Here's that dream I had a while back. I said I was going to write it out and then change it up. But no. I've re-read it and I'm going to post it as I wrote it that morning. Maybe I'll change grammatical errors and misspellings, but then again, I wouldn't count on it.;
As I was getting dressed, I glanced through the blinds. I saw HIS truck pull up. What was he doing here? Here of all places. My fathers house. The house I'd grown up in. The place where I was guaranteed solitude. He had no right to come. I quickly found a dress and put it on. Then jumped beneath my covers. I guess it should be better to have him see me reading in my bed than waiting for him.
I heard him come in and my mother sent him off in the direction of my room. My blue room. He knocked on the door.
"Come in" indifference in my voice. He came 'round to sit on my bed next to my feet. Only then did I see her with him.
"Hey" he finally said.
"Hello" and a quick 'friendly' smile at her. She who then sat on my chair. and Leaned on his arm.
"Listen, I feel I need to clarify something." He placed his hand on my covered knee. I sat waiting. My face ignoring the pounding of my hears. "That's why I'm here..." He went on to explain his relationship with her, and how much we're 'just friends'. At least that's what I thought. My hearing was consumed by a ringing and I was too distracted by his eyes on mine. Something he doesn't normally do. He usually averts his eyes from mine, and keeps his hands to himself. Usually. Now his eyes stayed on me. If not my eyes, then just me. And his hands stayed on my person too. She went back and forth between gazing at him and glaring at me while he spoke...
He finally faltered for words. That or he thought he'd stated his case clearly. Though the numb ringing stayed. He just looked at me. His eyes full of a caring that could not (would not) be expressed...
"Stop touching me." I'd found my voice, though it was weak. She smirked. He didn't move his hands.
I pushed away, off the other side of my bed. And stumbled to my dresser. Realizing I'd not gotten completely dressed, I scrambled for a pair of underwear. I could now feel the numbness in my face and a new pressure behind my eyes. Good thing I'd chosen a dress. Neither of them looked at me now. She'd turned towards the window, he still stared where I'd laid. I quickly pulled them on. Good thing I'd been in scouts. She got up and left the room after I don't know how long, still indifferent to me. I took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of my bed. But I refused to fill this silence. For fear of letting myself show.
"I came here for her you know." He finally broke, still staring at my bedding.
"I gathered." I fought to keep indifference in my tone. And on my face.
"She got this weird idea that you thought I was in love with you or something." He believed these words he spoke to jokingly. "I kept saying we're just friends."
This would be an instance where I would have loved to run to my closet and cry. I did long now for my strange refuge. My comforting sanctuary. Instead I decided to answer him. And I couldn't tell a lie. "I never thought you were in love with me." Oh, so much rode on the barely emphasized words in my 'on the verge of cracking' voice. He looked up at me again. We stared at each other, then around the room in silence.
I'd come here, so far away form my life, to be away from him, and her.
I heard the water turn on in the bathroom and gazed blankly at the sound through the wall. It took me a while to realize he was talking. Saying something about her, and her beautiful dancing and her... Oh whatever. I wasn't listening. I was lost in a reverie.
She came back in wrapped in a towel. How odd. She asked a question about something in the bathroom. I must have answered, but I don't recall. Then she turned, and she in all her 'perfectness' left to return to the bathroom. I'm not sure if he'd left the room or not, but I stood, with no memory of my surroundings, took my pointe shoes and quit the room.
I needed to be outside...
On the front porch, I could hear the murmurs of people talking inside, and the main street traffic that passed by the front of this house, the faint noises of the not so distant interstate, and all of the local businesses which surrounded our exit. All the children at the school on the next block, the dogs of the neighborhood enjoying themselves, the breeze breaking through the tops of the trees. Combined, they made up the muffled numbness of ringing that continued to fill my ears.
I put my ballet shoes on, and moved about my front porch. I walked upon the ledge and down the graduated balustrade on the sides of the stair. I don't know how long I was there, staring out at nothing. I could sense I was crying. But I didn't care. He had come and done what he needed to do for her. He loved her. We could only ever be friends. I knew we couldn't even be that anymore. I knew it before. Which was a factor in my coming back here. But now I 'Knew' it. I'd heard it straight from the horses mouth. He came all this way on a word from her, and broke my heart. Again.
I turned to go back inside. It's no good to wallow in misery. Best to just move on. When I stepped into the living room from the entryway, I caught a glimpse of them leaving through the mud room. They'd changed their clothes. She was in a teal, metallic pants and accessories, with a black top, set. Him in a silver suit with matching shoes and top hat.
I soldiered on through the house slowly. Through the living room, the sitting room, the beloved and happily exposed dinning room, finally through the narrow kitchen towards the back stair.
"Have they gone?" I asked my brother who stood by the mudroom door at the far end of the kitchen. He made no answer. But I saw him then. Through the hinged doorway of this old house. He saw me. He saw my tears.
Then the door adjusted, and they both ventured down the steps towards and out the back door.
By my head, I hoped to never see him again. But by my heart; it was breaking for I still loved him.
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