|Tales of the blue nothing
Author: mikey magee PM
It's amazing how many stories there are in just one little town, and in one little color...Rated: Fiction M - English - Chapters: 6 - Words: 8,976 - Reviews: 40 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-24-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2600178
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Eleven O'clock." I stood in front of the airport door. My legs refused to step, one in front of the other. "Damn it Mark."
It took some time, but I finally walked inside. Passing by people of every shade and color imaginable. Children holding hands with there mothers and clerks at front desks. But, aside from that everything was empty.
Why was I doing this? What was I going to gain by talking with him? I knew that speaking with Mark wouldn't bring her soul back to life, but something would change. And change was something I needed. Walking to the benches and waiting for him to come. Waiting. It seemed like that was all I was ever doing, just waiting. But for what, I wasn't entirely sure.
"I hate this." But that was alright, wasn't it? To hate something, to hate returning to a past that was painful? It was only human nature, right? It was silent. Even the footsteps of people passing by were hushed and hurried. I could see a figure, thin and lanky walking towards me. His shirt was the color of the sky at twilight and his jeans looked like they hadn't been washed in a month. Knowing him, they probably hadn't.
"Hey man." He said. Mark shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed down to the floor. He always did that. The world was turning into a silent play that only the two of us were aware of. A drama that never came to a close.
"So, what've you been doing lately?" He asked. Same ol' Mark. Always tried to make small talk when he had something difficult to say. Why couldn't he ever be straight with me? Was it really that difficult for him to say that he had been dating Neema behind my back? Was it really that difficult to tell me that she had Cancer?
"Not much. You?" I wanted to plant my fist into that fake smile of his. I breathed hard. Clenching my teeth.
"Well...I've been doing alright. I came back to spend some time at home, have a drink or two, and..."
"Pay your last respects?" I interrupted. "You two were quite the couple." Mark placed his hand behind his neck, massaging it with his fingers.
"I remember Neema used to massage your next from time to time." I replied. I could see the exppresion in his eyes. It was like I stabbed him in the throat with a butcher's knife.
"Yeah, I guess she did." He paused. "Look, man I'm sorry about, everything. She told me not to tell you, so..." Mark sat beside me, and placed his hands on my shoulder. I shook his hand of of me and only looked away. Why did I come here? I couldn't even look the guy in the face.
"Did she really hate me that much?" It was difficult to believe. She would love him more than me. I felt like that guy I met at the bar. I just wished I had brought a gun with me. Hell, I could off myself and go up to the great blue nothing and ask her myself.
"I'm sorry, that's just the way it happened. I wanted to tell you about it, but..."
"But you didn't have the balls to tell me, didn't you? Just like you couldn't tell me she had cancer?" Just outside I could hear the patter of rain drops drumming against the concrete, the trees, parks and people all over the city. She always loved the rain, and everything it brought. Thunder. Clouds. Lightning. To her it was like a movie that only a select few could truly enjoy.
"Shawn, she told me not to tell you about the cancer. I told you that. I always told you that when you found out." He clenched his hands together in a mass of fingers and thumbs. "She said she didn't want you to know about it." And then, it all came flooding back. I didn't know what exactly, but I felt this heat...
"You lying piece of shit." The hands that I had clenched into fists found their way through the air and into his face. It all felt hard and soft all at the same time. The bones in his face, the flesh of his cheeks, and just like that it was over. He never even flinched
I pulled my fist from his face. My knuckles were red and soar. He only smiled "I sort of deserved that. But you still punch like an old bitch" I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. "She never wanted you to know about her cancer because she didn't want you to worry. Hell, she didn't even want to tell me. But I had to drag it out of her." He smiled. "She was strange like that." And then he chuckled "Like how she always wanted to dance out in the rain."
My head was hung low, I couldn't look at him. I wanted to raise my head, to meet his gaze but I couldn't. I guess between the two of us, I was always the coward.
"She was so beautiful, you'd never even think she had cancer. I...we loved her more than anything, didn't we?" And I think, for the first time in months. I cried.
"Yeah, we did." All I wanted was for her to come back. To rise from the dead like some apparition, but things like that only happen in stories written by and fuck ups, and has-been writers with no talent.
"When I went to her apartment that night, looking for her," I began "I was angry that she decided to go with you instead of me. But, then her landlord told me." I could feel a warmth on my body. An arm that wrapped itself around shoulders. I wished it would be there forever. "She died of cancer." I moved my sleeve under my face. Dear god, I was a damn fountain. "Why didn't she tell? I could've been there for her..."
"All she wanted was for you to be happy"
"Then why did she go for you?" Mark only shrugged his shoulders
"That's just how it happened. But that never meant she didn't love you."
It was rather abrupt, our meeting, our love, our time together and our parting. But I guess thats just what life is, you meet someone, and you move on once your meeting is over. Life was just a series of meetings and partings and when you become older, you look upon those meetings and smile. You remember the partings and cry, and then you live your life. "Just live your life."
"Come on man, lets get a beer." We walked out of the airport, amongst all the people, and children and old men with umbrellas. Walking out into the rain. I looked up at the sky. I wondered. Was the same rain falling on the coffee girl who believed in 2012? Or the basketball player who believed in a blue nothing, or the jogger, or corpse of the man from the bar, or the leaves that started on a journey.
She was probably looking down on both of us, or maybe just dancing somewhere in the rain. We both took steps to the ol' bar down the street. In a town that looked as blue as the night sky.