Brandy
I have the sensation of swift movement from 15th and Lasalle to 18th and 3rd. I don’t have this visually. Aries is mumbling about bullshit, cursing about the emergency phone call she just made to Wicca and the attitude she got. I am in tatters. I am so far beyond that car and that moment, I am on another planet where I can‘t feel the pain or the burning tears soaking my face and my t-shirt. I drift out of the car, up the stairs and after the buzz, I drift down the stairs to the basement.
The apartment is sparse, smoke-filled, beautiful black and white photography on the walls a place mockingly familiar in this new cruel, alien world. Incense and cigarettes and Wicca’s expression of concern, all decked out and perfumed to go to a birthday party. I fall into her arms and cry harder than I ever have before. I am crying so hard I can’t even breathe; literally suffocating in grief like bile trapped in my throat. Then, there is a glass in my hand and I gulp down amber liquid without even thinking, without feeling.
It’s a magic potion. I am instantly coherent and have a pleasant warm feeling. The story tumbles from my mouth like vomit, the worst kind of breakup possible, the kind that blindsides you in the cruelest way imaginable; the lies spouted by another person that the one you love takes as truth and there are no words to make them believe you. It’s an injustice where you are screaming the truth and not a single word is heard or understood. It is a rending of the soul with so much left unsaid, so much business that will permanently remain unfinished. So many long conversations and late-night walks and plans for the future gone in one swift, violent stroke.
She listens quietly. She smiles and nods. There is a fierce calm about her the entire time, which I hold onto like an anchor until I notice she has tears in her eyes. Angry tears. I ask her why and she says the thing that will ring in my head forever.
“He broke his promise.”
“What promise?”
“He promised he would never hurt my Aaron…”
Then we’re both crying, but this time I smile through my tears. He’s gone, but I know I am loved no matter what. There is an unconditional love that no amount of overheard conversations, lying psychotic bitches or the loss of charming, southern gorgeous alcoholics can ever hope to destroy. It’s there in her eyes. It’s the love of acceptance, of truly seeing me for what and who I am at that moment in that space and time.
Even through the stinging tears, I know it will be okay.
The apartment is sparse, smoke-filled, beautiful black and white photography on the walls a place mockingly familiar in this new cruel, alien world. Incense and cigarettes and Wicca’s expression of concern, all decked out and perfumed to go to a birthday party. I fall into her arms and cry harder than I ever have before. I am crying so hard I can’t even breathe; literally suffocating in grief like bile trapped in my throat. Then, there is a glass in my hand and I gulp down amber liquid without even thinking, without feeling.
It’s a magic potion. I am instantly coherent and have a pleasant warm feeling. The story tumbles from my mouth like vomit, the worst kind of breakup possible, the kind that blindsides you in the cruelest way imaginable; the lies spouted by another person that the one you love takes as truth and there are no words to make them believe you. It’s an injustice where you are screaming the truth and not a single word is heard or understood. It is a rending of the soul with so much left unsaid, so much business that will permanently remain unfinished. So many long conversations and late-night walks and plans for the future gone in one swift, violent stroke.
She listens quietly. She smiles and nods. There is a fierce calm about her the entire time, which I hold onto like an anchor until I notice she has tears in her eyes. Angry tears. I ask her why and she says the thing that will ring in my head forever.
“He broke his promise.”
“What promise?”
“He promised he would never hurt my Aaron…”
Then we’re both crying, but this time I smile through my tears. He’s gone, but I know I am loved no matter what. There is an unconditional love that no amount of overheard conversations, lying psychotic bitches or the loss of charming, southern gorgeous alcoholics can ever hope to destroy. It’s there in her eyes. It’s the love of acceptance, of truly seeing me for what and who I am at that moment in that space and time.
Even through the stinging tears, I know it will be okay.
posted by Shakycam | 9:57 AM
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