stretching out the horizon
perspective / noun
a particular attitude towards
or way of regarding something; a point of view
I sit on my bed, hands absentmindedly stroking the covers as I stare out the little window in my bedroom, watching the bright light of a too-cold day slipping in. The nearly naked trees swaying in the wind, branches moving and painting shadows on the crumpled grey sheets. Slowly, I inhale and look around the room, thinking that I don't really recognize my surroundings today. It's so quiet, so soundless, so vacant somehow. I can't even hear my lungs taste the air around me, sensing the motions of my body but feeling lost in time. Minutes and hours passing gently, but everything feeling surreal as if I was stuck in some unknown moment and had no clue how to move forward, not even being sure if I wanted to. The past weeks, months, the entire year; felt so uncontrolled, unstable, harsh. And they still do, but strangely after where I have been things seemed to shift slightly, even if it was hard to exactly pinpoint the transition that was going on. Insanity, as always remained a bigger part of my life, but this morning felt different.
I can't fully grasp it but I take it in gradually, my time being counted in slower heartbeats and some form of stillness.
It's because you did the unthinkable that day, you said goodbye.
My body shivers slightly and I wrap arms around myself, hands rubbing out the sudden chill. It wasn't a definite goodbye, but it was a step in the right direction, swimming somewhere between holding on and letting go. But still, something in her felt lighter, somewhere underneath all the bruises and scars, her heart beating in a slower, less pained way. It still hurt like crazy though. A tiny voice in me whimpers but I hush it, murmuring soft sounds as if soothing it to the best of my capabilities. It's okay, at least he has found some peace from his chaotic mind, his soul breathing without all the cages that he trapped himself in over the years. Dan had a beautiful heart and was so tender, but not many people saw it under the rough exterior, under all the turbulence and mayhem that took him under after each dark night and harsh day that changed him into the version of a man that he had become. He was very lost, but so was I. Maybe that's why we found the way to each other, clinging to our broken parts and welding them with our untamed love.
We were two storms molded from broken pieces and fires that always blazed, often causing destruction on their paths, leaving ruins and dust behind.
I lift my stare and look outside the window again, watching birds dive into the air and float above the heavy currents of the wind; fighting, and keeping their heads high, so strong despite the hardship of life. My gaze follows them and I feel my eyes start to sting, something in me falling and crumbling, sadness and longing weighing on the lungs, filling my chest with so many things. We left ruins behind, me and him, that's true, but when I was with him, my damaged parts would somehow become beautiful and softer, he was a home that glued all the things that to everyone appeared ugly. And for him, I did the same, I brought him calm, a breath of air, a reason to stop when self-destruction kept luring him in a way that he could never resist. It was too strong for the man whose soul always remained ignited. And that eventually, burned him down to ash. Gun powder, being the last thing that he ever cradled in his chest.
I always hoped that on that day, he inhaled the sun as well, blazing to its soft heat before everything became still.
My lungs fill with more air and I tilt my head slightly, letting a streak of light catch my eyes, a small tear escaping without permission, and falling on the covers as I concentrate on the good, putting the bad aside for now. Mmm, those fires of his, they never did hurt me. They soothed the ones that colored my own veins and muscles that always itched for something, always telling me to move and never stay in one place. A wanderer for life. I think and question myself if a runner would be a much better word for me. Constantly running away from something unnamed.
Suddenly the room becomes darker, clouds thickening and gradually bringing me back to the present. Shaking out of the moment, I pick up my cellphone from the nightstand and choose a familiar name, listening to a long list of rings before someone picks up, and when they do; speaking before anything can be said.
Hey, boss. You still want me after I bailed on you, like the little sod that I am?
Ah, Elle. Always the quintessence of elegance and finesse.
You couldn't have said it better.
There's a moment of silence before I let myself speak again, taking a deeper breath.
So, you still have a preference for the worse employee of the month package? Because I've got a great reference from the unemployment office, and "ToysRUs" only for grownups division, a very flexible company, may I add.
Elle.
His tone changes, and it isn't cheerful or irritated, it's much worse. It's sympathetic. I feel something in me once again sink slightly.
Phil, don't.
It's okay, kiddo. I understand.
I sigh and rub my face.
Sometimes I forget you know.
And I'm here if you need me.
Mmm, this is one of the reasons I stopped drinking, I spill more information than alcohol in such a lovely obliterated state. Actually, I never spill alcohol, but that's a conversation for a different day, I guess.
How are you feeling?
His voice is gentle, and that somehow puts more weight to my chest.
I'm alive and breathing. That's enough, I've got low standards as you know. After all, I work for you, right?
I say, trying to lighten the mood, yet the strain in my voice gives me away. I hear him sigh as he goes over the little charade, being used to my strange ways.
Are you sure you're up for a shift? Maybe rest a bit instead, your job will still be there tomorrow.
Boss, come on. Don't go all soft on me, you know neither one of us knows how to handle feelings. Gambling money on the wrong teams and lousy life choices, that's our sweet spot.
He laughs out and shifts a bit, sounding like he's making himself more comfortable, whatever he was doing at that moment. Mmm, I think I might have heard a rustle of a newspaper but can't be 100% sure.
Alright, I won't ask again. Come on over later and be ready for a little overtime. Katy will be glad for some help in the kitchen, and Tracy... well, she will have someone else to torture with her constant flow of insightful thoughts.
He stretches out the word insightful and I purse my lips, trying to keep a straight face.
Hey, as long as it fills the emptiness of my wallet, everything else fades away to oblivion.
Was expecting such an answer.
It's because you get me, boss. You always had.
Stop sucking up, I got other meddlers to take care of. Much worse than the dodgy likes of you.
Oh, how deep the blade of your sword pierces my heart... How sharp the cut, that comes from betrayal.
I hear him snort loudly into the receiver and slap on something hard in front of him; probably the counter of the bar.
Bye, Elle. And I recommend you try out for an audition for "Cats". I hear they lowered their standards over the years.
Perfect, I will feel right at home then.
With a bit of a lighter mood, I hang up and smile to myself. There were always bright places to turn to in life, even for me. Phil was definitely one of those corners in the world that brought some light into my dark existence. I inhale deeper and then shift on the bed to open a drawer from the nightstand, going through a cluttered stack of papers until I find what I want, safely hidden in an old worn-out notebook that no one would even give a second glance. Gently, I slip out a small rectangular of thick, once glossy paper from it and gaze at a beautiful pair of brown eyes, rubbing my thumb against the corner of the photograph. Here you are, I've missed that smile. I miss it every day. My gaze reluctantly lifts to the murky sky and I let the air fill my lungs completely. But life moves on, right? Nothing can stop that. I think and slip the photo into the back pocket of my jeans, and gather my stuff before going out.
It moves for all of us.
I say calmly and bundle myself in extra layers of clothes, wrapping a long woolen scarf around my neck, anticipating the weather that awaits me, the cold seeming to slip through the windows and walls of the flat, only so it can eagerly reach my bones and settle in as if the most welcomed guest and not an unwanted host. Shivering a bit, I close the door behind me and quickly rush down the stairs, for the first time in a long time just being in the moment and not getting lost in my permanent companion constructed of all that eventually always would become pained and hollow.
_____
Some time later.
With a shy smile, I slowly sit on the plastic chair next to her bed and gaze at the fragile form tucked under the covers. She's staring absently at the made bed next to her but shifts when hearing me move around. My smile spreads a bit more and I put my hand over hers, it's soft but it feels colder than it should. I try not to frown with worry and rub my thumb against the surface of the skin.
Alright, tell me. You're keeping them extra cold so I will break and buy you a pair of some fancy leather glows, aren't you?
The corners of her lips lift slightly as she gives me a parenting look and I take it as a little win.
Well, don't hold your breath, with my earnings all you can expect is a pair of mittens from a gift shop downstairs, and not even the good one on the first floor but the one for the riff-raffs like me near the bathrooms.
Don't think so highly of yourself, child. We all know you would make the other little old bags here like me, knit them for you for free.
I lift my eyebrows from the sudden attitude, that makes my sarcastic blood tickle with joy. Though a bigger part of me is just surprised to actually hear her as she usually speaks only when it's absolutely necessary. As if hating the thought of wasting precious energy on something as foolish as words and on people she had no patience anymore. A few rare exceptions were the doctors and nurses. Plus her daughter at times when the caring became a too deep shade of smothering with kindness, then she would snap and utter a simple but dry sentence that would even leave the pope in utter silence.
For you, I would actually buy them.
I say softly which makes her eyebrow lift in return as well.
Just so I would shut you up with it.
My smile turns sugary and she shakes her head at me, not adding anything else to the conversation. Not that I minded much, the day already feeling like a humble success. I watch her as her attention seems to fade away from me, gaze lowering and shifting to the side. Pain and loss could only be distracted for so long at a time. I think and touch her hand again.
I brought something.
She slightly lifts her eyes at me and I nod.
Something small but important.
My other hand moves behind as I shift and reach for my back pocket, slipping out the photo and gently putting it into her hand. Her stare is at first unfocused but then becomes clearer and sharper as with time her eyes turn softer as if she already knows.
I lost someone too.
It's rather obvious that words are not really needed right now but somehow I have a need to say them as if even that was a part of the grief; an acceptance of sorts, and the necessary process of sharing your pain with someone else. And in this case, with someone that understood all too well, and has felt each strain cord in their heart in the same way that you did. Well, not in the exact same way as each sorrow and ache was different, but the core of it so similar. Loss.
I could tell, child. I could tell, from the moment I first laid my eyes on you.
My chest lifts as I fill it with more air, something in me softening. To feel a soul that could embrace your pain as their own can be the biggest treasure when we are in despair, so low on our knees. I take the picture from her delicately and look at it one more time before I put it away for a long time, but just as I'm close to doing so, something makes me look up and gaze at the picture in the frame of a man with such similar brown eyes as the one that I'm holding in my hand.
How strangely do some paths collide, don't they?
My eyes catch Clair's as she asks, and I agree slowly. Yes, some paths collide in the strangest ways, the meaning of it leaving you in awe and with the taste of things that you could never really explain completely.
I'm not sure if I can ever let him go.
My voice is barely a whisper as I gaze down at my hands.
Do you think that's a bad thing, and I should just move on?
I continue and then feel her surprisingly firm fingers stroke and touch my cheek, making me look up.
I'm not sure if you are asking the right person for such things but...
Her tone is calm but caring, eyes speaking in ways that nothing else could ever express.
But no. You should not just move on. You should take your time until that ache in your chest doesn't subside to a point where breathing does no longer requires help from every part of your body.
She lets go of my cheek and puts both of her hands together, massaging and rubbing out the stiff muscles that came with age and with the cold that would always linger there. A feeling that I understood all too well.
But Eleonore, child.
She takes a deeper breath.
Don't take too long, or it will wear you out like me until there is nothing much left. And I don't want that for you.
I swallow and nod again, not being able to say anything, fearing that my voice might shake and quiver too much, and I didn't want to seem weak, even to myself. Even though I knew it was perfectly alright to let it out and break in front of those who cared about us and would not judge. And I knew she never would.
I will try... to live my life better, Clair.
She smiles and points to the book. I smile back and take it, opening at the marked spot but then add.
As long as you will join me, as I'm trying to figure it all out.
She tilts her head to the side and catches me in her piercing stare that seems to grab things that normally no one has access to, but I don't stop her or look away, feeling that it's needed and worth it. We stay in this moment for a while until she lets the corners of her lips lift, agreeing and giving me a simple answer.
Yes.
Then she furrows her eyebrows, gazing impatiently at the book, rushing me to begin. So bossy. My head shakes as I smile to myself and gaze at the part I left off the last time, voice caring in a steady rhythm as the thoughts drift off and somehow I find myself thinking about Charlie and all that I have put him through so far. Am I just an unnecessary weight to him, that pulls him down? Distracting him from moving forward, while he could have done so many other things with his time? I wasn't too long in his life but those kinds of questions have been moving through my thoughts lately. Was I being selfish for wanting to keep him around for a little bit longer? For needing him to soothe my hectic mind, and the pain that always lingered in my bones? Did I give back what he...
There you are, I have been looking everywhere for you since the local gossip line reported spotting of alien life in a pretty familiar form.
I jump slightly in my seat, nearly dropping the book, and from the corner of my eye noticing Clair's slightly amused expression. Good, at least someone was feeling entertained by the situation. Mmm, of all the times he could have shown up, he chose the exact moment when my mind was solely filled with him. Well, him, and some good old-fashioned Austin deceit, manipulation, and hasty judgments. And on the side note; with way too many short puffy sleeves and silk stockings for my taste.
Well, you found me, stranger. Shall I fight for my life, or just give in to your charms? That is if you can offer me a last meal, of course. Hey, I might be easy but I still have some pride left.
Oh, do you now?
He looks amused at me and unexpectedly a realization hits me as I gaze at his warm smile. I actually missed him. I got attached. The sound of bricks hitting the pavement and turning into dust fills my brain and causes me to blink a lot as if I am in the middle of a very complicated equation. I must be silent for a while because eventually, his stare turns
a bit concerned.
You alright there? Because you look a little pale.
Uhm, me? No. I mean, yes. I'm alright, alright as any owner of a deluxe straitjacket can be.
He sighs and moves his head slightly.
Come on, you're coming with me.
Where?
I ask while being in the process of recovering the little brain tissue that I still had left.
I'm taking you for lunch. I can tell when you're hungry. It's whenever your insanity jumps up a few notches up and there is no dictionary in the world left to translate you, Miss Walton.
The mention of my last name finally gets me in order, annoyance kicking in, cutting off all the thoughts from before.
It's madam Moulin Rouge, to you, boy. Now provide me some semi-nutritious substance, or I will throw you under the next convenient bus coming your way.
I stand up and walk out with a deep shade of attitude while I hear behind me.
Do it, son. Feed her, or your relationship will end up in civil court.
I smile despite everything and turn around, sending Clair a long stare, arms crossing automatically.
If he knows what's good for him, he will always keep me satisfied, at least at a minimum level.
Won't you, darling?
I gaze at Charlie while keeping a completely straight face.
Yes, dear. Just don't kick me out, my other female friends won't find any place to go in Winter.
My eyebrows slowly reach the ceiling. Well, well, someone has been training, I see. Perfect, I enjoyed a good challenge. A smile stretches my lips as I mentally roll up my sleeves.
As long you treat me right, I will see what I can do. But I promise nothing.
Of course. And trust me, I will always treat you right.
My eyes follow his as I sense a delicate change in his tone, but brush it off, not sure if I wanted to dive farther into it.
Work on that raise we talked about and a new Visa card, and we will get along just fine.
He nods with a smile and passes me in the doorway, brushing against my arm and causing me to cross them tighter, my mind trying to analyze what just happened. Did something happen? Mmm, my oblivious, denial-dripping side wasn't too sure.
He's good for you, you know? Keep him close by.
Slowly, I gaze back at her and allow myself a little smile.
I will do my best, as long as he wants me around.
I walk out into the hallway and follow behind him, once again trying to find that one place in my head where it's peaceful and calm while a low buzzing starts to move under the skull, just a beginning but it's there again. I sigh and then notice him turning around, giving me a soft distracted smile, and somehow, I manage to find a more stable footing, whispers subsiding a bit. Mmm, just staying in the moment, inhaling the delicate warmth that came from his presence and breathing out the chaos that always seemed to seep into my bloodstream. My remedy.
_____
https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses ( the beginning )
Previous chapters :
35. https://theprose.com/post/400741/dislocated-parts
36. https://theprose.com/post/404686/between-holding-on-and-letting-go