|we are nowhere and it's now
Author: empty seas PM
She has feral eyes.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy - Words: 1,481 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 03-13-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2785002
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
we are nowhere and it's now.
We stand on the edge of the sand. The lake writhes under the blistering sun. The sky goes on and on forever and the water laps at our feet. We are here because we do not have a choice and we dip our toes in because we do have a choice and we always choose wrong. If we live through this then we are true survivors.
She has feral eyes. She has feral eyes and I believe this is the reason I fall in love with her. Her feral eyes catch my dilated ones from across the room. She smiles a smile that reminds me of a lion looking at its prey and she crosses the room, past feeble people with alcohol in their systems and I look at her with cocaine in my eyes in my ears on my tongue on my fingertips.
I suppose you would like to sleep with me, she says.
I have always been an honest person so I say, yes. Yes I would like to sleep with you.
And she just laughs at me and takes a drink. She says, Maybe later.
Later, I see her kissing another man. I do not know who he is but she sees me looking and politely excuses herself. She takes me into the ladies bathroom and she begins to kiss me like I have never been kissed before. She presses herself against me and pushes me up against the white sinks. The toilets smell like vomit and sweat. This is all very rushed. She asks me if my offer still stands. I tell her that it does. I wonder if we are going to have sex in this bathroom that smells like vomit and sweat. I think this is one of the most unromantic places to do this but I do not think she cares.
So we have sex in the dirty bathroom and she asks me if I think she is pretty. I think she is very pretty but the prettiest thing about her is her eyes. I tell her they are very feral and wild. She laughs at this and she tells me I am different to everyone else. I think this is a compliment.
The next time I see her, I am standing with my back pressed against a cold grey wall in Nowhere Particular. I take a drag on my cigarette and she appears out of almost nowhere.
She asks me where we are.
We are anywhere but here, I tell her.
This place, she says, waving her hand around, this place will never be somewhere, and then she asks me for a cigarette. Then, with the smoke pirouetting off her lips, she tells me she is going to stop smoking. She throws the cigarette to the ground and she stamps it out. Now, she says, now the only thing contributing to my lung cancer is you.
Where are we now, I ask.
We are nowhere, and it is now, she says and it starts to rain.
We are back on the sand. The sun is orange yet it is freezing cold here. There is no wind. There is just the cold. We steal glances at one another like they are forbidden and we look out at the vast lake and it bubbles, roasting. This land is impossible yet we are here and we are invincible. We just have to believe it and we are.
I'm crying because it's been a while since I've cried. Other than that, I don't know why I'm sobbing so tragically, so dramatically, like the whole goddamn world is ending. I cry into her hair and through my tears I tell her about an island, this strange island where we are invincible and indestructible.
She doesn't tell me it's okay. She doesn't feed me lies. She just understands. I am glad she does, and that she does not say anything, because I do not think I could take any more people offering me fake sympathy tied in bouquets.
She watches me with inscrutable eyes then tells me to stop, tells me that I've cried enough. I obey her because what else can I do? I have nobody else. There is just me, her, and the drugs.
It is New Year's Eve and I am at a club with more feeble people with alcohol in their systems. Cocaine is once again pumping through my veins with each heartbeat. The flash of the strobe lights creates freeze-frames of people whom I do not wish to know. The throbbing beat presses in on me and deafens me. She's there because she's always there. It is five minutes until midnight. New Year's resolutions are made to be broken so I resolve to stop doing all these messy messy drugs and I do a line to celebrate and it is now thirty seconds until midnight. I try to find her in the crowd but I can't. Then she is right beside me, whispering Happy New Year. It is ten seconds until midnight. Nine eight seven six five four three two one and the clock is strikes twelve. She kisses me in the face of the New Year, then she takes me to her car and we have sex.
This is not love, this is just a perfect imitation.
There is LSD on the table. I am compelled to take some, just to forget. Forget what, I do not know. Sometimes, I would just like to escape the world and everything in it. But I know she would not let me forget her. Like a dream, like a nightmare, she is always there. Hovering behind me, in front of me. It doesn't matter where because I can always feel her presence. When she touches me, it is like an electric shock, sending shivers up my spine.
I take the drug because I always take the drug.
I just want to get so fucked up that I don't even know my own name anymore.
She disapproves. I ignore her.
When the sky is on fire and it seems like the whole word shall come crashing down on us, what do we do? We watch. With fascination, we watch. We may be horrified but still, we will watch and we will live until the very end, until God himself has to strike us dead. And we burn with all the passion of Joan of Arc, only we are slightly more infamous and a little less heroic.
We are in my apartment and she is apologising for something I do not know she has done. She is telling me she loves me and I am not answering because I do not really know if I love her or not. I know I could not live without her but I am not certain if I love her in the way she means. It is more the feeling that she controls my every movement, yet I do not mind. I ask her what she has done and she tells me it is not what she has done, rather what I have done.
I do not know what to say but my mind is making all these connections. It is piecing everything together and coming up with an impossible conclusion. This cannot be real. Everything is just very blurry right now.
So I ask her the deciding question. I ask her if she is real.
Sorry, she says. I am so sorry. Once, she understood. Now, she is just like everybody else with all the lies and apologies.
No, I say, please just tell me.
She does not speak so I ask her why she is here.
She says that I longed to break out so badly that I simply created her out of nothing. I wonder if this makes me God. I am mentally ill, insane and I am not very surprised at this at all. She says she can't stay so I ask where she is going.
Anywhere but here, she says, and then she smiles, and I smile too. She tells me she will miss me being a part of her lung cancer and I tell her I will miss her feral eyes that made me fall in this imitation of love in the first place.
I can still smell her sweat on my body when she turns to ashes in my palm. I go to the window and there is a shooting star, only I know it is not real. I am just imagining it and I have cocaine in my eyes once more as I wish upon my imaginary star.
I shall not tell you what I wished for, as that is a secret.
(title & included quote taken from bright eyes.)