good night again,"
He looked down at his feet as if he felt uncomfortable being so sincere.
"Well, it's morning now, why don't I just come sit with you until the sun comes up?"
He smiled back at me and motioned for me to follow him.
We fumbled quietly down to the basement and sat on his flannel couch.
He sat close to me. His arms were warm and I felt a tinge of sadness that it was over.
I was going home in the morning.
It'd been what I'd wanted,
But now it was nothing I wanted.
Things were starting to be okay again,
Or at least for the moment.
I was grateful.
I didn't want to let that one good day slip through my fingers.
The unfortunate thing about tomorrows
Is that usually
They come.
3.
My neck was so tense with fury I considered stopping at the "drug store" at the airport to see if they had an Icy Hot or some form of a heating pad. I hated him.
Leave it to us to fight on the way to the airport.
"You just...YOU EXPECT me to cheat on you. I might as well be doing it. It's like a self fulfilling prophecy. You're gonna pinpoint all my mistakes and turn them around like I'm unfaithful..."
"Maybe if you weren't so SHADY all the time, maybe if you didn't Facebook chat our female friends that you're so evidently attracted to, maybe if you'd been a decent human being instead of an ANIMAL none of this would have ever happened!"
"You're impossible. You're IMPOSSIBLE!"
"I...I'm sorry I said that, I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry...I have such a hot temper..."
"Maybe it's because you're from a BROKEN HOME, but our family doesn't yell at each-other. We were taught to solve problems in a more constructive way. I'm really sorry your parents weren't good to each other but mine don't yell. Maybe verbal abuse runs in your family...but you don't have to be abusive to me."
I was so physically ill, I felt the food in my stomach start to come up. I laid my seat back as my jaws tingled and my mouth watered. I put my hand on my head.
I was going to miss him like air.
4.
"Do you want to walk me in or do you want to just drop me off?"
He was already parking the car.
He put his hand on my face softly.
"Jade, I love you, of-course I'm going to walk you in..."
I grabbed my Hello Kitty backpack,
"Kitty in the terminal!" I said. I danced trying to make him laugh.
He grabbed me.
He held me.
He smelled my hair.
Suddenly, I felt wetness on my cheeks.
It wasn't my own.
I looked up and big glassy tears were falling from his eyes.
I loved him back. I loved him back so much it was as if all the breath had left my body and everything was hazy. I loved him as much as I did the first time he put his lips to mine.
I breathed him in.
He smiled.
He wiped his tears away like a child.
"Tell me you love me like it's going to be the last time..."
I said.
The words came out like honey.
We stood there stargazed
For a moment,
Neither of us knowing that it would be.
No comments:
Post a Comment