Post by NotSoPerfect on Apr 18, 2005 8:50:55 GMT -6
“It’s raining, oh God, it’s raining again. And this time there is snow, no, oh God, rain and snow and clouds and gray and rain and wet and snow and wet. I can’t do this, not again, not after yesterday. Yesterday was so warm, so warm and sun and spring and sun and warm. I need that, I need the warm. Not the cold. I am so afraid, so afraid to be cold. No more cold, please, not again.”<br>
I ran. I ran past the sparse trees, past the still water and the sand and the wet pavement. I ran past the parked cars and all of the rows of houses and the streetlight that can only blink yellow. Eventually I tripped on a misplaced curb, jutting out from a corner at an awkward angle. I hoisted myself up off the gravel, oblivious to the rock now lodged deep within my palm. The wind blew my long hair into my face and rain pelted my body, but I didn’t see or feel it.
I arrived at her door and banged on it. She answered.
“It is so cold. So cold and wet and snow and the rain. The rain and the wet and the clouds! I can’t take it, oh God please I can’t. You have to do it, you have to kill the grey please help oh God the cold!” I sobbed.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked me.
I looked at her. She was cold, too. Cold and blurry. Cold and blurry and wet and dripping, dripping down my face and hitting the floor. No, this is wrong; she is supposed to be hot. Hot and warm because tears are hot and warm and she is in my tears.
“He is dead!” I cried. “He is dead, he is gone, he is cold and wet!”<br>
She cocked her head to the side and looked at me. “He—!”<br>
“Gone!” I shrieked. “Gone, gone, gone.” And it is raining!”<br>
* * *
I woke up in my bed. The rain was gone, but the clouds remained. I looked around to find her, but she was no where to be found. She was gone. Or maybe I was gone. It was impossible to tell. Then I saw a glass of water and remembered. I shivered and pulled the comforter up over my shoulders.
I thought about him. His thick, shaggy brown hair and voluptuous pink lips made me shiver again. His strong arms held me close to his warm chest and slightly offbeat heart. His dark eyes, hidden beneath that wild hair, could find me even in the most crowded of rooms. I needed those hands, that hair, the chest the arms the lips I needed it all. Frantically, I reached out and my arms flailed as I groped. Nothing, only air. Only cold, lonely air found its way into my desperate hands. They fell, limp, to my sides and I sobbed again. He was my savior, my lifeline, the only thing that kept me existing. Without him, without his presence to promote my own, I could only…<br>
She entered. “Feeling a little better?”<br>
“I need…” I croaked, but my will to speak had abandoned me.
“Yesterday was difficult for you, I imagine. We had such a breakthrough.”<br>
I stared forward, but not at her. There was a clock on the wall just beyond her, and my eyes could focus on that much more easily than on another living soul. The clock sounded like raindrops, one by one, falling and living their short lives and dying when they hit the ground. Each tick – tock of the clock was one second less that I had to live without him. One second less for me to struggle.
“Listen,” she began, leaning forward with a serious expression pasted on her pale face. “You’ve lived for fifteen years without him. That’s how long he has been gone for, fifteen years. You can survive another fifteen, I’m sure of it.”<br>
My focus returned to her, and I studied her
features. She sported blonde hair. I didn’t like it; it was probably dyed. She had blue eyes. I didn’t like those either, because the insides were a boring hazel color, which enforced my theory that they were only colored contacts. Her nose pointed at the end a little, like it was always staring at me. Pointing at me and laughing at me. It knew something that I didn’t, and never hesitated to point that out. Her lips were thin and curled into a smile, rather than eased into one. Her eyelashes were exaggeratedly long, and made me uneasy. But all things considered, I needed her, too. Almost as much as I needed him.
After a long awkward silence, which was presumable a weak attempt to elicit some sort of response from me, she sighed, leaned back, and spoke again. “All right, how about we try something else? Walk me through your favorite memory of him. Maybe we can get his name today.”<br>
This was much more appealing to me than listening to a motivational speech. I racked my brain. I had so many memories of him, and they were all wonderful, but they were all hidden. I had hidden them from myself, because the Bad Man was also in all of them. Finally, I could recall one.
“We were on vacation…” I began weakly, struggling to recall the details.
“No, probably just at the beach,” she interjected.
“Right, right,” I corrected myself. “We only lived a couple blocks away from the beach. But we were getting ready to go there, I remember. I had my bathing suit ready. I was five.”<br>
“Five? That sounds a little old,” she added.
“Oh, yes, you’re right. Of course, we moved to the shore when I was three.”<br>
“Continue,” she put on a pair of black rimmed glasses and promptly recorded something onto a yellow pad of paper.
“My mother went to the store. To get us lunch. My dad came into my room. He asked if I needed help putting on my bathing suit. I was helpless; I was three, so I nodded. Then, he…” My lip trembled. I couldn’t remember the next part, but I knew that it was too awful, and that was why. I waited. I knew she would help me fill in the blanks.
“Did he touch you?” she asked, removing her glasses and leaning forward. She was about three feet away from me in her swivel chair, but it felt like three inches, three centimeters, like she was in my head.
“Yes,” I whispered. Suddenly it all came
back. “No,” I corrected. “My dad tried, he tried so hard but I kicked and screamed and put up a fight. Then, just as I gave up, he came in. He had heard the screaming and felt the house shaking with our struggle. He burst into the room and pulled my dad off of me. Then he hit him. My dad tried to hit him back, but missed. Then he picked me up, wrapped me in a towel, and took me away. And I was safe.” I was breathless by the end of this; the effort of remembering exhausted me.
She smiled. “There. Another recovered memory. You are doing extraordinarily well, you know. I was terrified yesterday after you remembered when he died and ran out like that, but relieved when I realized that you had only run circles around the block.”<br>
I glanced at the glass of water longingly.
“You know, I really should have taken you
home last night, too. Well frankly you shouldn’t have been here in the first place, that was very unprofessional, but we are on such close terms and you are breaking through that I just couldn’t…” The end of her sentence trailed off, as though she was seeking a desired answer. I blinked and it took a second for my eyes to see the water again. I wanted it. It was cold, and wet, but it was him.
“More,” I said.
“Another memory?” she asked, appearing somewhat shocked. “So soon? I don’t know that another one is such a good idea. Baby steps, remember. We don’t want to progress too quickly; that can be dangerous.”<br>
“I need to know his name,” I whispered.
She sighed and acquiesced. “All right, but let’s look later on in your life.”<br>
I relaxed and closed my eyes. I didn’t know where to start. Maybe if I just pick a random setting where I have been or might have been, she will help, I thought. “I was at the store. I was nine – no, ten.”<br>
“Good, good. Who was with you?”<br>
“My father, my little brother, and… Adrienne.”<br>
“Adrienne? You’ve never mentioned Adrienne before.”<br>
“That’s him, Adrienne.” I smiled, but quickly continued. “We were… in a department store,” I half-guessed, half remembered.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a grocery store? Or a food store of some sort?”<br>
“You’re right, a grocery store. The one right by the mall. The four of us were there food-shopping…” I trailed off, straining to remember more.
“Did you do something wrong?”<br>
“Yes! I dropped something. It was late, and very few people were in the store. My father got so mad at me that he grabbed me by my shirt and slammed me against a freezer. My feet dangled inches off the ground, and I couldn’t breathe. I coughed and tried to cry, but couldn’t. He lifted his hand to hit me, but Adrienne caught it.
“My dad let me go and turned to face Adrienne, but Adrienne was much older, probably twenty-five, and home because…” I couldn’t remember why Adrienne was there.
“Maybe he was home from college?” she asked.
“Yes, that was it. He was on a break from college. Well, my dad knew that he couldn’t fight with Adrienne in the middle of a store like that, so he dropped me. I fell to the floor and cried, silently of course, and Adrienne picked me up. He carried me around for the rest of the night, and held me. He held me all night, and I was safe.”<br>
* * *
I ran. I ran past the sparse trees, past the still water and the sand and the wet pavement. I ran past the parked cars and all of the rows of houses and the streetlight that can only blink yellow. Eventually I tripped on a misplaced curb, jutting out from a corner at an awkward angle. I hoisted myself up off the gravel, oblivious to the rock now lodged deep within my palm. The wind blew my long hair into my face and rain pelted my body, but I didn’t see or feel it.
I arrived at her door and banged on it. She answered.
“It is so cold. So cold and wet and snow and the rain. The rain and the wet and the clouds! I can’t take it, oh God please I can’t. You have to do it, you have to kill the grey please help oh God the cold!” I sobbed.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked me.
I looked at her. She was cold, too. Cold and blurry. Cold and blurry and wet and dripping, dripping down my face and hitting the floor. No, this is wrong; she is supposed to be hot. Hot and warm because tears are hot and warm and she is in my tears.
“He is dead!” I cried. “He is dead, he is gone, he is cold and wet!”<br>
She cocked her head to the side and looked at me. “He—!”<br>
“Gone!” I shrieked. “Gone, gone, gone.” And it is raining!”<br>
* * *
I woke up in my bed. The rain was gone, but the clouds remained. I looked around to find her, but she was no where to be found. She was gone. Or maybe I was gone. It was impossible to tell. Then I saw a glass of water and remembered. I shivered and pulled the comforter up over my shoulders.
I thought about him. His thick, shaggy brown hair and voluptuous pink lips made me shiver again. His strong arms held me close to his warm chest and slightly offbeat heart. His dark eyes, hidden beneath that wild hair, could find me even in the most crowded of rooms. I needed those hands, that hair, the chest the arms the lips I needed it all. Frantically, I reached out and my arms flailed as I groped. Nothing, only air. Only cold, lonely air found its way into my desperate hands. They fell, limp, to my sides and I sobbed again. He was my savior, my lifeline, the only thing that kept me existing. Without him, without his presence to promote my own, I could only…<br>
She entered. “Feeling a little better?”<br>
“I need…” I croaked, but my will to speak had abandoned me.
“Yesterday was difficult for you, I imagine. We had such a breakthrough.”<br>
I stared forward, but not at her. There was a clock on the wall just beyond her, and my eyes could focus on that much more easily than on another living soul. The clock sounded like raindrops, one by one, falling and living their short lives and dying when they hit the ground. Each tick – tock of the clock was one second less that I had to live without him. One second less for me to struggle.
“Listen,” she began, leaning forward with a serious expression pasted on her pale face. “You’ve lived for fifteen years without him. That’s how long he has been gone for, fifteen years. You can survive another fifteen, I’m sure of it.”<br>
My focus returned to her, and I studied her
features. She sported blonde hair. I didn’t like it; it was probably dyed. She had blue eyes. I didn’t like those either, because the insides were a boring hazel color, which enforced my theory that they were only colored contacts. Her nose pointed at the end a little, like it was always staring at me. Pointing at me and laughing at me. It knew something that I didn’t, and never hesitated to point that out. Her lips were thin and curled into a smile, rather than eased into one. Her eyelashes were exaggeratedly long, and made me uneasy. But all things considered, I needed her, too. Almost as much as I needed him.
After a long awkward silence, which was presumable a weak attempt to elicit some sort of response from me, she sighed, leaned back, and spoke again. “All right, how about we try something else? Walk me through your favorite memory of him. Maybe we can get his name today.”<br>
This was much more appealing to me than listening to a motivational speech. I racked my brain. I had so many memories of him, and they were all wonderful, but they were all hidden. I had hidden them from myself, because the Bad Man was also in all of them. Finally, I could recall one.
“We were on vacation…” I began weakly, struggling to recall the details.
“No, probably just at the beach,” she interjected.
“Right, right,” I corrected myself. “We only lived a couple blocks away from the beach. But we were getting ready to go there, I remember. I had my bathing suit ready. I was five.”<br>
“Five? That sounds a little old,” she added.
“Oh, yes, you’re right. Of course, we moved to the shore when I was three.”<br>
“Continue,” she put on a pair of black rimmed glasses and promptly recorded something onto a yellow pad of paper.
“My mother went to the store. To get us lunch. My dad came into my room. He asked if I needed help putting on my bathing suit. I was helpless; I was three, so I nodded. Then, he…” My lip trembled. I couldn’t remember the next part, but I knew that it was too awful, and that was why. I waited. I knew she would help me fill in the blanks.
“Did he touch you?” she asked, removing her glasses and leaning forward. She was about three feet away from me in her swivel chair, but it felt like three inches, three centimeters, like she was in my head.
“Yes,” I whispered. Suddenly it all came
back. “No,” I corrected. “My dad tried, he tried so hard but I kicked and screamed and put up a fight. Then, just as I gave up, he came in. He had heard the screaming and felt the house shaking with our struggle. He burst into the room and pulled my dad off of me. Then he hit him. My dad tried to hit him back, but missed. Then he picked me up, wrapped me in a towel, and took me away. And I was safe.” I was breathless by the end of this; the effort of remembering exhausted me.
She smiled. “There. Another recovered memory. You are doing extraordinarily well, you know. I was terrified yesterday after you remembered when he died and ran out like that, but relieved when I realized that you had only run circles around the block.”<br>
I glanced at the glass of water longingly.
“You know, I really should have taken you
home last night, too. Well frankly you shouldn’t have been here in the first place, that was very unprofessional, but we are on such close terms and you are breaking through that I just couldn’t…” The end of her sentence trailed off, as though she was seeking a desired answer. I blinked and it took a second for my eyes to see the water again. I wanted it. It was cold, and wet, but it was him.
“More,” I said.
“Another memory?” she asked, appearing somewhat shocked. “So soon? I don’t know that another one is such a good idea. Baby steps, remember. We don’t want to progress too quickly; that can be dangerous.”<br>
“I need to know his name,” I whispered.
She sighed and acquiesced. “All right, but let’s look later on in your life.”<br>
I relaxed and closed my eyes. I didn’t know where to start. Maybe if I just pick a random setting where I have been or might have been, she will help, I thought. “I was at the store. I was nine – no, ten.”<br>
“Good, good. Who was with you?”<br>
“My father, my little brother, and… Adrienne.”<br>
“Adrienne? You’ve never mentioned Adrienne before.”<br>
“That’s him, Adrienne.” I smiled, but quickly continued. “We were… in a department store,” I half-guessed, half remembered.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a grocery store? Or a food store of some sort?”<br>
“You’re right, a grocery store. The one right by the mall. The four of us were there food-shopping…” I trailed off, straining to remember more.
“Did you do something wrong?”<br>
“Yes! I dropped something. It was late, and very few people were in the store. My father got so mad at me that he grabbed me by my shirt and slammed me against a freezer. My feet dangled inches off the ground, and I couldn’t breathe. I coughed and tried to cry, but couldn’t. He lifted his hand to hit me, but Adrienne caught it.
“My dad let me go and turned to face Adrienne, but Adrienne was much older, probably twenty-five, and home because…” I couldn’t remember why Adrienne was there.
“Maybe he was home from college?” she asked.
“Yes, that was it. He was on a break from college. Well, my dad knew that he couldn’t fight with Adrienne in the middle of a store like that, so he dropped me. I fell to the floor and cried, silently of course, and Adrienne picked me up. He carried me around for the rest of the night, and held me. He held me all night, and I was safe.”<br>
* * *
But first I'm going to read part 2 ;D 