Most days

Some days the world is cold and gray. I find myself repeating the same tepid sentences over and over again until I swear the world is being drowned by my silent screaming.

Some days are like a Crayola box, half a stick of Burnt Sinew crammed next to Violet and Red Orange. Everything swims by in technicolor and if you squint the blues become orange and the reds green.

People look into this fishbowl I'm living inside, and they see the grays and the colors all floating around together. The lines between them are fluid and things seem zany and fresh. Not true. The world is either too harsh or too dim, no balance to be found, no compromise to be made.

My existence is a contradiction. In one life I have someone, a careful cardboard cutout of just what they should be. Comfort, but nothing more. I suppose I expected more then primary colors, more then cardboard. In the other life I have no one but myself. But this is to be expected, this is what I am used to. It's more dramatic in it's own way, more perfectly tragic. One way I have colorful comfort, the other beautiful tragic solitude.

And then some days I think I see a glimmer of a third world. A place with GOLD and LIGHTNING and PIZAZZ. It's such a beautiful shimmering mirage, a gossamer dream that I can only just see out of the corner of my eye.

And I'm sorry, so sorry, but I know not so deep down that if I don't run to that place, find out if it's fools gold or real, I'll never really be happy. Because you see, to be comfortable-that is my greatest fear.

It's tragedy or a dream life for me I'm afraid.

Play ball

Arguments over a small white ball tossed through the air; men conveniently lacking shirts tell each other that they are worthless pieces of shit in the most loving way possible. Someone has made an artistic statement on the beach, propping scattered rocks on their ends-I am NATURAL the statement screams, I am ART. I do not appreciate it.

All the benches are full, I perch myself on the end of MY bench, the other end is currently occupied by a woman with leathery skin. She clutches a cell phone and repeats the same lines into it over and over again. "Hello, this is Lupe, it's Sunday and I don't know if you're working or what..." She leaves after her fifth call, and her place is soon occupied by a boy of nine or ten. I am suddenly very aware of my jean skirt and low slung tank top.

It could easily be four months ago, really. If I close my eyes all I hear are the smacks of the whiffle ball and the buzz of idle chatter-could be gossip about spring semester and house parties and dirty deeds. But I know these people are simple by default: they are on vacation and the only vocabulary at their disposal contains words such as "quaint" and "scenic" and "overpriced." Such simple things should be comforting after the way I longed for them for months. I should take pleasure in the white sails tacking back and fourth, the warm breeze, the pitter pat of gravel under jogger's feet.

But this is not what I came here for. I want to explode, to scream and cry and dance all at once. I want to know what I had that he took from me, because every time I come to this bench I have lost something more. Last time I was here it was raining and I thought I had lost it all. Silly girl to be so sure of anything.

Someday perhaps he will gather all of my hints together and find his way here-read these sentiments and laugh laugh laugh at the power he had and how I believe everything whole-heartedly. And then he will be the one to grunt "silly girl" between chuckles, "silly naive girl, so easily manipulated." So yes, you got exactly what you wanted I suppose, and I allowed it to happen under the guise that it was what I wanted too. And now I forget and try to go on, and I succeed, mostly. And then, life makes sense for a good three or four days. I can forget the smell and the color blue and the wonderful safety that I had for two maybe three weeks. And you seem to know that I'm happy, because these are the moments you pick to ambush me.

"The fact that I'm still talking to you must mean something" you say, drunken gaze fixed on my too sober eyes. "I need to move on. We had something, I don't know what it was but it was there and it's gone now."

Silly girl, to let words like this bring her whole world crashing down around her. Silly, silly girl.

Liberal Arts Education

The wind whistled past the automobile as it rushed on through the heavy mist. It's passenger was dressed in light summer frock, as the car speed forward the girl's sash whipped up to dance in her face. Terror was in her eyes and the hands that clutched at the steering wheel, willing herself on, pushing the limits of sixty miles per hour. Not two minutes behind her another engine purred, a feline stalking prey.
The girl's dancing shoes slipped off the gas momentarily, the fast deceleration almost caused the car to stall. Sharp turn, a branch across the dirt road almost sent her spinning into the trees. Righting herself, she peered forwards towards her destination. Slamming the brake the car skidded forward and jerked to a halt. A lookout, on a clear night you could see over the whole sleepy town and university beyond- with majestic mountains to either side and a sheer drop to the valley below. The coeds had nicknamed this spot "lover's lane," but tonight it was eerie, draped in a rolling fog.
Slamming her door she ran, and seconds later heard her pursuer cut his engine and pant after her. A rock in her path twisted her ankle the wrong way; she slammed to the ground and lay there, head spinning in pain. She had to go on, couldn't stop now. Dragging herself up, half limping half running forward; she was on grass now, muffling the sounds of her steps instead of echoing them. Just a few more yards...and a hand caught at her dress. The silk ripped and she almost broke free, but another hand was grasping her arm. Biting and kicking she tried to break away, but her leg wouldn't support her weight on it's own. A swift kick upward yielded results as it connected with something soft and fleshy, a grunt and she was scrambling forward again. A few sure steps and then her left foot landed in air. With a small gasp she looked back as she plunged down through the night-down, down, down into the valley below.
*****
The stuck key jangled uselessly in the door, refusing to turn to either lock or unlock the storage room. An exasperated sigh and Anna was forced to put down the box she was balancing in her free arm. With both hands she manhandled the key until it reluctantly clicked into place and the door swung open. The room that greeted her always gave her the creeps. Peeling mismatched wall paper that dated from the turn of the century through the fifties, cracks on the wall and exposed pipes in the ceiling. This one room was frozen in time in a building that could boast all the modern necessities; it was the only room not to be wired for cable and wifi. Short makeshift partitions divided it into fourths, all with huge padlocks lest anyone felt curious about other organizations carefully guarded secrets. Not that they would find much, other then an old pinata, stacks of glass coke bottles, and an assortment of old scrapbooks. Anna grunted in disgust as she surveyed the mess. The box of modern composites and photos wouldn't fit anywhere without a struggle. "Why the fuck did I think joining a sorority was a good fucking idea?" she grumbled, not for the first time that day. Sullenly she played tetris with boxes for a while, before growing thoroughly peeved and slamming down a crate of old song books. "WHAT THE HELL IS THE PROBLEM WITH GREEK LIFE AND ORGANIZATION??!" In disgust she swung her foot at the wall, but instead of the satisfying thud she was expecting the wall swung in with her foot. "Great job Anna. Just wreck the fucking building why don't you?" Nursing both her pride and her foot she sat down to see how best she could hide her destruction. As she peered closer she discovered to her astonishment, not a hole in the plaster, but rather a small hinge cleverly disguised by the peeling wall paper. The tiny cubby it revealed had things scribbled on it in pen and pencil, too faded to make out. She let a finger trace the outline of a scrawl that looked like Greek letters, and to her further astonishment her fingertip brushed paper. Anna pulled it out and found herself examining a clip from the Campus Herald, published in 1936. It was yellow but in otherwise good condition, the room was dry and apparently free of mice. The headline of the clip read "Campus Queen Killed in Tragic Accident."

Thursday, May 16-
The campus community was grieved today to hear the news that Grace Turner's body has indeed been found. The search, which commenced late Tuesday night when she failed to return by curfew after a fraternity dance, was ended when Turner was discovered near the popular parking spot known to some as "Lover's Lane." She had apparently mis-stepped in the fog and gone over the edge of the cliff that the overlook sits atop. Her car has yet to be found, anyone who sees a black and red convertible ford is asked to report it immediately to the local authorities.
Turner was very active in campus life and will be missed by many. Though only a sophomore, she was recently named May Queen, and was the vice president of the Literary Society, as well as an active member in the Alpha Gamma Theta sorority. Services will be held in her memory this Sunday at the chapel, money is being collected for a scholarship in her name.

Anna shivered involuntarily. The Turner Scholarship, a prestigious award given to one incoming freshman interested in studying English or Journalism. She had been the recipient for her class. "This is crazy..." She let her words trail off as her fingers traced the photo that accompanied the article. Turner, after just being crowned Queen on May Day. She was in a white dress and surrounded by her court, framed by a fountain that must have been lost in the campus "Modernizations." She was a striking girl, with a chiseled face and dark hair. Turning the scrap of paper over in her hands Anna saw that someone had made an addendum to the back. "Gracie, you will be missed. Tony Parson deserves death for what he did to you. Gamma Theta love forever." The black sentiment was scrawled in perfect cursive, for some reason this made Anna shiver more then the article had. Suddenly she was struck by the urge to leave as fast as possible. Stuffing the article back into it's hiding place of more then seventy years, she scrambled to make her way out of the mess that she had inadvertently made worse. Only once she was safely out of the Alpha Gamma Theta storage room did she realize that her heart was racing at twice it's normal speed.

To be continued...

Corrupted Naiveté

Meridith was looking for anything to do but think. The world was wrong, everything wrong right now. She was supposed to be with Rhett, things were supposed to work out, this was supposed to be their summer to remember. And here she was stuck folding t-shirts and listening to whiny pre-pubescent gossip. Her old white computer stared innocently up at her, out of sheer boredom she clicked the folder marked "documents." Emily 2.3 greeted her, a mini time warp disguised as a harmless word document.

The crisp night air was cut with sounds of laughter and indiscernible shouts. Groups of people in bright costumes walked about the dark campus paths; pirates, soldiers, fairies and princesses. It was a flashback to the student’s youth, with the added benefits of frat parties and liquor. One especially large group moved slowly, it’s members talking and laughing among themselves.
“Peter, you’re insane!” A girl dresses as a nineteenth century showgirl exclaimed, as the boy in question did a flip over a low brick wall. Another girl dressed as a cat ran up to him and whispered in his ear. Meredith felt her stomach sink inside its tight corset. She glanced at Chris across the group of people. Peter and Chloe had paired up at the same time as Meredith and Chris. Unfortunately, Meredith had panicked and unknowingly broken Chris’s heart. He had never come out and said it; but she knew that the gradual end to things that she had put him through had hurt. And now she was lonely. Oh well, she didn’t get to be lonely.
“Christine!” Meredith ran to catch up with the girl dressed as a puppy. Have you met my friend Belle yet? Belle was dressed as a waitress. A very edgy waitress that is.
“No, hey!”
“Christine’s from New Hampshire, she’s my dancing buddy!” Belle nodded at the girl who had a very Meredith air about her. She held herself with a grace that Meredith had never seemed to achieve.
The night air closed in about the group as they strode quickly forward. Meredith tried to avoid the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach that she still had when she knew she was going to be indulging in illegal activities. But the wish to have fun and fit in her new surroundings overwhelmed this vague discomfort, and so she walked on, clutching her half empty water bottle. For now it was really water, but later…Belle broke into her thoughts abruptly.
“Oh babe. I missed you SO much! You really need to meet Luke you know!” Meredith smiled in spite of herself. Even through her bad girl gone good exterior she could see that Belle hadn’t really changed. She was still the same girl that had laughed and giggled over wine into the wee ours of the morning with her. It's just that now she knew her worth; she was finally ready to step forward and get what she deserved. And good for her. But tonight was all about old friends, new acquaintances, and having a good time. So as they entered the Orange House Meredith downed the last of the water and flung the bottle into the street. Let someone else deal with her messes tonight.

The music was drowned out by the shouts of people in varying states of drunkenness. People stood in clumps, or leaned against walls watching the pong tourney well underway.
“What?” Meridith had to shout to make herself heard over the cackle of girl in a silky black shirt who was losing the game spectacularly. One of the Frat boys stood on hand, ready to take care of her should she get sick. That was the thing about the Orange House, the Gammas always took care of you. Meridith had yet to hear of a Creeper Gamma experience, which was more then she could say for any of the other Frats on campus.
“I said do you want any jello shots. I can get some for you and your friend…”
“Oh, Nathan you’re the best! This is Belle by the way, Belle, Nathan.” Belle’s “Nice to meet you” was lost in the hubbub, but they shook hands. Someone elbowed their way past and Meridith had to jump out of the way to avoid the beer that sloshed from a nearly full cup. Nathan put his hand on her arm to steady her, and left it there for a split second longer then was necessary. She took this as typical Nathan after a couple beers, refusing to chalk it up to the fact that he did, as he had drunkenly confessed to her one night, have a slight crush one her.
“What color do you want?” She looked him in the eye to convey the full meaning of her question.
“What color would you SUGGEST Nathan?” He glanced to see if any Gammas were in the near vicinity before answering in as low a voice as the packed room permitted.
“Stay away from red and yellow. Green should be fine, but let me get them for you, OK?”
Sure, thanks, you’re the best!” As he sidled off to a back room Meridith and Belle looked around for the others. They spotted them across the room; Christine waved and smiled pointedly towards Chloe who was slipping and only remained balanced with substantial support from Peter. Chloe saw her look and sidled towards her through the crowd.
“Babyyyyy! I love you! Here, take this!” Meridith tried to refuse the offered beer, she had already had one and two cups of jungle juice, and her little frame made her the definition of a light weight. But Chloe persisted.
“Take it! If I’m holding it I’m going to drink it, and guess what?” She leaned forward into Meridith face as if to breath a secrete.
“I’m drunk!” She shouted, as if it was a gossip worthy revelation. Meridith took the offered cup and turned to Belle as Peter crossed the room and escorted Chloe away.
“Belle, how many have you had?” Belle looked sideways at her and suppressed a giggle.
“Four beers I think. And some Jungle juice.” Meridith sighed in pretended annoyance.
“Fine, I guess we can split this…” She sipped quickly, trying to finish her half before the wall of people caused her to spill it. Just as Belle was finishing it off Nathan came towards them, four Jello shots in his hands.
“Here you go ladies! Enjoy! There are two more on that back table, just ask Mike and tell him I told you to get them.”
“You rock Nathan! Thanks! You sure I can handle this, right? I mean, I know you’re goal in life is to get me trashed…”
“You’ll be fine. I made sure to get the one’s that were more watered down.”
“Well, don’t you have a drunk sorority girl somewhere that needs to be escorted home? I’m sure you can find one!” Nathan pretend to punch Meridith and then was lost again in the crowd.
By the time Belle and Meridith had finished their first two Jello shots and were heading for Mike at the bar people had started to leave. Christine tapped Meridith on the shoulder.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Peter’s taking Chloe home.” Christine indicated the girl who was currently looking slightly off balance and queasy.
“The rest of us are heading to the Zeta Nu dance party, wanna come?”
“Sure! Just let me grab these for the road!” Christine looked doubtfully at the wiggling green mass, but nodded and followed them to the door.

The night which had started out as seasonally fall had turned cold. Meridith shivered and pulled the wrappings of her slightly skimpy outfit closer. She wished that she had worn something more then the corset to protect her arms from freezing. The world was tilting a little, but she chalked it up to the speed with which she had consumed that jungle juice. Usually this passed for her, and she would soon be only slightly tipsy and maybe just a little on the side of drunk. She wasn’t hammered though. Not too drunk to go to Zeta Nu.
Belle behind her seemed a little worse off, but they linked arms to steady each other and walked in an almost straight line. As cars passed their group they saw their breath illuminated in the headlights. Zeta Nu’s house loomed before them, a brick abomination made decidedly in the 70’s.
They walked through the back door into the pool room where couples were sitting on the benches strewn with empty cans. The ceilings were all too low for anyone over 5’6 to stand comfortably.
“Look, they made this house Belle sized!” Meridith exclaimed as Belle walked under and through to the dance floor beyond.
The music thumped through the walls and the floor, pulsating in Meridith’s body. The “Zeta Nu Smell,” one of mixed cigarettes, sweat and beer permeated the room, making Belle cough at first before growing used to it.
The group moved to the center of the floor, surrounded by gyrating couples on every side; sprinkled with a few tough guys with oversized baseball hats that insisted on jumping up and down repeatedly.
They danced, moving and swaying their hips to the never ending pounding. Meridth got into a rhythm, sway sway dip dip roll, sway sway dip dip roll. Belle followed her lead and soon the two of them had a small audience as they danced holding tightly onto each other. When the techno was finally cut by a pop song Meridith leaned in to shout to Belle.
“Come on hon, I want to see if I glow in the black light!” Belle nodded and followed her to the one edge of the dance floor that was heavily packed. Meridith’s racerback was bright pink and they stood giggling until a familiar vamp cut the air.
“Awwww….. solja boy!...” The two of them immediately began jumping and snapping to the rhythm. Soon the whole house was doing the hip-hop choreography in unison, with Belle and Meridith in the middle of everything. As the Choreo ended and the free form began they found themselves surrounded by a group of Zeta Nu's. One with longish blond hair tied back in a pony tail sidled up next to Belle.
“I’m going to give this lady over here a little grind!” He exclaimed to the room at large, and soon the two were moving together. Meridth felt a hand on her waist and glancing back she saw that one of the blond’s friends was holding on to her. The room was spinning, and all the only way she could keep from losing control was to keep on dancing, just keep on dancing….
The boys seemed to be getting closer and closer, Meridith thought she was moving but she couldn’t tell. The only thing she knew was that the person that she was dancing with was supporting her weight. She kept moving, but she was quickly losing control. The floor spun closer, she closed her eyes waiting for the impact. Hands caught her right before the crash and she felt herself lifted into the air. A part of her wondered where Belle was, but the thought was lost in the confusion of movement. She forced her eyes open and looked up at the person carrying her. She wanted to tell him that she had a boyfriend. If he thought she did maybe he would put her down, send her back to Woods Hall.
“My boyfriend…” She could hear laughter around her.
“Don’t worry baby, you’re boyfriend won’t mind…” More laughter. Then it died away with the snap of a door.

Where was Belle? She was set down on something soft. Confusedly she tried to sit up, but firm hands pushed her back down. Opening her eyes again she tried to take in her surroundings. The others had left, she was alone with the man who had been dancing with her. He had straggly brown hair and was unshaven; he wore a t-shirt with something scrawled across the front.
“Where’s my friend?” Meridith managed to ask, trying to stop the merry-go-round that the room had somehow become.
“It doesn’t matter. I promise she'll be fine.” She tried to sit again, and managed to stay upright for seven seconds before she fell back.
“Shit, I’m totally fucked up. I should go home.” She looked around, trying to figure out what door to leave by. She was so busy concentrating on the room that she didn’t see him approach until his hands were on her shoulders. He brushed her hair and before she knew it his lips were pressing down on hers. She wanted to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t the type of girl that she was. She wasn’t going to do this, not here, not now, not with him. But her voice seemed to have stopped functioning, and all she could do was faintly push his arm away. He let her, but brought his hand to rest on her lower stomach; his fingers creeping downward. She wanted to hit, slap, spit, punch. But all she could do was sigh a faint “Stop it” with an exhaled breath. He ignored her and let his hands drift further, making her squirm away. A ringing filled her ears, she didn’t know whether it was real or imagined.
The door opened and banged against the wall.
“Oh, sorry!” A familiar voice.
“Gorden?” He swam into her vision.
“Oh, hey Meridith, sorry for...are you ok?” He was bending over her, a concerned expression on his face. She barley knew him; they had a history class together. She vaguely remembered that he was also in a frat.
“She’s fine.” The brown haired boy was clearly impatient. His hand was still on her thigh, a pressure keeping her from attempting to rise.
“Gorden, I need to go home, ok? I just need to go!” Somehow tears were coursing down her face. She felt bile rise in her throat, and before she could stop it she vomited all over the bed. The boy looked on in disgust. Gorden took her hand as she finished gagging.
“Kevin, what the hell were you thinking? She’s really sick man. I’m taking her home.”
“Dude, I can handle it! She’s fine, she asked me to bring her.” Gorden looked doubtfully at Meridith. It was all she could do to shake her head.
“I need to find Belle, where’s Belle?” The tears came again; Belle was gone and she had no idea how she was going to get home. Gorden took her hand.
“Meridith, I’m going to get you home. Then we can find this Belle, OK?” She nodded and once again she was in the air. The sound of the party died away with the closing of a door, and she was shivering. The cold filled her nose and made it sting. She felt bile rising, but could not hold back.
“Put me down!” She managed to choke. He had barely set her feet to the ground before she vomited spectacularly. She held his arm, heaving into the lawn. Finally there was nothing left, and she fell limp against Gorden.

He lifted her once more and she saw the brick exterior of Baldwin Hall a fumble as he fit his key into the lock, then she felt herself being carried up flights of stairs. She could hear herself quietly sobbing as he pushed her door open and set her down on the bed.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to be like this, I'm sorry..."
"Meridith stop." Gordon's face appeared over her own.
"I'm never going to let any guy to what he was trying to do to you tonight. Ever, OK? You just call me and I'm there. I promise." She nodded but the movement made her feel queasy again so she sank back into the pillow. When she opened her eyes it was light outside. There was a glass of water, Advil, and a bagel beside her and Gordon was asleep on her absent roommate's bed. Closing her eyes, she resolved to never again be that willfully stupid.

If only she knew...

What the moon saw

Translucent pillars of green stand near and watch as the snowflakes swirl around us in the cold winter air. The dark midnight sky, littered with stars, hangs over head barely lighting our way as we explore this forsaken town.

It's cold, very cold. I'm trying not to let him see how cold I really am in the hopes that I can prolong this evening. I'm upset about something, another betrayal or heartbreak or growing pain. He cares, it angers me slightly. Tonight I just want to feel unloved. We talk about nothing in the hopes that something will be said.

One of us are here reluctantly, the other by choice, neither of us happy. We walk for miles while hours seem like minutes chatting about anything and everything. Making our way north, we follow an all too familiar route. A right turn here, a sweeping left there, strolling as if we are being pulled along train tracks paying no mind to our destination. Soon we arrive at the fair grounds.

There are no stars here like at home, just a few straggling pinpoints in the endless blue. It never gets truly dark, even when we pass the water tower and leave all signs of civilization behind. For weeks I have thought about this spot, about how perfect it could all be. But for me dreams remain dreams, and reality is simply a nightmare I live. The ground is too soft, in my dreams I didn't slip from slush and ice. This then must be real.

Large and empty, we admire the evening view as more light shines down from the heavens upon us, thinking only of each other and how wonderful it is to be alone. Climbing up icy stairs and reaching the top of the grandstand, we embrace…and talk…and kiss…and in this moment my world stands still, yet spins wildly within my soul.

My hands are in his pockets, his jacket smells like old campfire and the barn I grew up in; the most comforting smell in the world. Here we are teetering on the top of the world, icy stairs disappear down into the darkness and only the chain link behind fence stands between me and romantic doom. Then my dream is real, and he is holding me close, and I am enthralled. Complete perfection, it lasts for precious seconds. And I am thinking again. He asks me what's the matter, and I try to answer, except that I don't know what's wrong. It's the first time I've been happy in months, this perhaps is the problem. I have forgotten how to be happy.

The man on moon peaks an eye out from beneath his cover and watches and smiles knowing this is perfect…this is meant to be. Finally, we leave. Upon arriving at your door we share one last embrace, one last kiss for the evening.

And then he leaves, like I knew he would. Recklessly we embrace on the front step-and now I know this is what I want. No more hiding, no more sneaking up and down stairs or across brick paths. Just this, simplicity and contentment. But I know better then to expect that for myself. Simplicity is for others, I am intrinsically complicated.

As I walk home I look to my friend above and without words he tells me everything I want to hear, and I couldn't be happier.

Oh god, make it all go away, just make it go away.

Must Love Dogs

Cold, and dark, and I'm hurrying to get back to you. We both know that neither of us is really happy, I think, but we've put too much time and energy into making this work to let it go. Committed, what a dark word. I'm freezing and thinking about other people, as usual on these long and nowadays solitary walks.

There was a dream once, a poor shabby Utopian dream. We both must have known that it would never, could never work. Living happily on next to nothing, having jobs we liked and kids and dogs. We ended up with careers, and brats, and a mutt. Some dream. I wonder what they're doing some days; if he's living this gray life, or if he's got the husky puppy that he wanted and is following his parents into government work. Then I shut it out again, back to reality and tediously long days and longer nights. Whatever we once had that made those evenings magical has disappeared into your TV and my novels, we each live our own separate fantasy worlds.

In the alley next to the "cozy" apartment is a girl on her cell phone. Silly young thing, shouting and ranting to whoever is on the line, tears and rosy anger boiling in her cheeks. I want to tell her to give up now, accept the mediocrity; but she has years ahead of her to learn that. Tomorrow she will go to the coffee shop that she works at and and there will be a message and a brownie and she will forgive and sigh at her own dream. My key scraping in the door drags me back to my own story, and the snotty nose that is waiting for tired hands to wipe it.

Just Livin' the dream.