those blurred lines
the past beats inside me like a second heart
― John Banville, The Sea
Later that day.
She lays there peacefully, for now, dreams slipping into her unconscious mind. Grey sheets tangled up in pale limbs, the covers spread in a messy heap on the floor by the bed, legs and arms exposed to the chill in the room, a black t-shirt the only thing keeping her warm. There’s something about the way she lays on the bed. The almost still sadness, wrapping around her as if a cold embrace waiting yet to attack, body curling itself into a ball, fingers grabbing things that will always remain out of reach.
That’s how you can taste emotions when studying her, but then, you notice the canvas and the colors. The dull background of a late Autumn afternoon trapped in the four humble walls, the soft grey tones of the sheets, the paleness of her skin contrasting with dark tones of her hair, and the simple fabric hugging her delicate curves. Maybe that’s what you would see if she were a painting, a contrast of blacks, whites, and lost greys in between. Nothing was obvious about this living art, and the more you would look, the more you might see, digging deeper and deeper under the layers that she puts up as a disguise. But nothing really hides the pain, does it?
She falls even farther into her slumber. Body becoming slowly restless, visions sinking into the tired mind, and becoming irregular dreams.
Dreams, nightmares, memories. Lost time and still felt wounds.
The same visions from a few days ago, start to fill her mind slowly. This time though, they aren’t as foggy and unclear as before, when seen through different eyes. This time she notices things from new angles, played slower and from the end. The past unfolding before her, guiding her to the beginning.
Brown sweater spread over a wooden chair, a shimmering light falling through the old blinds, and a golden watch still in its place on the nightstand. Not touched for over twelve years, waiting for his quiet return.
Dirt being frown over a wooden box as she stands there, a simple black dress covering her tired body. It’s so thin, those bones like sharp edges to her pain. It’s been a long time coming to this moment, the last couple of years being really rough... and as she stands there, her shoes sinking into the still-wet grass, the heat of the sun manages to touch her back.
The last feeling of warmth that she would ever remember.
The scene changes abruptly, and the memories shift, filling slowly with faded color glass tones and simple joys of life.
A yellow bike that fell to the ground, Connie cries so much, but she is a brave little trouper because... big girls don’t cry, momma.
Only sometimes, baby, only sometimes.
Tiny soft hands around my neck, she’s only two and knows how to show it with those sweet pudgy fingers, making her father smile every time.
John’s callus fingers on my stomach, the little one is kicking again. We leave the windows open in the summer, it’s too hot to sleep... our hours filled with whispers and slow caresses in the night.
Delicate golden bands set on eager fingers, a sweet beginning to the rest of our lives. I wanted this wonderful man for so long, and now he is finally mine, and I am his... this house will be filled with warmth and love, amidst the voices of our children, and then grandchildren to come. With always welcoming arms and plenty of kindness to spare.
The last memory comes as if from some deepest kind of void, showing me a vision I have never seen before. It stops me almost breathless.
...he turns around amongst the early Autumn leaves, gazes at me, and smiles as if he knows me. As if he has always known me. Just like that. And a feeling spreads inside of me gently as if that one soft smile consisted of the sun, its first morning rays warming my skin.
I move around in bed, tears dripping down the pillow, yet my eyes stay closed. I’m unable to face reality yet. It’s just too much. So, instead, I focus on those memories that are Clare’s but now belong to me as well. I latch on to the parts that keep me warm and which will help me sleep again. Just for a little while longer, only a little more. Please.
Sleep slowly embraces her once more as she feels those fingers on her flat stomach, but in her dreams, she feels the baby move around and kick. A gentle smile settles on her lips as she fades away into sweet nothingness. But those thoughts. They make her mind travel into different places, to him. She tries to stop it as she feels it coming, a new dream, but there is nothing she can do. All the things that were blocked start to return to her. Images before her eyes shifting and coming into focus. It’s her living room, but it’s not. It’s theirs. Her heart stumbles a bit, seeing him standing by an open window with a cigarette burning between the fingers. He lifts it to his mouth and inhales without rush, his thoughts somewhere far away. So far, that she worries that she might not reach
them this time, yet she tries nonetheless. Never giving up on him, on the things they have built together.
What’s wrong?
She hears the echo of her own voice as she asks the question. This day has already happened, but she can’t stop it, her only option is to relieve the same moment, missing him even more.
Nothing, I’m just tired. You know how the business can be.
She’s not fooled, yet often she fears the answers that may come.
You’re not telling me everything.
Love, come on.
His hands stretch out slowly both in frustration and a soft plead as smoke dances around his fingers.
You will tell me eventually. I will make sure of that.
A small exhausted smile, and the tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes. The light in the room shimmers, getting brighter, the picture slipping from her grasp.
It’s going to be alright, El.
She comes closer to him, her hand resting on his arm, slowly sliding down to the wrist. I want to keep him. The plead grows in her head as the memories and the present blend together as one.
What if it’s not?
He looks at me, my fingers hugging his pulse.
I like when you do that... it always calms me down, like nothing else in this world.
What if it’s not?
I repeat the words gently, something heavy rising in my chest, spreading in hushed waves. He’s leaving me again. Just stay, just please stay. My mind begs as the scene continues.
Then we will deal with it when it comes.
Dan...
He puts out the cigarette, burning the end against the windowsill, and throws it out while his other hand moves to my back, fingers wandering under the material and finding the most sensitive spot. My body shivers with pleasure just from that slight touch. I almost forget that this isn’t real.
I think we dried out the subject. How about I deal with you now?
He bends down his head, lips brushing against my neck as I extend it. My natural response to his gentle caress, just like the lazy murmurs that fall out of my mouth. Just him and me, us.
You’re not going to get... out of this... so easy.
I say, a bit breathless, sensing his smile against my skin, feeling only him.
Then at least let me try.
His hand around my back pulls me closer, fingers sinking into my skin as he turns me his way, whispering against my lips just before he devours me slowly.
Everything is going to be just fine. I promise, love. Nothing will ever separate us, you have my word.
That touch on my skin, his musky smell that I loved so much. That greedy stare, always seeming to fill every single cell in my body. As if his eyes were yet another caress. I start to feel his kiss, as something seems to tear my lungs with a rusty, dirty blade. It’s my own sob, waking me up.
Nothing is ever going to be fine. I sit up in my bed and wrap arms around the knees, shivering, more tears dripping down my face, heart moving at an irregular pace. It’s pained again. With shaky hands, I grab my cell phone and search for a number. Ten rings hit my ears as I try not to think about anything. Just don’t think. Finally, he answers.
Can you come over?
A moment of silence.
Why? Did something happen, do you need help?
No. It’s okay, promise. But I’m feeling a bit off.
You just said...
I need some company, Charlie.
The words blur out with speed, and something tells me that he’s nodding slowly.
I’m wrapping up soon and should be at your place in an hour. Hungry?
Always. Even when the world crumbles away.
He doesn’t answer right away, but I know that he’s smiling.
Okay, soon. Wait for me.
I look outside the dark window and watch the night creep deeper, even if it’s only the middle of the day, it already feels like an ending. Maybe its a sign. My head shakes as I try to regain some focus. It doesn’t matter. It’s just dark outside, and you had way too many dreams to handle. My mind says, rationalizing what I saw, as my heart feels as if it’s sinking into itself. But as always, I ignore it. It’s the only survival instinct I have left. I’m good at it, at times too good.
______
He knocks on the door over an hour and a half later with an apologetic look on his face, bringing us a Chinese takeout and some ice cream to share after. Though something told me, those were just for me. I think he liked to spoil me with food, wanting to make up for some of my pains and struggles. A little smile lingers on my lips, but I don’t voice out my thoughts to him, and just put out everything on the coffee table next to the sofa.
After dinner, we somehow land in the kitchen together, washing and drying dishes in silence that feels surprisingly comfortable. I try not to think about how homey it all seems. It’s another box I don’t want to open. Yet the notions still bounce in my head as I get lost in thought, hands automatically scrubbing and washing one thing after another, working on autopilot. It’s then when his voice breaks the simple motions.
Eleonore Emily Walton.
A wet plate slips on out my hands and lands on the floor, crashing into big chunks of grey pottery, covering the space around my feet with soupy water. There is a moment of silence as I slowly turn around and see his surprised expression that probably reflects mine perfectly. He snaps out of it faster than me and comes over, the test results left on the countertop. I don’t even move to get it, as he picks up the fragments of the broken plate, quickly taking care of the mess, and throwing all the remains into the garbage bin. I watch as he comes over and dries my hands without being asked - his moves quick but gentle - and then doing the same with his own hands. He doesn’t say anything, just gets back to his new discovery, frowning at it. It’s the troubled look on his face that breaks my strange state.
You really shouldn’t be looking through other people’s garbage, Charlie.
My voice comes out in a weak tone as I try to sound stronger than I feel, in control of the situation. I threw the damn thing out, and he found it anyway. Of course, he did.
Nora?
He asks slowly, and I cross my arms, not wanting to show any more signs of weakness.
What?
My whole body language turns defensive, after hearing my full name come out from those lips.
Your birthday was last week.
And Halloween is in two days, I plan on ignoring that too. Are you making a point here?
I ask, annoyed, snatching the crumpled piece of paper from him and putting it close to my stomach, suddenly feeling very bare and fragile. I gaze at him and notice his confused expression.
I didn’t’ know.
Of course, not, because I didn’t tell you.
My voice sounds sterner than I would have liked it too. I hated feeling exposed to the things I tried to keep only to myself. He blinks at me.
Hmm, October 24th.
A low sigh escapes my throat.
Charlie, I’m just not a big fan of birthdays. That’s all. Especially not lately.
You fainted on that day.
What... did you just say?
Trust me. I will never forget that day. It’s stitched permanently to my brain by now.
I almost sense a cable snap somewhere in my brain. Well, what’s the harm in one more breaking, I think. There is probably a whole pile of bad wires scattered all over my head. Yet, a part of me still fights what he’s saying.
It wasn’t, I mean... no, that can’t be.
I say weakly, but to be honest, I’m no longer sure of anything. My days all turning into a lot of blurred lines and strained sleepless nights. I was lucky if I still knew what day of the week it was. There was only one date in the calendar that mattered to me right now, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be a date that would damage me even more. One always has hope, even in the darkest of times, even when it’s beyond foolish to still have it.
And yet it is.
I don’t remember a lot from that day, alright?!
My voice suddenly raises as I snap at him, once again feeling cornered. It wasn’t easy, dealing with a deeply rooted denial that I developed into a very impressive format while trying to seem like a semi-normal person. Though let’s face it, that ship sailed a long time ago anyway.
He stares at me for a moment, then just nods.
I understand and will drop it for now. But can I at least ask you out?
It’s my turn to blink, as my brain fails to understand the punch line of this tense little scene. He stares at me, amused.
Well? Would miss boa feathers like to go out and have some free food as a late birthday gift?
I make a face at him, as the message finally breaks through.
Free food. Oh, how you know the way to a girl’s heart.
My voice drips of sarcasm, but he ignores it, lips stretching into an even bigger smile.
Yes, I am pretty smart that way, miss Walton.
Charlie.
The sarcasm turns into sharp frosted honey that melts slowly, only so it can escape my mouth.
If you want to live another day, refer yourself from using my full name. It’s a kind warning. Do take it into consideration... please.
He looks at me, not fazed in any way by my words.
I shall do no such a thing, dear little Jane.
My stare turns perplexed as I gasp without actually making any sound, mouth opening wider.
You heard me. I will keep on using it. But since I’m so polite, I won’t use it all the time, just on special occasions. Deal?
He looks at me sweetly, and I groan loudly, letting out all of my frustrations and insecurities flow in the air around us - and then I just sigh.
Fine, be that way. I will survive.
I send him a long look.
But only because I will get free food out of this.
That was my plan all along.
He grins, and a wet dishcloth hits his face with a satisfying sound. I watch as he grabs it, face frowning in disgust at first, but then he just shrugs his shoulders.
Still worth it.
Another small sigh leaves my throat.
I just can’t win with you, can I now, Charlie?
You know what they say. If you can’t beat them, join them.
My eyebrow lifts, and I smile a bit at him, slowly giving in.
That better be a three-course meal you are offering.
I will see what my credit card can do.
While he looks away, putting the dishcloth on a small heater by the window, I shove the piece of paper in the back pocket of my jeans, planning to throw it away somewhere outside - preferably in another state. How did he always manage to find things about me, even when I guarded them so well before? With arms crossed tightly, I look outside the window. Maybe on some level, I did want him to find out and see if he would stay afterward. If he still thought I was worth saving or just a wasted chapter in his life, a life that actually mattered something. My hand slowly slips the paper out of my pocket, tearing it apart to little pieces, and throwing it back into the bin. No point in keeping it, or getting rid of it five blocks away, he already saw it. Besides, behaving like an overreacting, spoiled child never got me too far anyway. He gazes at me cautiously, and I just shrug. The cat was out of the bag. I will just have to endure it.
It’s just a last name. What does this bother you so much?
His voice is very calm, yet curiosity seems to sip out of his pores.
It carries a lot of dead weight.
He gazes at me slowly, and I know he wants to add something but stops himself, probably sensing my changing mood. He lifts his hand as if in a question, gazing at my wrist, and I freeze, remembering. "I like when you do that... it always calms me down, like nothing else in this world." I feel nausea taking over. The past and present once again mixing and messing with my mind. He sees my reaction and comes over, I wave my head, letting him know it’s all alright. He doesn’t say anything but lets his fingers wrap around my skin, bringing relief to my rushed thoughts. I smile at him, but there is fear somewhere moving in my veins because I can’t shake off the feeling of how familiar all of this felt.
_____
https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses
(chapter 1 )
Previous 3 chapters :
26. https://theprose.com/post/335596/finding-steady-footing