I stopped by the coffee shop on my way to work this morning and searched the menu for the most caffeinated drink, knowing all along that I wasn’t just tired. I was tired of the quiet, tired of the alone, tired of being tired, and no amount of coffee could ever wake me up from that. I inhaled the smell of freshly ground beans, and thought I caught a hint of pastries. Maybe brownies.
I made brownies with Jane once. Actually, she did all the
baking, but I stood there in the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her as she
stirred the mix, kissed her on the ear from behind. I was pretty useless in the
kitchen, but Jane insisted that baking was a romantic activity, so I played
along. I remember dipping my finger into the batter when she was done.
“Hey! Stop it!”
She swatted my hand away from the bowl, half-angry eyes flashing at me from
behind the strands of hair that had come out of her ponytail during the bustle
of baking and now fell around her pretty face.
“Don’t be mad,” I teased, holding my chocolate covered
finger temptingly in front of her. Suddenly smiling, she arched her eyebrows devilishly
and promptly licked the brownie batter right off my finger.
“How long does
this have to be in the oven for?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes,” she said.
“Well that’s plenty of time…”
I remember how I swept her right up and carried her up
the steps in her pink floral dress and how she laughed up at me as we ran to
the bedroom. I remember how the laughter subsided and we suddenly became very
quiet as I lowered her down onto the bed… how easily her dress slipped off…
***
“Why? What happened?” She looked at me earnestly and
leaned in just a little bit, just enough that I thought I could feel her breath
against my face. Maybe it was just my cheeks growing warm.
“I was crying.” Men aren’t supposed to cry, and I know
this, but I’ve stopped caring about what I’m supposed to or not supposed to do
these days. “I was crying so hard that I started choking. Choked so hard I was
gasping for breath. And for a horrible few seconds there, I knew that was the
end. Death by tears. Can you imagine
that?”
She nodded her head as she scribbled something down in
her frustratingly neat notebook in the lap of her frustratingly pink dress. I’m
sure it said something like, Patient
exhibits signs of depression and suicidal tendencies — or is it a fear of
death?
“You’re not going to die, I can promise you that.”
Shows how much she
knows.
***
I’m not very good at guitar, but I’m decent enough. I
like playing for myself when the house is empty and no one is home to hear my
out-of-tune singing or to notice how off-beat my strumming is. Jane’s caught me
playing on many occasions before, but there was one time that was different
than the rest.
Inspiration randomly struck me one day last December. I
was humming to myself and Jane crossed my mind and I guess I just started
writing a little song in my head. It was a few weeks before Christmas and I had
no idea what to get her anyways, so I figured…maybe I could write her a song.
And so I did.
“Okay, so I’ve never done this before,” I told her
nervously on Christmas morning, guitar in my lap.
“Never serenaded a girl before?” She let out a little
giggle.
“Actually, I’ve played for a girl before — ”
Her eyes widened. Damn, I probably shouldn’t have said
that.
“I mean, I’ve played for a girl before, but it wasn’t
like this. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” I didn’t know how to explain to
her that this was different, that she
was different. “Anyways, here goes.”
Outside the window
there’s a cold winter storm
But with you in my
arms, I’ve never been so warm.
Our legs are all
tangled — don’t know who’s who,
Every morning’s
Christmas when it’s a morning with you…
Jane’s eyes were tearing up a bit, but when I kissed her
I felt a smile on her lips.
***
“There was a full moon last night.” Our meetings always
seem to start this way, with me saying something that means absolutely nothing.
“Yes, I saw. It was quite beautiful.”
“I saw the man on the moon. His eyes, his nose, mouth,
everything.”
“Oh?” Her forehead furrowed slightly with concern.
“He told me I didn’t have long left. He said they’d take
me eventually, the way they took Jane.”
“They’d ‘take’ you? Who is ‘they’?” She seemed sincerely
curious.
“I don’t know. How would I know? I’m just telling you
what he said. But the moon was really very beautiful last night.”
She smiled at me. It caught me by surprise — it was a
nice smile, not the you have a good day
too smile that the cashiers give me at the grocery store, or the we’re looking at a sunny weekend smile
that the weatherman gives me from somewhere far away. An eerie calm washed over
me and the man on the moon faded away to the back of my mind. I wanted to kiss
that smile.
***
I liked showering with Jane, especially in the morning.
She always woke up as soon as her alarm went off, but me, I’d roll around in
bed for another ten minutes until I heard the water start running. That usually
motivated me to get up.
“When will you be back from work tonight?” She asked as
she wrapped a soft towel around her, water droplets from her hair making a little
puddle around her feet.
“Hopefully by seven,” I said, as I idly began to draw the
number “7” on the fogged up medicine cabinet. I proceeded to draw a smiley face
next to it.
“You’re such a child,” she snorted, pushing me out of the
way and opening the cabinet. “Don’t forget to take your pills.”
“Ah, ever the organized one.” Sheepishly, I took them
from her and swallowed. “What would I do without you?”
***
“They talked to me again today,” I said to her. This
time, I was frightened.
“How did they talk to you? What did they say?” I stared
at the pen in her hand, all poised and ready to record my fears.
“The mirror on the medicine cabinet. It fogged up after
my shower. Saw a message. Said I have a week left. Seven days.”
She started jotting something down in her notebook.
I was seized by a sudden panic. “No!” I lunged out for the pen, realizing with horror that if she
wrote down what I said, they’d go after her too. My fingers curled around it,
grasped, slipped…the pen seemed to erase into thin air. “No—you’re all I have left— ”
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