Prose 2012-2014

Backwards

The sadness, I could see it in his eyes. I think he knew just as well as I did that the end was approaching faster than we’d ever imagined it would. I felt hurt, and I guess he did too, but the underlying problem was that neither of us knew why.

I just remember seeing his smile. Every time his lips curled, I felt as if he was forcing it. That happiness didn’t come naturally anymore. It drove me mad. And slowly, so did every other thing he did. Each little quirk – the noises he made while chewing, the way his breath smelled in the morning, the fact that he constantly picked and pulled at the skin around his fingernails – became, irritating. I almost lost sight of how I ever loved him.

One morning, in late May, I woke up next to a pile of sheets where he should have been. A few strands of my hair secured themselves to my pillowcase with the help of some sleep sweat, but the gentle breeze blowing through the cracked window sent shivers down my spine and relieved the strands. It was 7:32 a.m. And it was summer.

The aroma of banana pancakes drew me into the kitchen, where I found him, haphazardly pulling a breakfast together in hopes that he’d be finished before I woke up. Though shocked and slightly disappointed at first, he smiled when he saw me. And then we enjoyed our breakfast together; it was the last time we ever did.

We decided that it would be in each other’s best interests to move away, to live on our own. So, he moved in with his friends from college into a quaint little townhouse, just south of the apartment I started renting with my cousin. I still saw him often, though, throughout that summer.

Our relationship was growing increasingly simple. We spent the days doing cartwheels in grassy fields, holding hands on our walk to the ice cream parlor, giggling at one another’s childish jokes. Then we’d watch the sunset and dance once the sky was fully illuminated by stars and moonlight. His kisses were light, like the lips of a cloud. He told me that every time our lips met, pure bliss burst inside of him. But every time our lips met, another secret was locked into the vault.

I started to think that maybe I had just not gotten the opportunity to get to know him properly. Relationships take time; they are ever-blossoming and cannot bloom to their full potential if both parties involved do not practice patience, and dedication. So, we went out to dinner. And spoke about our parents, high school, our tastes in music and literature and which type of pasta we preferred. In time, that small talk would lead to deeper conversations where we would reveal things about ourselves that we had told no one before, at least I’d hoped. In time.

Then one evening, around the time the sun turns everything it touches into gold, I was taking the train back home. Someone was staring at me. He had wispy dirty blonde hair that perfectly complimented his faded blue eyes. His facial hair gave me the impression that he’d rushed out of the house this morning and forgotten to clear off the 5 o’clock shadow. But, I liked it. Now I was staring, too. And he noticed.

He was picking and peeling at the skin around his fingernails. He smiled.

So I smiled, too.

Did I know him from somewhere?

---

The Auditorium

Silent. I don’t know a better way to describe being in that room better than saying it was completely silent. To say “you could hear a pin drop” isn’t enough to depict how silent it really was. The room was noiseless. The type of quiet that made your eardrums feel ballooned. After being in the room for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, one could start to hear a faint noise. But the noise was just an illusion, a painful one at that. It was a ringing sound, one that pierced through your brain. It grew louder with each millisecond as the surrounding air escaped the room. You’re at the bottom of the ocean. Floating among the sandy ocean floor, being crushed by tons of sea. The salt water filled your ears and drained all hope of hearing anything but that horrifying ring. Breathing wasn’t an option. You hold your breath only to help yourself hear that ring. That lonely, dreadful, infinite ring.

I shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. Though as I glance about the room, that reality quietly slipped away from me. Being so alone seemed almost like a dream. Just me, silence, and whatever lurked in depths of this dark abyss. This seemed like the perfect chance for paranoia to rear its ugly head. But once I recovered from the initial shock of the quiet, it came to me that this room wasn’t as horrific as I thought. After all, it was a dream, not a nightmare. I had once danced in this room amid my smiling peers and bass-heavy music, sat in the fold-out chairs and listened to the school principal ramble at us like Ben Stein, watched the school thespians belt out catchy tunes as the audience praised them with blank stares, and as I relived each memory I could see it playing out like a movie. I watched myself wiggle with my friends, chuckle at the principal, gawk at the performers, and it was all happening right in front of me.

With another shake of my head, I welcome back reality once more.

Despite the lack of windows or functioning lights in the auditorium, I could still make out the silhouettes of tarnished fold-out chairs and wrinkled papers and wrappers that skimmed the dusty floor. My eyes had to readjust themselves with every fleeting look I made. For the first time since I secured my place by the entrance of the auditorium, I found myself in motion, walking towards the exit. I scuffed my feet through the uncut grass that was dust as I felt my way across the shadowy jungle. Each drag of my foot sounded like sandpaper rubbing against a two-by-four. The path seemed to grow longer with each step I took, but I wasn’t going to let fear take over me now, as I knew the century I had spent in this pleasantly miserable room was coming to an end. I reached the door and opened it just enough to peek my head out, allowing sunlight and the familiar smell the parking lot omitted to flood the void.

“Boots? What were you doing in there?”

“Uh, Dowd told me to look for an XLR cable he thought he left on the stage.” I stepped all the way out, and with the slam of the door I sealed an alternate universe shut permanently.