It’s a myriad of words stuck in my mind, none of them feeling appropriate for the situation at hand. I’ve memorized them over and over again, like some monologue that I’m trying to get perfect for when you’re in front of me.
Pacing in the pale dawn of the day, I find myself easily sucking down six cigarettes in the span of two hours. In between puffs and sips from a mug of coffee that gets colder, I try to imagine your reaction. Disappointment? Abandonment of one other soul in your life? God knows–you’ve had enough of that.
“. . .I try never to say goodbye, but I have to now. I have to.”
The army of words trailing from my brain to my mouth find themselves marching to one decision. I need to say goodbye, to let this spectral memory of us finally fade away into the night. I chug the last bit of coffee in my cup washing it down with a now uncounted cigarette drag. I allow the butte to fumble awkwardly onto the ground with the rest, realizing that I had built a makeshift monument to letting you go. Ironic that in all the hours we shared in passionate conversation with smoke looming overhead, this little pile would be the symbol of moving on.
I sit at the edge of the matted walkway, staring into shards of silhouetted trees that parade the blue fog of dawn in their negative space. It had been a year and a half of waiting for a sign that you would come back, that there would be something waiting for us on the other side of paralyzing loneliness. Common sense would have indicated that 2,500 miles between us would mean it’s over, that my imagination of you staring back at me across bed sheets was a twisted illusion, especially considering that your eyes were staring back at someone else.
I existed for quite some time as some faceless voice that periodically punctuated your reality with text messages. Blind optimism kept telling me–Just keep talking, stay in contact, she will come around.
The realization encroached on me like the thick shadow of some monolithic structure rising from the land. I felt dark. I’ve felt dark for so long, every since The Year of Midnight. A major difference is that in that year, I had you. I came home to the little light you left on in your living, against the better wishes of your OCD. I remember switching it off, opening your door to be greeted with a groggy voice, “I love you. . .”
I stand up from the end of the walkway, going over the words that will free me from all of this. I don’t want anymore cigarettes. I don’t want anymore lonely nights staring up at a sky with the wish that you would be there to share the stars one day. One day. . .
My existence may be a string of failures so far, but it is never too late to turn it all around. There’s still some time left. There’s still some time.
I walk back to the door of my house, lazily punching through my pockets for a key that’s stuck on the inner lining. Pausing, I’m caught on a memory.
“You realize that I’m probably going to kiss you before the night is over.”
I glanced out over at the city skyline that was hazed with snow, trying to conceal a smile, “Oh really?”
Taking an empty drag off her cigarette, her teeth revealed slyly, “Yep. I just thought I should warn you.”
“Well, I can’t say I would be disappointed.” My inner being exploded in joy.
“It is New Year’s Eve. You can’t get to midnight without kissing someone. What you do at midnight is what you’ll be doing the entire year.”
We kissed at midnight, ringing in 2013 with an explosion of passion I had never known. That was then, though. How we started. It was a love story straight out of some Harlequin romance novel. Along the way, life had switched to some noir nightmare. Now I was trying to find the words to say goodbye.
2 comments
You need to never quit typing (Unless is become a danger, as it does with me often). This is the best thing I ever heard and it is written like I would imagine an award winning book. Don’t take this wrong, i’m not all gaining any sort of joy or excitement from what the words are about. They’re just too perfect, like a solid rhythm, and you do not ever see things typed in this manner. My life started on midnight, of new years. It was the best moment I could have ever experienced. But now life has turned away into the darkness, and she’s gone for good now. Anyways, I appreciated you sharing. So I figured I would share too.
Thank you so much. I hope your life gets a little better with your own darkness. Sometimes with depression, it makes it ten times more difficult to get over a person we truly loved.