There were no more trips to the AA sessions for me. In fact it really didn't cross my mind much at all anymore that we were flawed. Drink after drink, we paraded across roofs, danced the night away in strange ballrooms and drove recklessly down lonely desert roads at midday. We were something else then. Stephen carried me home after weekends of wild excursions around the city. There at my doorstep, he smiled at me and told me not to think on such things as I was thinking. He said that everything would be alright and there was no reason to worry about the other part of the world. I think he made appearances at the AA just to appease his wife. But that was how Stephen was, not necessarily a liar, per say; but he was not going to give something up if he could help it. Yes, he would make it appear like he was giving those things up but he was really just painting a picture for someone else in order to have his freedom and have time with his child as well. For me, it was different; I had no one to answer to but myself and my job. As long as my sobriety made an appearance at work, I was doing okay. It was the world of my day job and the world of the other people who lived on the norm. I had to face them every week when Stephen would leave me. I did not know where he went but he disappeared for days. I might recieve a strange call where Stephen would start talking about something and he would never start with hello. It was as if we had never parted and the conversation was going on and on with no end. At first I felt irritated by his lack of responsibility and his dis-regard of time; but then his voice would captivate me and hold me hostage with its kaledoscope of various information that most of society found to be irrelevant. Most people that I worked with would never find the information that flowed from Stephen's mouth to serve any purpose at all. I was balancing things it seemed. I had to keep my job. But by Friday I found myself growing anxious and waiting for my mysterious friend to appear and whisk me away to some unknown destination so that we could continue our debates and colorful rants.
We were like the characters that most dreamt about. The free ones, the ones who ran ahead of the others in search of divination. I saw the world in different ways and with different eyes. The colors of existence were prisms and hues that couldnt have been explained by the most learned of artists. With Stephen, there was no time nor space that we did not belong but yet, we did not belong to anything or anyone. It was pure, it was. It was untainted in its brokeness.
But we rarely even touched. A pat here and a hug there and that was all. We were curiously intimate and yet, we still were not lovers...not at first. It was odd to say the least. You would think by now we would have fallen into the trance of tangled bodies and eager lips; but it was not true. We were as innocent babies with the minds of the aged wisemen.
But it changed. I found myself wanting more as humans are want to do. I don't know why it happened or how. But at some point, I saw him differently. I started to notice the way his hair was a mess when he was angry. I started to notice how his face flushed when his passionate rants got the better of him. I started to notice vulnerability and he let me into his innermost sanctuary of thought. I cannot catalog the exactness of what happened but i remember when my thoughts shifted and I started to welcome the butterflies into my chest. It was like a raging monster and yet it was simple and comforting. And then, within my mind,the finality of it became so true and stark.
One day while waiting on Stephen to come for me, I started to contemplate what it would be like to kiss him. Before the great window in my apartment, I watched my reflection as I run my fingers across my lips. I imagined Stephen's lips against mine with thier taint of Whiskey or Tequila. I imagined the scent of him and his skin hot with passion from his rantings and ravings. I discovered then that I wanted him.
When he came to my home that night, he didn't come to my door. He appeared through the shrubbery and walked right up to the great window and starred at me. His blue eyes were leathal and unknown. I almost did not recognize him anymore as Stephen. He did not smile and he did not speak...he stood there on the other side of my window and let the rain drench his black hair plastering it against his forehead. I felt him...and I cannot explain it more than that but I felt his intensity. I ran to the door and swung it open. The rain pelted my hair and my skin as I ran to where he stood. Stephen turned and smiled at me.
"So...are you sure?"
I was slightly confused but not much. After all this time, I had learned to read him with my eyes. I coudl not yet read his mind but we had developed a code of eye movements, nods of the head and shrugs that made our words sometimes completely unnecissary. I looked into his eyes and my breathing grew rapid. My heart raced and then I smiled. This time I wanted to speak. I wanted to hear my own voice to be sure of my decision.
"yes"
Stephen took my face in his hand and kissed me. He kissed me softly and tasted every part of my mouth. In the downpour of rain, in the front of the great window of my apartment and in front of the night creatures....STephen made love to me for the first time. Then he left with no more words spoken.
It was understood that there was nothing to talk about and that he would be back when I was ready. Because...even if I didn't know it yet, things were different.
...........
"You lied to me, Stephen." I spoke to him when he appeared outside my door.
Stephen stepped inside and looked around. "What did I lie about, exactly, Cynthia?"
"You said we were different. You said that we did not think like they do and that is not true." I fell into the chair by the door and he just kept standing. His frustration was a thick cloud.
Stephen did not speak for a while. He just stood and looked around my apartment. Then with trepidation, he spoke.
"I asked if you were ready and I guess you were not. I cannot give you what you want and I thought we were clear on these things. We have talked and talked the night through and you know I cannot stay here all the time. I cannot hold you every night like the others can."
I grew angry at his ability to read everything about me. Suddenly, my admiration changed to a hideous hurt that I could not conceal for the life of me. "Stop doing that. For one moment, stop reading me. It really isn't fair."
But I knew it was fair enough. Why should I have the ability to lie to him? He knew every emotion and every frustration that grew within me before it was there. His eyes starred into mine as I struggled not to cry.
"Don't do that! Do not cry! That is the thing that is not fair. I give you every stimulation that your mind needs. I gave you every part of my physical being when you crave it. I am here whenever you call to me...so why is it so hard to accept the fact that you cannot own me, you cannot contain me? I am not something in which you can hold down with your thumb, Cynthia. I sometimes wish that ugly part of you would just die. It grows like weeds among the beautiful flowers of your soul, Cynthia." Stephen turned and punched the wall and then kicked at it as well. "I hate them for what they have instilled in you at such a young age. Cynthia, you do not need me to justify who or what you are! Just as I do not need you in order to have the order in my existence. I do not need you....but I want you."
His face grew soft again and he came to stand before me. I felt a strength that no other man had ever shown me. He clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. I would not look up at him. I was angry and hurting for what I knew that I could not have. A part of me wanted him to go away while a part of me wanted him to never leave. I was conflicted and he felt the conflict coursing through every part of my being. I knew this because he then squatted down before me. With a shaking hand, he reached and brushed the hair from my face.
"Cynthia, you are giving me mixed signals. It has never been this hard to read you."
I looked up and into his beautiful blue eyes. They were horrible and beautiful. I saw his deadly gift and I saw what he really was. He was free. It was something that I had longed to be for years but never truly knew what it meant. It was a wild freedom. It was pure in its cruelty.
"Cynthia, what is happening? I cannot read your thoughts." Stephen suddenly looked sad.
I glared at him in hatred and spoke through my clenched teeth..."Good! Now get out!"
No comments:
Post a Comment