“I’m not fond of Tuesdays,” she said, “They’re hard… They often trick me by starting off good, but half-way through something changes and the day grows cloudy. I feel lost, alone, and aimless. The day trickles on and eventually, after 8:30 pm, something changes. I feel better, the day is almost over.”
She lays in bed tonight watching YouTube videos raging from trailers to comedy to music – quietly wishing for a long car ride.
There’s a juxtaposition of silence and sound in a car. The wind blowing, the music blaring, the damn air condition fussing… crafted by a silence of being alone. (If she sings at the top of her lungs, she knows her neighboring car driver will only see her lips moving but will not hear the possible off-key.)
You see no matter how loud the noises sound, the silence feels louder as her thoughts pound themselves out. Hitting, bruising and escaping the inside… they beg to render into the silence of sound.
“You do some good processing in the car, don’t you?” He asks.
A small smile covers her lips as the dots meet.
“I do,” she can’t help but say, maybe realizing this for the first time.
How can she deny the vibrant power of a solo ride? Trapped in a vehicle with the noises within? All she can do is finally confront them. There are no distractions – even the music drowns under the volume of her mind.
She closes her eyes and tries to remember who he was and why he was so important to her. He had decent thoughts but hasty decisions, blocking her out and seeking power.
She didn’t like the way he said her name. His voice crisp and sharp, on edge.
He spoke to her when his anger boiled and thought spoiling her with kisses would dwindle the fire. And maybe it did.
When she was weak and tired, it worked. His kisses dwindled her fire and infatuated her mind. She couldn’t withhold nor found herself resisting because maybe that gentleness felt refreshing.
And somehow, the time past and she found the voice she had once lost. She spoke up and learned to break his habits.
She cut him down, dwindling his fire.
It’s not easy to let go. I pride myself in saying, “She never leaves me.”
She hasn’t tried ever.
At least not yet.
I don’t think she’ll ever want to leave.
But then, her eyes drifted. It was unnerving. Simple, like a tide in the ocean.
Ever so slowly, softly and gently.
Her gaze moved.
And I am worried she won’t want to stay here for much longer.
And I need her.
I can’t let her go just yet.
The room around her was small. She wasn’t sure when it had gotten small, but the air felt less than before. She could hear the pulse of her heart beat slowly, as she quietly sat in her spot.
She was afraid to move.
Afraid he would talk to her and she didn’t want to hear his voice.
She didn’t want him to come back to life. She wanted him to stay still, not move a bone.
Because maybe, she would be able to live with herself if she could pretend nothing had happened. Maybe tomorrow, she could stand up and walk out. Maybe even, she could continue her life unfazed by the incident.
If only, he kept quiet.
For the moment a word came out of his mouth, would be the moment of her downfall.