I didn’t want to answer the knock at the door. It wasn’t because I was fearful of what was on the other side, but because I knew all too well what opening the door meant. It was the culmination of everything that had led to this point. The inclement weather outside bolstered my thoughts almost as if it were aware of its place in the oncoming confrontation. I grasped at metaphors inside my head to describe the insanity about to unfold. I even searched my reflection in the window for some sort of script but I knew there was no formula. I knew I had answers to give and I was ill prepared. In any case the knocking had stopped but I knew it was wishful thinking to hope that she had left.
She…She…Her…It was all I thought about these days and I despised myself for it. I was tired of the games these feelings played. The constant questioning of every action and the analyses of the resulting consequences had almost brought me to wit’s end. With a deep breath, and a prayer to the stranger in the sky, I made my way towards the door. I turned the handle with all the anticipation in the world. All of a sudden I was struck by a tempest of determination. There she stood; the embodiment of sweet torture. She was the only company my misery would accept.
Beauty radiated from her every pore. She stood in the doorway dripping wet from the rain outside. Her hair and clothes were equally drenched as the weather outside remained resolute. A gentleman would have rushed to give her a towel and refuge. Tonight I did not want to be that man for her. However what I witnessed next fractured my will. I didn’t notice at first but she was crying. At that moment I wanted to be anything and everything she needed me to be. Keeping her head down, she made her way past me into the living room. In that fleeting moment she passed over me a deluge of thoughts rushed into my head.
“What did she want from me?”
“Did I want her here?”
“Should I confess?”
To be honest, It’s not like I didn’t want her here. In a way, she’d always been here. I brought her in with my thoughts and pasted her image on the walls of my mind. It wasn’t long before she escaped this encephalic prison and started pulling on my insides looking for a way out. And like a light in the dark, she found it.
But the girl sitting on my couch on this desperate night wasn’t the same girl I knew. She was eerily silent. She just sat there staring at the floor. Her countenance was clearly on high alert tonight. Even the guardians at her gates refused to divulge any information regarding her motives. No doubt about it, she was plotting my downfall.
I offered her a glass of water. She took it from my hand without so much as a thank you or an appreciative glance. Ungrateful bitch. I knew I was being harsh; however, I had my own defenses to maintain. She had no idea how many battles I had already lost to her. They were clandestine operations which took no prisoners, but somehow I was the only casualty.
The clock on the wall continued with its mission to make time stand still. It clearly didn’t want this night to end. The bastard was enjoying the spectacle. It was a warm summer night, and the rain outside wasn’t a welcome respite. I sighed with intent as I walked past her towards the window. I had hoped it would shake her from her catatonic state; no such luck.
As I stood at there at the open window, I thought about how easy it would be to escape. I left her behind once and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. But tonight, she had a purpose. I hadn’t seen her in months; thus, I had achieved perfect equanimity. Seeing her standing at my door at derailed all that. It was a head on collision between past and present; the former had finally caught up with me. I knew then that neither one of us would survive this nocturnal interlude.
I lit a cigarette, took a drag, and watched the embers dance away into the night. As the smoke dispersed, I found myself lost in recriminations. It was mostly the words I never said that bothered me. She had never heard them, even though I had tried countless times to spell them out with chemical courage. Why should she listen to the things I never say? Funnily enough, tonight the only sound I could hear was her silence. Why doesn’t she say something? Is she waiting for me to ask? No, I won’t give in again. I suddenly remembered all the empty bottles which had conspired against me and spawned a monster from my suffering. The mastermind of it all sat behind me.
Maybe she’ll just sit there all night and not utter a word. I thought about retiring to bed, but I knew I would only lie awake. The shadows had heard it all before. I decided that I would tell her to leave. If she didn’t, I’d kick her out. As part of my preparation, I inhaled deep enough to dull any residual feelings I still held towards her. Suddenly, a voice from behind me said, “I thought you gave that up?”
The rules of reticence had been abandoned the instant she spoke those words. The cards had been dealt, and I wasn’t happy with my hand. I defenestrated the half-finished cigarette and turned to her.Outside, the cigarette crashed to the ground and brightly lit ash bounced in all directions. A nearby piece of paper was engulfed instantly and blazed against the black of the night. It was a fitting metaphor. Tonight, everything would burn.
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