Chapter 9: CHAPTERS TO FOLLOW

I don't stop. I don't know how. I reach for the phone. He hasn't called. I turn the phone on its face and dig deeper into the sheets. The room is blue, the sheets blue, my heart, blue. I think I'm going to die, maybe it won't be so bad. I'm alone again, only this time I know it and I believe it. I reach my arm from the comfort of the down sheets and reach again for my phone. I scroll through my contacts and I stop when I reach "mom." I wait a moment and think. The phone dials. I hear her voice on the other line and I hang up. Fuck it. I turn my phone completely off and lay on my back. I stare at the checkered comfortor above me. I want to be checkered.
I turn to my side, my arms wrapped tightly around my stuffed puppy, a gift given to me years back. I burry my face in the cloth of his "fur" and breathe deep. I close my eyes tight. Just breathe. Lips. Brown eyes. I see his shoulders and his chest. I see his freckles. I see me. I kiss his skin and I breathe in his scent. He smells like the sweetest fragrance of soap. He smells so damn good. He's above me. I run my hands over his triceps and draw him closer. He smiles and kisses me. Open. I sit up against the backboard, my knees huddled into my chest. My stomach turns and I stare straight ahead at the wall. I don't see him anymore, just the walls, just the yellow curtains. Damn it.
I move into the kitchen. The last rays of the afternoon are falling to the table. I stare at it. Sunshine. Fuck it. I boil water and pour it into my cup. Decafinated, only because it's healthy. I used to give a shit. I turn the lights on in the bathroom and let the water flow from the bathtub. I like the echoing it creates - the water churning. I undress myself. I brush my hair to the side, combing out the tangled mats in my hair from the oils. I haven't showered in days. I take a sip of tea. It tastes like shit. Hot shit. I climb into the bath. It feels good. Brown eyes. Green sheets. Soap. I run the bar of soap behind my neck, over my nippes, down my thighs. I slide down gently and let the water cascade over me. I listen. The water fizzles as it receives the soap, turning the water a murky grey. I shut my eyes for moments. He's there waiting. Fuck. I open my eyes. I sit up. The bubbles form around the outline of my body exposing my breasts to the air. It's cold and I cannot get away.
exposing my breasts to the air. It's cold and I cannot get away.
I can't revise my past, like I can this yellow sheet of paper. It can be corrected and simplified, but my mistakes - not so much. Fuck me. I cannot stop crying. How did I let myself get this bad? How could I have ever been so stupid? I wish I were dead. What use am I anyway? No one wants me. No one gives a fuck. And I cannot make them. How could anyone ever love me after the things I've done? I wouldn't. I don't. Fuck you. You are one stupid bitch.
I turn my phone on. Three new messages. Lucky me. A message inquiring, where I am. Another mesage inquiring, if I am okay. Another, simply saying, "I miss you." I stare at the last. I stare at the buttons highlighted on my phone and type. "I miss you too." Lies. Always a lie. The phone lights up and vibrates. "Come over, I really want to see you. I love you baby and I miss you." I type. "I miss you too, so much. I'll be over later on." Another lie. A smiley face comes blaring through the screen. Another lover, who has no idea who I really am. I'm not that girl, I'm really not. I'm only Sara. Simply fucked up, Sara.
I dress. A white tank, a blue blouse and skinny jeans. I wear my new boots that graced the ground of California. So shitty. I put on my jacket and turn the ignition in my car. Pink Floyd hums from the speakers, "I have become, comfortably numb." Appropriate, I think. Whatever. I turn the wheel and back out. On my way. I arrive at his front door. I ring the door bell, but he's already there. I'm annoyed. He pulls me in closely and kisses me hard on the mouth. "Baby, I missed you. How was your grandma's?" I stare at him blankly. "What?, Oh my grandma's you said?" He stares at me. "Oh, it was so good to see her. We went to dinner at her favorite restaurant and it was just such a nice time." He smiles at me. He isn't thrown off by my bullshit remark or the fact that I had absolutely no idea what the fuck he was talking about. Dumb ass. I smile back at him. "I'm so glad to see you." I am such a fuckin liar.
It is late. I climb in bed next to him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek. I should be so lucky, I think. "I love you," he says. I don't answer. I don' t love him. I let him think that I am asleep. I already am in so many ways. It is morning. His alarms sounds. It is six a.m. I climb from under the sheets, rubbing my eyes. I pull off his over- sized shirt and throw his sweats to the floor. I put on the same shirt from yesterday. I pull on my jeans and then my boots. Those damn boots. He's awake. He stands up. He ensconces me in his arms and kisses the back of my neck. I cringe. "I have to get goin' babe. Love you." I lie. He smiles at me and walks me outside to my car. It's freezing, the frost covers the windshield. He stands on his porch, waving good bye. That poor asshole, I think aloud, with a smile. I wave back. Good riddance. I pull out of the drive and just like that, I am gone.
The sun is blinding, peaking over the trees. The leaves have all fallen. It's so ugly here. I press my foot hard against the accelerator. I don't have work today. I don't have anywhere in particular I should be. I am bored. The next few days I exist without ever really existing. I drink tea each morning, shower, read and then I fall asleep. I don't think of anything. I don't think of him. I don't think of California. I don't think of my other lover. I turn my phone off. No one can reach me. I like it this way.
It is Friday. The phone rings. It is my ex-boyfriend. "Come see me. I really miss you and I want to say good-bye before I leave." I shut my eyes. "I cannot see you, you know it won't end well," I say. "Please, Sara. I really just want to see you one last time." I hold my breath. There is silence on the line. "Ok. I will be there in a little while, but I'm not going to stay." I know that I very well could be lying again, not to him, but to myself. Who was I to kid. Of course I was going to stay. I would somehow find my way back into his bed. I hang up and open to a new sheet in my notepad. I write. It isn't about love. I'll never need the love of a man, just the love for adventure. I'm nineteen. I'm lost, but I'm not - in so many ways. I have no idea what this means, but I feel it. I write it and then I close the pad. I roll out of bed and fix my hair in a wooden bird clip I bought in Argentina last year. Five pesos. I stare at the wooden bird and twist the tail. It spins.
I turn down the long gravel driveway to his house. It is blue. He is waiting outside. He comes to my car and opens the door. "Sara", he says. I smile wide at him. "Hello you," I say with sincerity. He takes my arm and we walk to his house. He is the enemy but yet he is still everything I need. I remind myself, this is just an illusion. This is not who he really is. This is just who you want him to be. I enter and sit on his sofa. It doesn't take long and he has his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I shouldn't let him. I wriggle away from him. He catches my hand and smiles at me. "Sara," he says and I stare back. We don't say much else. I smile. I smile because I am happy. I smile because I feel normal again. Whatever that word means. "Sara, I'm changing. I'm not going anywhere this time. I promise you." I look at him. He doesn't mean it. He never means it. I look away and shrug. It doesn't matter to me anymore. I don't believe in promises. They always get broken. I rest my head on the opposite side of the couch arm rest. He grabs my left foot and rests it on his chest. He rubs it. I am comfortable and safe. I fall asleep. Please don't go away.
When I wake, the room is a pleasant green. The window is open and the air smells fresh. I turn slightly to the left and see his sleeping face. I smile. This is bad, I know it is, but for the moment it doesn't matter. It feels good right now. I nuzzle my face into his neck and he wakes. He smiles at me. His eyes are soft and familiar. I feel warm. He kisses me. I kiss him back. We don't stop. We don't know how. He slides his hand up my shirt, lingering briefly on my stomach. He touches the bone pertruding from my hip and gives it a gentle squeeze. He pulls me closer to his body so I can feel him. Our breathing quickens at a rapid pace then chokes off between each kiss, allowing a low groan to pass from my lips. He hears it, the simple "fuck me" call. I want this so bad. I want his touch. I need it. He pulls me on top of him, grabbing my ass with such an intensity that I almost laugh. I don't. It will ruin it. "Sara, I want to make love to you," he whispers between breaths. I kiss him harder and press my hips into his. He bites the bottom of my lip and I shiver. "Stop, please stop. We can't do this," I say. I ruin it. I stop everything. He stares at me with bewilderment. "I can't do this, I'm sorry." I get up. He takes my hand. "No, please don't go. Just stay. We don't have to. Just come back to bed with me." I want to cry. I wanted that so bad, but it wouldn't have been right and I have to do what is right. "Ok," I whisper and lay down next to him. He kisses my neck and holds me close to his body. I fit. We fall asleep. It is easy.
I wake, he is already awake, touching the ends of my hair. "You're so skinny Sara, you don't seem well." I look at him. Stupid boy. Of course I am not well. "I'm fine," I say. He kisses my lips. I stare into his eyes and again I smile. I cannot stop smiling. "What's for breakfast?" I ask, so he thinks I'm still eating. "Whatever you want love." I touch his forehead and kiss it gently. "How about, eggs and chocolate milk," I say. He laughs, "That's a great combination. I think I can get that for ya." We climb down the stairs into the kitchen, his hand touching my back. I take a seat in a chair so I can watch him cook. He places two eggs neatly on the counter, a bowl, a fork and begins. He takes the chocolate syrup from the fridge and exclaims "one chocolate milk for a special lady, coming right up." I laugh. God, he is so cute when he wants to be. I drink all of my chocolate milk and eat some of the eggs, shoveling spoon fulls into his black labrador's greedy mouth. The labrador paws my lap and I giggle, giving her another spoonfull. He thinks this is cute and watches me. He's so dumb, if he only knew what I was doing. If he really only ever knew.
I finish. I walk to the sink and begin washing the dishes. He wraps his arms around my waist. "Stop that," he whispers in my ear. I shiver. I always loved when he would whisper in my ear. I loved the warmness of his breath. I drop the dish into the scalding soapy water below. I turn to him. He kisses me. I kiss him back. He grabs my ass and puts me up on the counter. I wrap my legs tight around his waist and kiss him harder. It's almost violent. He pushes me hard against the cabinet and I push back with my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses mine. He kisses my chest. I moan. I cannot help myself. I cannot contain myself. This feels so right. It's happend so many times before. He takes me from the counter, making his way back up the stairs. We don't stop. He carefully places me on his bed, removing my pants. I let him. He pushes himself on top of me, thrusting against me. I grab hard onto the back of his neck. He licks mine. I could die in extasy.
We finish. I laugh. I feel good. We shower together, like we had months before. He brushes out my hair. We lay together for the remainder of the afternoon, talking about where we went wrong. He asks me about my whereabouts and the months that passed. I tell him a few things but nothing close to everything. He feels accomplished, I can tell. He thinks he has broken down my walls. Nothing close. I lay in his arms and we doze off into a gentle sleep. When we awake, it is late afternoon. The sky is dark. "I have to go," I say. He nods. He understands. "See me tomorrow Sara?" I look at him. "Of course," I whisper. You are my addiction.
I take the long way home. I don't think about anyone. I don't think about happiness or saddness. I don't think much about anything except for the song on the radio. I turn on my phone. Texts. And lots of them. Whatever. I text my "other lover", accurately named. Because that's all he is, is just a name. "This isn't working. I don't love you. I'm sorry." I turn off my phone and follow the yellow lines. One down. I ex him off my grocery list. He falls off the shelf, into my shopping cart. Check. I am so fucked up.
I park at the over look and climb down the path towards the lake. It is cold. It numbs me. I am already numb. I take a blunt from my coat pocket. I've had it rolled for weeks. I light it. I smoke it. I breathe it in so deep. I exhale. The smoke climbs from my lungs and into the evening air. I laugh. I watch the flame on the front as I inhale again. It flitters. It is the color orange and yellow- a summer flower that grows each year around the lake. I used to like flowers. The lake is calm tonight. The wind is calm, but it's fuckin freezing. I am high. So high. I stare out into the darkness. I hear the waves licking the rocks. They must be salty. I laugh again. I kill the roach and wait for it to cool. I place it back in my pocket. I sit for a while longer. I'm too stoned to drive.
I don't make it "home." I don't actually make it anywhere. I stay on the rock by the lake. I stay high. I wake up. Fuck. It's still dark. I shuffle across the rocks, the tips of my flats banging against them. I'm fucking freezing, holy shit. I climb up to the top of the path and let myself into the car. I start it. "You're awesome Sara," I say into the rearview mirror and blow myself a kiss. Such an ass. The CD I have on repeat plays. I press reject. I roll down the window. "See ya later," I say. I toss the CD onto then gravel and run it over. I hope she finds it, crushed into pieces, her writing across the front of it. I speed off into the darkness, my hands frozen to the steering wheel. Fuck off.
An invitation. I don't say much of anything, just the words OK. I don't really want to go though. I won't have much to say, but still I say ok. Dinner is silent, I fill my plate with spaghetti and meatballs. What the fuck am I going to do with this? I'll get sick just looking at it. I twist the fork and take small bites, chewing longer than the average human. "So, how have you been," he asks. I shrug my shoulders. "I've been ok. Work is going real well." I lie. I haven't been to work in weeks. "How is where you're staying, you like it and everything?" I look at him. I think to myself, I wonder if he wants me to answer this seriously, like I have a choice where I'm living. "It's nice. I really like it." What I meant to say was that, I do love it, far away from everything that hurts me, far away from you. I could inquire about his life to be polite, but I don't care. His girlfriend sits to his left. She stares at me. When I look at her, she smiles. I shift my stare from her direction back to the spaghetti. Disgusting. Her or the spaghetti, I'm not sure. Maybe both. I don't say anything else, either does he. It's a shocking silence suspended over us like a storm on the horizon. I'm certain they're uncomfortable and it makes me happy.
It's good-bye. Just when things want to work. Just when things can be okay, it's good-bye. We stay the afternoon in his room making love, touching and kissing. I'm happy again. I feel. He's leaving soon, the sun falls behind the trees and the room darkens. My stomach sinks and I stare at him, taking in each inch of his skin. "I love you," he says and pulls me closer. He shuts his eyes and I kiss his forehead. It's just like before, before all the maddness transpired. I nestle in his arms, "I love you too," I say and this time I mean it. I am scared, because I feel it. Those words mean so much when I say 'em to him and I want them so bad not to. It's cold outside, his car door is open. He places his bags in the passenger seat. I watch. He draws me in and places his forehead to mine. "I love you." We kiss. I feel whole again. "See you soon," I say and he smiles. He pulls out the drive and I'm left standing there. I'm alone, but not lonely. The stars are out tonight and I feel like me. I feel like Sara.
ANALYZE

Analyze. I take the notepad from the drawer. I write. I, am not a bad person. I just do bad things. I think, I think I did those crazy things because I was looking for an out, an escape from reality. I was looking for someone to fill the crevice in my heart, to paste together the pieces. I was searching for love, that feeling, that choice. I was searching for someone to fill his place. He had been all I ever wanted and now I have him again. I feel happy. I stare at the alarm. I like its gunmetal color and ticking hands. I think it's nice. I think, I can be nice.
Another invitation. Breakfast. I do not want to eat but I order a glass of chocolate milk and a swiss cheese omelet. I take a few bites. I stare at the menu, at all of the local businesses pasted on the page. I study them, but nothing is happening in my mind. The sun is coming through the dining window and illuminates the entire place. I take a pen from my purse and doodle on the page. I think of all the business owners and their high hopes for income, for advertising, their money spent for me to draw. I feel bad. I put away the pen. I look across the table at him. This could be ok, I tell myself, given the chance. I take another bite. I feel gross. I stop eating. He inquires, "Not hungry this morning?" I am never hungry. I reply, "My stomach feels a little strange, thats all." The conversation is dull. It could be better, if only I would allow it. But I am too stubborn. I just won't let it go.
He pushes a hundred dollar bill across the table under the bill. $18.00. I am angry again. We have no fuckin money. I have no fuckin money. I am struggling to survive. I cannot buy anything. I can barely pay my bills. There is no money. I want an education and yet I cannot afford one. There is breakfast. Eighteen dollars. A hundred dollar bill. He takes it from his wallet and pushes it under the fuckin' bill. Fuck. I should be greatful. What a wonderful breakfast. I should be greatful. He's talking to me again. I should be greatful. There exists opportunity for restoration. I should be so fuckin' greatful but I'm not. I'm so fuckin' angry. Fuck.
Let me out, I'm going to throw up. She pulls on the side of the road, her four ways blinking in the night. I huddle over and hurl. I hop back in the car and flatten my head into the head rest. "Are you annorexic? Are you bullimic? You know you can tell me if you are, I wont tell anyone." "I'm not annorexic, I'm just sick, thats all. Lets go home." "Well, I hope you feel better." " "Yeah, me too," I say. I turn the key in the apartment. I throw my bags on the sofa and throw off my jeans. They're almost off anyway, they no longer fit. I get some chocolate milk out of the fridge. I drink it. It tastes good, cascading my throat. It's lonely at night. I guess I'd admit it. I take my pad from my purse. I carry it everywhere with me. I write. I am so complicated and yet so simplistic. Nevermind, I am very complicated. I am a mixture of emotions, mostly angry. I am too cynical for my own good. I only look at the bad. I don't see goodness just black. Black is bad. I turn over to a blank page. The previous explains absolutely nothing.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.11.2009

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