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Jaime
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0 posted 2003-06-02 05:52 PM


I shifted the small silver ring between my fingers before letting it hang loosely on my pinky finger, staying aware of its presence yet not enough to keep it from falling and hitting the pavement with a slight clatter.  I bent over to pick it up and returned it to its designated finger.  Then I turned to look back towards the car to see what was taking him so long.  He was fidgeting with something in the back seat that turned out to be a crumpled up McDonald’s bag with grease stains on the sides of it.  Next came two cups, which he put on top of the car while he put the driver’s seat back and closed the door.  They sat on the hood of his shiny red sports car like some kind of artifact dug up from the past.  

“I just wanted to get all of the trash out of my backseat,” he said and then smiled in the way that people smile when they are greeting someone that they are indifferent to seeing but shouldn’t be.  As if this whole procedure had become so routine that the movements were not even movements, but rather prints of a stamp that has been overused.  This didn’t bother me though until I realized that I had smiled back.

When he reached me I began walking again towards the entrance of Wal-Mart aware of his presence to the right of me and slightly behind.  We were there for condoms and laundry detergent. The laundry detergent, which was for his mom, played as our excuse for even going. He threw out the trash and then raised his hand to my lower back and let it remain there for a moment as we entered the store.  He said he’d be in the electronics section and I nodded and headed blankly for the very small section where the condoms were kept next to the pregnancy tests and the Pampers.  I always bought the condoms, since he was too embarrassed to buy them himself.  But then there were a lot of things that embarrassed him.  

I suppose you could say I had been waiting for something to hurt.  As I wandered through the isles where the lights seemed to become brighter and more offensive, I knew that we would go back home, wait until his parents fell asleep, have sex, and then I would retreat back into the guest room to listen to music and write before finally falling asleep in the crisp, clean sheets of the oversized bed.  I remembered the other night when I had walked downstairs into the kitchen to get a glass of milk and his father nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around and saw me standing there.

“Heh. Like having a bloody ghost in the house,” he said in a sort of teasing way and then headed up the stairs to his room.  A ghost.  I let the word linger on my tongue for a while, rolling it back and forth.  But then I came to the electronics section with him reading the back of a game box and the thoughts dissipated as if they evaporated into the air itself.  I waited impatiently, yet silently until he was done [I have no interest in games] and then he took my hand and said something along the lines of, “are you ready?” as we turned to go to the checkout area.  

“Oh.  We need laundry detergent,” I said.  Kind of excited that I had an excuse to stay out for just a bit longer.  It didn’t last long though for in the next few minutes I was carrying the laundry detergent and the condoms and he was saying, “I’ll be waiting by the door.”  The polite and practically recorded greeting.  The ringing up of items.  The exchange of money.  The walking towards the door before they stop you to check your receipt.  Then the exit.  

Yes, I was definitely waiting for something.  Anything.  In the car on the drive home I watched the lights and signs we passed and peeked into the cars beside us before looking away.  Unwilling to allow the drivers and passengers the same absorption that I wanted to take from them.  My left hand was up on the driver’s seat massaging the back of his neck, but I never looked over because I knew he would look back.  He would ask me what I was thinking and I would have nothing to say.  I took my left hand away from his neck and began circling the silver claddagh ring he gave me around my finger.  I took it off and played with it between my fingers while looking out the window at the night form around us with every passing second.  Then I heard it hit the floor of the car and realized it was not in my hands.

I reached down with my right hand to pick it up, but I couldn’t find it.  




the faeries creep into my hair at night leaving it in terrible knots

[This message has been edited by Jaime (06-02-2003 07:54 PM).]

© Copyright 2003 Jaime - All Rights Reserved
Disturbed
New Member
since 2003-04-24
Posts 2

1 posted 2003-06-02 08:36 PM


While trying to paint a beast that doesn't exist, it's evident it's only to help you deal with the pain my dear.

[This message has been edited by Disturbed (06-02-2003 09:51 PM).]

Jaime
Registered
Member
Posts 250

2 posted 2003-06-02 09:54 PM


You know, Lawrence, if you don't want to talk to me anymore I don't see why you're continuing to read what I put online.

the faeries creep into my hair at night leaving it in terrible knots

xEmperorEmber
Member
since 2000-03-28
Posts 136
tx
3 posted 2003-06-02 10:02 PM


I think its a nice piece of work and i enjoyed the symbolic meaning of the ring and the way it sets the mood for thw whole poem.. full of events that seem so eoutine like life is losing its flavor... it must be horrible to live like that. im glad we dont have to anymore.
Disturbed
New Member
since 2003-04-24
Posts 2

4 posted 2003-06-02 11:13 PM


Definitely a nice piece of work.
Larry C
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286
United States
5 posted 2003-06-03 01:43 AM


Jaime,
I'm not sure I understand the nature of the other responses here. But know that I feel this piece was exremely well written. The thoughts you were thinking in the store that slipped back into the present flow flawlessly. I was daydreaming with you. Keep writing I'd like to see more. I hope all is well.   &  

If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.

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