Two Pages I Found Under My Bed

"C'mon, Mel, you used to love to throw down!"
He hands me a luke-warm beer and a smile.
I don't know his name, and after searching my memory I realize that I never did. He was a thick build, a rough dresser; but his face was kind. Inviting.
Well whoever he is, he doesn't know me too well either; I hate beer.
I hand the beer back to Thick and give him a quick kiss on the cheek as I walk through the entrance and into a sea of partially wasted twenty-ish year-olds.
Grabbing something cold, clear, and bottled from an oversized ice bucket I head towards the music.
I start small talking a girl from my psych class - Kim, or Katie or something like that. Honestly, I was just glad to see a familiar face, because so far I'd only recognized a few one night stands and a cat-fighting frienemy or two.
I wasn't feeling comfortable enough yet, so I headed back for a second bottle. As I struggled with the cap for a moment I felt a gentle hand on the small of my back and a husky but sober voice at my ear.
"What's your name, babe?" He half-yelled into my eardrum (the music level had been steadily increasing).
"Stacy," I lied to him,"you?"
"Evan. I think we had a health class together, yeah?"
Wrong. Evan looked a lot like that one guy off of Greek - the one that started off really geeky who was that one girl's brother? Evan smiled confidently and used a little too much eye contact. There was an innocence to him though, possibly fake, but it was a little difficult to judge character in such a crowded apartment.
"Right, I remember! You sat near the front." I smiled a reassuring smile that had him confused.
Apparently he's a back-row sorta guy.
I held out my drink for him to get me another; I figured that way he'd have a little extra time to plan out his next move.
My stomach was feeling a little cramped & upset, but I knew if I just drank a little faster it'd eventually wash away. Alcohol never did settle with me well.
"So what's your major?" Evan asked as he fought his way back through the crowd with a red plastic cup in his hand.
Original question, Ev. "Biochemical Engineering." I lied again.
"Ouchhhh. I'm pre-law myself, so one day I'll be able to arrest you for being so damn beautiful."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head out of embarrassment for him. He knew it was cheesy from the giant grin he was sporting, but he'd gone for the kill anyways.
"Let's go dance, Evan." I grabbed him by the hand and gulped down the last of whatever he'd put together. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't drink drinks that someone else made after a friend of mine got roofied, but Ev didn't seem like the kind of guy who even knew where to get roofs, let alone slip me one.
I danced so close to Evan that I could tell he wasn't comfortable. He'd given me a funny look after I'd swallowed down that last drink so quickly. I pressed my hips to his and he smiled a surprised but knowing smile.
"Let's find someplace quieter...to talk." I yelled in his ear halfheartedly. I've played this through so many times that I pretty much had it scripted. I grabbed a few jello shots from a passing tray as I led Evan away.

Sound-Touch Synesthesia

Last Wednesday

My mother is full of silly parables.
"Eating the butt of a chicken makes you beautiful."
"Where ever you go, there you are."
“A minute on the lips, forever on the hips.”
She also makes THE greatest black bean soup.
One of her favorites is something along the lines of, "At the gates of Heaven, the angels count how many showers you’ve had, and if you don't have at least one per day they send you to the very back of the line.”
It's my favorite, too. It's so silly. As a kid I'd always laugh it off whenever she said that, but I'd secretly shower three times in a day whenever I was feeling superstitious. To me, everything my mother said was written in stone.

I couldn’t even open my eyes it was so intense.
“We should totally go for a joyride right now!”
Rhonni was absentmindedly strumming something complicated on her mandolin.
I took slow, deliberate breaths.
“Nottttt too sure I can walk right now, let alone drive.” I spoke quietly as I laid sprawled out across the carpet of her bedroom.
“I’ll drive. No biggie! C’mon, you’re gonna love this!”
I stood and my body went into tiny waves of convulsion – sort of like the sound a toy accordion makes, but with sharper edges.
Blindly, I stumbled down two flights of stairs and struggled with the handle on her old blue truck. The corners of my mouth were forced upwards into a perpetual grin that was beginning to sting.
As Rhonni drove I felt the essence of my body evaporate delicately, as if I was a bottle of expensive whiskey smashed against hot concrete.
My colors were even brighter and heavier than usual. They pressed against my chest and seeped down into my nervous system, leaving all five of my senses muddled and my mind completely clear.
“Get ready to dance.”
That was all she said before she blasted the single most incredible song I have ever heard.
I could feel the bass line spiraling within me; a thick iron coil leisurely rotating in time with the harmony.
The guitar’s strings sliced through the muscles of my back and shot out from under my fingernail beds.
The piano’s ivory keys sat gently on top of my stomach like my mother’s favorite ceramic casserole dish.
“Do you feel this?!” is all I could manage to say. I kept yelling it to her over and over again. My voice a deep, silky shade of eggplant that wrapped around my ears like satin sheets.
“Holy shit! Ho-ly shit!” was her response – I assumed that was a yes.
My body lurched and shook as it danced like the women who flail about and curse in tongues at church services.
I cried tears of absolute bliss while my heart stuttered and faltered like a new born colt that can’t quite stand on its own.
My spine was a braid of tightly woven wicker that crackled and creaked as I moved; the music’s notes flipping and bouncing within my ribs like cold silver medallions.
All of my thoughts, worries, and consciousness slammed into the back of my skull as I pried my eyelids open for the first time in what felt like hours.
I was on all fours, kneeling next to Rhonni’s truck on the side of the interstate as I vomited bits of burning, salty leaves.
God, I miss my mom.

Fuck October.

"Love will be the death of me, love is so fickle; it starts with a flood and ends with a tr-tr-tr-tr-trickle." - Regina Spektor

Monday, June 15th 2009

Melanie's Story Part I

Quietly, he spoke.

"Well then I can't see you any more."

I searched his face quizzically, trying to figure out where exactly this was coming from. Definitely not his backbone, that's for sure.

"Then open your eyes, Craig! This - this isn't something you can just run away from! I can't run, and you're tied to me. Life isn't a three-legged race, Craig. We have to take this slow, together, okay? Step by step. Together."

"I can't, Mel. I just...I just can't."

I pressed a hand against my stomach. Apparently it was as sick of his bullshit as I was.

"I didn't do this to myself! WE did this! We made this...this..."
"-mistake."
I couldn't believe the word he'd chosen to finish my sentence.

"To be honest I was going to say 'baby', but apparently I was way off base. It's too late for the alternative, Craig. WE HAVE NO OPTIONS. We're just going to have to roll with the Goddamn punches."

The look he gave me said everything. He was always the kind of person who would just get frustrated when he couldn't move his emotions from his heart to his mouth, which is where I came into play. I felt incredibly calm, which so surprised me; I was picturing a complete meltdown.

"I know that you don't love me; not anymore, at least. To be honest, Craig, I'm not in love with you either. Your fingernails are way too long, and you only wash your hair like twice a week. Not exactly attractive."
I sighed a defeated sigh. Maybe this kid is going to be a superhero, because I have no idea where my strength is coming from.

"I don't have the money, or the time, and neither do you. But combined, maybe...maybe we can be our own little dysfunctional family."

He was pacing back and forth, slowly and deliberately. I stepped in front of him, staring him in the face.
"Craig, maybe we can do this."
Pressing both of his hands to his forehead, Craig slowly shook his head.

"Well. I'm not gonna lie, that's disappointing."

Together we just stood there for a second, kicking at the ground and staring off into the distance past the lakeshore. Words just kept coming out of my mouth, even though I knew I should probably keep to silence.

"You know, in third world countries like Cambodia or Somalia or whatever they used to have these things called "menstrual huts". When women were on their periods they would be exiled to just sit in these huts, because men in like the 1400's thought that the shedding of uteral lining was witchcraft voodoo or Santaria or something. Except they probably didn't actually CALL them "menstrual huts" at the time seeing as how they thought it was some form of really icky, evil magic."

Probbbbably not the best conversational topic.

Taking an embarassed second to clear my throat, I decided to wrap things up.
"Wellllpp, you've got about what?, five or six months to find your balls? So, if those two little bundles of fertile joy show up and you decide to do something halfway valiant by being a father to your own child, why don't you shoot me a text or facebook me or something. I'm probably not going to want to talk to you or see you, so impersonal communication is most likely the best route to take. But hey, what do you know about the best route, right? Have a good life, asshole."

I had a feeling that things would turn out this way.
Take a little advice from me and listen to your gut.
Mine used to be full of good judgement, but now it's probably got something in it that looks like a newborn panda surrounded by placenta goo.

Wednesday, June 24th 2009

Melanie's Story, Part II

It's been two months since the talk, and I'm still pathetically hopeful.
I mean, hey - everyone always says a woman is always a mother, a man is a father once he sees his child. Maybe...maybe he just needs to see her.

I took a deep breath for both of us.
The whole school knew by now, and all of my friends were still deciding. Still deciding if they should stay, or run, or just drop off a gift at my baby shower and then pretend like they don't know me the next day. It's a very subtle thing they're doing; trying to be supportive but also slowly giving me more 'space' until they finally stop visiting altogether.
I don't blame them, I wouldn't want to associate with me either.
I'd been taking a walk through the city's park, which is always empty on a Thursday. I stopped to take a rest at one of the benches closest to the water, holding my little girl from the outside of my belly.
I closed my eyes and just let my mind float between my thoughts, slipping around the corners of my ideas, weaving in and out of them.

Ezra. Ezra...something.

I've always adored that name. In Hebrew it means "help", and I always thought that was so fitting for a newborn - especially an unexpected one. Most new parents are so freaked out by the time that their kid is almost ready to be born that they are just about to kill each other. When their baby arrives, it soothes them into the nurturing mothers and fathers they need to be. The baby helps their relationship.
In my case, however, Ezra's going to be a different kind of help.
God willing, she's going to keep me sane.
Hugging my belly, I got comfortable and started to tell my Ezra a story.
"Once there was a sailor whose lover was The Sea. As soon as he was old enough to work on a boat, he got a job as a laborer. He soon became the captain of his very own ship, which he happily sailed all around the world until he was an old man. Every night he would go to his cabin below the deck and let the beautiful songs of The Sea lull him to sleep, his lover only seperated from him by a few inches of wood and metal. As an old man, one night the sailor became completely despondent. Do you know what that means, baby girl? That means he was so heartsick he couldn't fight any longer. He sat on the deck of his glorious ship, drinking bottle after bottle of wine, toasting to the health of his lover The Sea. Out of his mind with both heartache and liquor, the sailor tied a cannonball around his ankle, and climbed over the railing of his ship. Declaring his love for The Sea, he begged her to let him love her. He explained that he'd never wanted one being so much in his life. Never felt so connected; so connected that the mere inches of distance between them was so painful he couldn't bare it."
Taking a few moments to push the tears back down my throat, I continued.
"The Sea, feeling his pain and realizing her own feelings for him, sent a giant wave towards the sailor's ship, sending the man right into her loving embrace. To this day, if you listen closely enough, you can hear their laughter in the crash of every wave."

Sunday, March 23rd 2008

I Don't Want To Be Spaghetti

As I listen to your heartbeat I simultaneously count down the minutes until I have to leave you.
I have to leave soon.
My hands run up and down your chest absentmindedly.
I realize I’m not listening to what you’re saying and I start to feel guilty again.
God, I have to leave soon.

I’m trying so hard, honest-to-God.
I want you.
I want this to work.
The cliche definition of the ultra-good kiss is "fireworks".

For me it’s more like dual existentialism, you know? Like nothing exists but the both of us.
That’s how it is, really.
Each kiss shoots straight through your body, almost burning.
I love that we can smile and laugh mid-kiss. It’s one of my favorite "us" things.
Every kiss is still like that.
Really.
Everyone one of them.

Damn! I’m still not listening to what you’re saying.
I give my head a quick shake and sit up so that I can see your face.
Listen to him for God’s sake I plead with myself;
This is the first time you’ve seen him in weeks!
I never win, even in arguments with myself.
How pathetic.

I need to leave really soon.

I lay down next to him and he points at a cloud.
"That one looks like a racehorse, doesn’t it? Huh? "
"...no, not really."
" It totally does! You have no imagination."

He says this last bit in a sarcastic tone. We both know that my imagination is pretty much all I’ve got.

"What do you see then?"

I really do look for a moment. Intently I search for something in the sky above us. Maybe the stupid fucking answer is up there.
It isn’t.

I breathe in poignantly and draw out my reply.
" I see clouds."
Somehow he finds this funny.
Why does he find me so humorous? Nothing I say is ever any good.

"Look....I really do need to leave soon."
"You don’t seem like you want to leave."
"I - I don’t want to leave. I just need to."
"Do you even like me anymore?"
"What? Why would you ask that?"
"Nevermind...you need to leave. Let’s get going."

I note that the sunset is both purple and orange.

Friday, June 12th 2009

Category:Love Games

I caught his eye and we both supressed a smile.

He had this innocent look in his eyes; the kind of innocence that's just begging to be corrupted.
"So, good day, Ash?"
Oh my Lord, how cute is that? Calling me Ash like the one off of Pokemon, a-dorable.

"It's gotten significantly better in the last five seconds, D."
We walked into a record store, playfully shoving each other.
I'm almost a little ashamed of myself at this point, because I'm pretty sure the only reason I want him is because he's so...so pure. And the worst part is that it's not because I'm looking for pure...it's because I wanted to twist him. Bend and mold him into something different.
Our fingers touched and I could feel each one of my fingerprints smouldering.
"S-s-so what'd you do today?" Aww, he stutters! He couldn't be any cuter, not even if he had pockets full of newborn puppies and two-year-old Olsen twins.
I rambled for a few solid minutes about cleaning my kitchen and comparison shopping for produce. The whole time I spoke he listened intently, nodding and chuckling and I just couldn't take it anymore.
I grabbed D's arm, shoving him into a rack of "Soul/R&B" vinyls.
Running my hands up and down his sides, I kissed him; a thick, fleshy kiss that definitely surprised him, and I was really glad that I'd remembered to chew a piece of gum to hide the cigarette I'd had earlier. I moved my mouth to his neck, letting my hands run all over his arms. My conscience got the best of me when a young girl tried to squeeze passed us.
I ran my hands through my hair, my signature nervous tick, and tried to think of something to say.
"So, uh, how was yourrr day?"
He looked at me, transfixed, then cracked a smile.
"I'd have to say it's gotten significantly better in the last five seconds."

Success.

Thursday, April 30th 2009

Distracting Myself

So, imagine you're in a car.

Yes, I know this is silly, but just do it for me.

You're in a car, and you're sitting next to someone that absolutely puts the color into your world, you know? Someone that just knocks the socks right-the-hell off of your feet. And I mean, you've got some serious emotions that are just clawing their way up your esophagus, fighting so so hard against the back of your teeth.
They just want to see the light of day...not to mention the flecks of orange in that other person's eyes that you're always thinking about.
Huh? Oh yeah, so anyways
The other person is o-fucking-blivious to everything you're feeling. I mean, it feels like every capillary in your circulatory system is twisting and knotting around the muscles they surround. Your heart is just absolutely screaming, but they're too busy babbling away about grindcore or some shit to even so much as wonder what it is you're feeling.

But you're like a pro at this shit. I mean you've known this person for a while now, at least a few years, so you've mastered the civil war going on between your internal organs, and you've explained to them who's the frickin' boss.
Yes, smartass, the boss would be you in this scenario.
Jesus, can I go on? Are you okay with that?

So, where was I? Yeah, okay, so, you're a pro at controlling this insane crush you've got going on, but then - they touch you. They fucking touch your everloving skin. We have skin-to-skin contact. And I mean, roots just burst from the bottom of your heart and the tips of those roots lock tight around your toes.
It feels like each and every one of your skin cells is shaking with excitement.
It's that good.


Well...I mean, you're like...
Well, you're the other person.