I’m in a hole again. It’s seems harder to get out of this one. I want more out of life again. This is what kills you. This small desire for better. There isn’t better.
Anyway, I can’t think of how to put my feelings in words today, yet I’ve got a compelling desire to write. So I’ll say something unrelated to this day.
Six years ago I was in a city I’d never been in before. I had just run away, and I didn’t yet know what to do with myself. It was a mistake to be in that place, but I didn’t know it then. I was there to see my great aunt. It was winter.
My great aunt lived all alone in a big house with a strange structure. There were two rooms. One was a spacious hall, with a long kitchen flung on one side, and a dining table adjacent to it. Through a door by the kitchen was a single, long room. In that room were three beds set against each other to form a single, long bed, covered in a mound of quilts taller than myself. This room was covered in blue tarp. Or maybe the windows were. My memory fails me. Outside was a balcony with the only toilet in the house. This house is the most beautiful house I have seen to date.
A village girl lived with my great aunt, to help her around the house. She and I quickly became friends. She was older than me and she was in love. She would tell me stories about him, and about her six siblings, and her parents’ mustard farm. I would listen patiently to it all. I didn’t know love then. And I certainly didn’t want to talk about my own family. Sometimes we would go up to the roof to see her boy bathing, or wave to him while he worked. It wasn’t inappropriate. She said she couldn’t marry him because her parents would never agree, but she was going to enjoy it while she could. Marriage in our country is usually by parental consent. I don’t remember if she said ‘couldn’t’ or ‘probably couldn’t’.
When I left, she spelled out her name for me and said it was up to fate if we ever met again. I was young and impressionable. She was young and friendless. She had an impact on me. I found her manner intriguing. I wanted to be as self-possessed as she was.
I stayed five days. My great aunt had betrayed me to my parents. I couldn’t stay longer. I took a train out. I had my first lesson in the real world there. Two men raped me in the station bathroom. There’s not much I can say about that. I thought they would kill me. When I got on that train, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. It seemed like a poor use of a second chance to do nothing. I never went back to that state.
Two years later, I fell in love. I thought of her when we got into a relationship. I finally understood the things she said about love.
Four years later, my great aunt killed herself. My friend had left years ago, to get married I presume. My uncle sold her house as it was, with everything in it. So that was the last time I saw either of them. I sometimes wonder where my friend is now, and whether things worked out with her boy.