Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Fuck You

Your stupid face
for burning itself onto my eyelids
and stamping itself in permanent ink on everything I ever saw you touch.

Your flashy-ass car
that electric shade of blue that pulls my heart out
through my shirt every time it flits past the corner of my eye.

Your fucking house
that I still drive to when I put myself on autopilot
because being there was the closest I’ve felt to being home in years.

Your calloused hands
I still feel on the sides of my face,
pulling me in to kiss the ghosts of your lips.

The odor of you after work,
all oil, and mud, and Irish Spring
whipping my butterflies into a desperate frenzy.

For reminding me how to love
just as the one foot you kept out the door froze over.

For giving her everything I never had the balls to ask for.

For being someone I couldn't hate if I tried.

For giving me memories I'll never regret.


and...

just…


fuck you...

Monday, January 27, 2014

Afterwards part V

When I woke up it was dark outside and my stomach was rumbling. It wasn’t until I was downstairs opening an empty and rank smelling fridge that I remembered where I was and that there probably wouldn’t be any food in the kitchen. Two days out of the shelter and I’d eaten the crackers I brought with me and the leg of mystery meat. I went back upstairs to my bag. I had a bottle of OJ, a can of black olives, and some jerky. None of those sounded very good, and I supposed I should save that for more dire straights. Which meant I had to try my hand at foraging.
My father was a great man. However, one thing he never taught me was how to feed myself without a grocery store. On the one hand I figure, how hard can it be? On the other hand, I’ve tripped over air on multiple occasions. I thought I had a pretty good idea what not to eat. Mushrooms can’t be trusted in the wild, and I guess you probably shouldn’t eat poison oak or ivy or whatever. I was just going to have to see what I could do and hope I didn’t eat anything that could kill me.
I wasn’t halfway down the stairs when Zander was behind me. “Where you goin’?”
“Why do you care?” I said not stopping to look at him.
“Well you’re not going outside.”
“Excuse me?” He almost knocked me down as I stopped and turned to face him on the bottom step- which I instantly regretted seeing as it made him so much taller than me I was intimidated despite myself.
“You’re not going outside. It’s daytime.” He said stepping down to my level, making him slightly less ominous.
“Yes, daytime, the time of day when I can see what I’m doing, sounds perfect.”
“No, not perfect actually, dangerous, do you want to get attacked?” He was doing this thing where he looked like he was about to start laughing at me on but also looked kind of concerned on the inside where he thought I couldn’t see him.
“I want to eat.” I might’ve been pouting a little. “If there’s no ‘we’ I’m going to have to take care of that myself aren’t I? If there’s no ‘we’ why should you care if I get attacked?”
“I don’t,” he was totally lying, “I just don’t want you giving away my position.”
“Well I’m hungry, so I’m going to find some food.”
He sighed in annoyance. “There’s some food in my room upstairs, I’ll get you some if you want it.” He stared at me waiting for my answer. I didn’t want to take him up on the offer, but it did seem like the best option, and the pains in my stomach and my, well, everything else, reminded me of the events of the last few days, making me tired.
“Yes please.” I said quietly to the bottom step.
“I’ll be right back.” He said with a roll of the eyes that made me feel like a total mooch.
When he returned he had a near-empty bag of stale biscuits and some spreadable cheese in a can that had never been opened. I was standing awkwardly and sheepishly in the same spot.
“Don’t look so pathetic, it’s not that hard to find stuff, I can feed both of us as long as you can watch my bag when I need you to.” He threw one of the biscuits at me and headed into the kitchen. I followed him in and sat at my spot.
We ate in silence for a few moments. Well, I ate in silence, but after those few moments I realized Zander wasn’t eating, he was just staring at me with his head to the side, again reminding me of a dog.
I tried to swallow the dry bit of biscuit in my mouth before asking uncomfortably, “what?”
“You really don’t know what’s up?” He asked, eyes narrowed.
“Um, I guess not.” I said, a bit surprised by the sudden recycling of conversation topics. “Well,” I had to clear my throat of the slightly old tasting cheese, “I know something happened and a ton of people are dead, including my mom and sister, and that people are desperate for resources. I knew enough about why I was hiding in my family’s old bomb shelter to stay inside, but no specifics or anything. I guess my dad was waiting to tell me until I was older and could handle it better or something.”
“Hmm, crappy planning on his part huh?” He said taking a bite.
“Hey shut up! He wasn’t planning on going missing!”
“Well shouldn’t that be the first thing you plan for?” He was being so freakin casual. “If I had kids in an apocalypse scenario the first thing I’d teach them is what to do if something happened to me.”
“Well my dad just had more respect for my innocence than that.” I didn’t like feeling naive.
“I think innocence went out the window when he turned you into a medical fugitive.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He snuck you out when he knew there was going to be a quarantine. Plus you’re a girl who’s mother and sister died of the disease, they would’ve wanted you for research.”
“Okay Zander, if you’re going to keep bringing up things I don’t know about you’re going to have to fill me in on what happened. Being able to see only bits and pieces of what I’m sure is a pretty big picture is getting really annoying.”
He just kept eating! For, like, ever! He talks crap on my dad for not preparing me properly for the apocalypse and he won’t even tell me how serious an apocalypse we’re in! What a prick.
“Hello?” I am not a patient person.
       “Hold on dude, I’m trying to think.” He looked like he was trying to see how much biscuit he could get in his mouth at once.
       “Come on! I’m not a little kid, if I’m gonna live in this world I’m gonna need to know what I’m dealing with right?”
       “Shut up! I’m just trying to think where to start.” He said through his food.
       “How about start where everyone starts dying.” I said rolling my eyes.
       He swallowed. He was out of biscuit.
       “Okay, so,” He paused and narrowed his eyes at me. “Okay so you know that disease that killed your mom and sister?”
       “Um, yeah.” Duh.
       “Well, it killed pretty much everyone’s mom and sister. It killed pretty much every female. I think the last report I saw there were, like, 200 men for every one woman who kept from getting sick.”
       “What about the ones who didn’t get sick?” The look on his face made me feel like that was a really stupid question.
       “No one didn’t get sick.” He said simply, and meaningfully, as he watched my face with his eyes narrowed.
       “Well, my dad didn’t get sick.” I stopped there. So did he, for a moment.
       “What about you?”
       “Well, no.” For some reason I felt a little nervous.
       “You were exposed to it right? Your mom had it, and your sister had enough of it that your dad knew he had to leave her behind.”
       “Well, I didn’t touch them or anything, I don’t think I was really exposed.”
       He was shaking his head. “The thing was airborne.”
       “Well, what do you want me to say? I didn’t get sick. I’m sorry? What difference does it make?”
       “Were you listening? 200 men for every one woman! And you have whatever genetic oddity that made maybe 1000 people worldwide immune to the thing. You’re an extremely hot commodity. I could probably sell you for a Thanksgiving feast.”
       “Sell me? What the-?” I was starting to think panic might be appropriate when he started laughing at me again.
       “Calm down, I said I could, not that I would. What I’m trying to say is, it makes a difference because as valuable as any woman would be, a woman that has never been infected is almost priceless. There are people in this mess who would literally give their right arm to have you, and when I say literally I mean literally. The disease attacked people on a genetic level, many of the surviving women are deformed, a few are barren which makes them useless to the men I’m talking about who would kill to get their hands on someone like you. They’re kind of weird to look at, the survivors, and the weird looking women are churning out weird looking babies, a lot of them are about as smart as a cardboard box. The prettiest women with the highest healthy birth rates are prisoners. They’re kept locked up in closets and cellars and used as breeding machines. A woman who has never been infected, who is naturally as cute as you are, who can have many healthy children… I’m honestly not sure exactly what they’d do with you, I mean, they need you healthy, but they don’t need you happy, and they certainly don’t need you running away or putting up a fight.” He paused. “You’re literally one in a million.”
       It was hard to picture. It was harder to believe.
       “How do you know? You know? I mean, there could’ve been more people immune in other countries-”
       “They were reporting on other countries, it was the same everywhere. Besides, even if there were more like you in other countries, how does that make you any less vulnerable in this country? It’s kinda irrelevant isn’t it?”
       “Maybe you have a point, but how would they even know I was never infected? What does it do to you? Physically?”
“Well, there was some kind of a breakdown of bone mass and fat cells, so everyone is way too muscular looking, but weirdly not super skinny. They’re smaller, but they’re stronger than before, and there sure as hell isn’t any feminine shape left. It’s kind of hard to explain but you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it. Plus it messed with pigmentation in a lot of people, most everyone is super blonde or grey now, and pale, and I think one of the freakiest things is that the irises in people’s eyes are gone, the pupils are still there but the rest is just white. So you kinda get why you’d be extra attractive? In addition to being able to bear healthy, normal children, it’s a bit gross screwing an uber-muscular skeleton with demon eyes.” He looked away from me.
“It didn’t affect the men in the same way?” I asked, trying to catch his eye.
“No, it did.” He was totally avoiding my gaze.
“So, you didn’t get sick either then.”
After a pause he replied simply, “Nope.”
“Well then why were you making such a big deal out of me being immune? Like you’d never seen it before or something, like I was this weird freak.”
“Because, you’re the only girl I’ve ever heard of not getting sick. I made a big deal about it because you need to understand how careful you have to be.” He looked back at me, a mixture of worry and relief on his face. “You are kind of a freak, but, I mean, so am I. It’s kind of cool I guess, finding someone else.”
“I know I have to be careful, my dad taught me that much, but I also have to survive. I can’t stay hidden alone in that bunker forever, I’ll starve to death right after I go insane.”
“Well now you’re here. So no worries right? Well, sort of.” He smiled, like that was funny.
“Well no actually. I have no idea how to fend for myself.”
“Well, you have me.”
“Well how long is that supposed to last?”
“Well how many times do you think we can say ‘well’ in this conversation?”
“Well that’s an abrupt change in subject.” It was kind of funny though.
“Well I thought it was funny.”
“Well I thought there was no ‘we.’”
He was suddenly serious. “I didn’t say there was no ‘we,’ I just asked you why you assumed that I’d want to hang around and take care of someone who doesn’t know how to take care of themselves in an apocalypse situation. That’s not a very good survival strategy.”
       “So is there a ‘we’ or isn’t there?” I asked somewhat quietly, cautiously.
       He shrugged. “Well yea I guess there is. What kind of guy would I be if I left you alone knowing you’d probably get yourself killed or caught. Plus the company might be nice for a change even if you are a burden.”
       “Well then why’d you make me feel like an idiot before for saying ‘we?’” Jerk.
       “I had to think about it. Even if I teach you to fend for yourself, you’re a pretty significant burden at least until you know everything you need, and considering you’ve been hiding in a stocked bomb shelter for ten years or so I’m thinking that’ll be a while.” He said it so casually.
       “Gee, thanks.” I was a little insulted. I liked to think I wasn’t completely useless.
       “Oh come on, don’t be such a girl, I’m not trying to insult you, I’m trying to be realistic.”
       “Well I’ve had enough realism for one morning, thanks.” I tried not to look too butt-hurt as I made my way towards the back door.
       “Whoa!” He grabbed my shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”
       “For a walk, is that illegal?” Why was he looking at me like that?
       “Did you not just hear a single word I said? You were a part of that conversation, right? You can’t go outside in broad daylight by yourself and just walk around. If someone sees you you’re in deep shit. Whether they kidnap you, or rape you right then and there, or watch where you go to find your stash and hideout before taking you captive, which by the way would be here, where I also hide out, you’re screwed in more ways than one.”

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Afterwards part IV

A charged silence brought me out of my head and back into my new reality. Zander had stopped eating and was staring towards the back of the house in a way that reminded me of a dog trying to decide whether or not he should bark. I turned my attention in the same direction, but everything seemed pretty normal to me. I thought about asking him what was up, but before I had even drawn breath he had yanked me down under the table and had his hand placed firmly over my mouth. 
Rude! I squirmed to get out of his grasp but he held me with no effort, and his attention never left the back of the house. I smacked his chest, likely hurting my hand more than him, but the noise at least got him to look at me. His eyes were wide in earnest and he had his finger placed over his lips telling me to be quiet. Yea, I got that before. Remembering our brief time together during childhood I thought of an old tactic that had always worked in these situations; I licked his hand. It tasted like dirt, but it worked. He was angrily rubbing his hand clean (ish) on his jeans and staring at me with a mixture of disgust and disbelief, but at least I could breathe now. 
 A shadow passed on the wall opposite us. He looked at me, again with his finger pressed against his lips. I nodded. He slowly and soundlessly moved to look out from under the table. Suddenly I was scared. Really scared. I grabbed at his shirt to pull him back under the table shaking my head, trying to convince him silently that he shouldn’t do anything that could get him seen. He smiled at me. Gently, he moved my hand from his shirt to my own knee, patted it twice in a way that I suppose was meant to be comforting, but felt kinda belittling, and crawled out from under the table.
 Awesome. My one and only method of self defense was going to go investigate the origins of the creepy shadow on the wall. Anyone who has ever seen a scary movie knows investigating gets people killed. I listened carefully for sounds of strangling or stabbing. Not like I’d heard them before, but I figured I’d know it if I heard it. Nothing seemed to be happening. My short attention span led me quickly to boredom, and I started really looking around my old dining room.
 I couldn’t see much of the kitchen because the breakfast bar was in the way. I could see the calendar still on the fridge. The first week of the month has red slashes through it’s days. Dinner for each day was written in purple sparkly ink up until the 15th - payday. The grocery list was gone, but I still knew the place by the calendar it should’ve been. Most of the pictures had fallen, or faded past recognition, except a picture of my cousins playing in our backyard when they were toddlers. Next to my hiding place, under the bench by the back wall, was a dirty old sock (probably my dad’s) and a toy horse.
 I reached to examine the toy. My sister and I had been obsessed. Other girls played dress up with their dolls or house with their friends, but me and my baby sister were only interested in our little plastic horses. Well, we had other animals too, for dramatic purposes. My favorite had been a muscular grey unicorn, with fur on his hooves like a draft horse and a thick white mark down his nose. His horn was broken in half, he had lost it in a territory war a year or so after he was given to me. My sister’s was a dainty palomino with a long silky white mane and tail she would brush idly in her spare time. This horse that survived was a brown and white paint, with blue eyes and feathers braided into his plastic mane. He played the wise old horse in our little fantasies. Once he had advised my brave stallion that the herd should move north, to escape the pack of vicious and evil wolves that would be moving soon to their valley. My sister’s palomino (the stallion’s young wife) urged him to listen to the Old One, but he was too proud to move his grand herd for the sake of a few dogs. In the end the wolves proved too great a foe and my unicorn and a few of his bravest fighters were forced to sacrifice their lives so the women and children could escape to the bright valley in the north. There was a long tearful goodbye and an epic battle scene. It was all very dramatic and my sister and I were quite satisfied at the end of it. I’d have to hold on to him.
 Still the house was quiet. I couldn’t figure out if that was a good sign or a bad sign. I thought of horror movies I had seen. If I stayed put, alone and basically defenseless, I was likely to be discovered and brutally murdered. If I went looking for Zander, I could either run into a crazy person and end up dead, or I could find Zander. If I found Zander, he could either be already dead or still alive. If he was still alive we could die together or escape together. I was not really happy with the chances of survival after riding that train of thought.
 I had just about convinced myself to go looking for him when I heard footsteps in the hall. I froze, held my breath, I swear my heart stopped beating for a moment. This was it. Crazy murder man had found me. I was going to die.
“All clear.” Said Zander calmly as he sat back to his meal. I reminded my body to work again and moved back up into my seat. I sat staring at him, munching on his roasted cat like everything was totally normal.
“So….?” I inquired eloquently.
“So what?” He said without looking up.
“What happened with the shadow? Where’s the crazy murderer?”
He laughed at me. I might’ve liked his laugh if it wasn’t always directed at me…
“There was no crazy murderer. Whoever was out there is gone. Still, we need to make sure we stay under the radar, that’s the first time anyone’s come around here for a long time, I think they heard all that noise you made.”
“You mean the noise we made?” I said defensively.
“No, I mean the noise you made. I was just trying to tell you not to freak out, and what’s the first thing you do?”
I pouted until I was done with my meal, (if you could call it that) but after sitting quietly for far too long I decided answers were more important than spite.
“So what exactly is going on?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” He was picking at his fingernails.
“I mean what’s going on? Why are you hiding in my house? Why were you so freaked about someone finding us? What are we going to do now?” I paused. “Where is everyone?”
He stared for a moment with a mixture of curiosity and condescension on his face. “What makes you think there’s a ‘we?’” He leaned forward across the table towards me.
“Well-” I started, feeling stupid again. “Well I don’t know. I mean you’re all by yourself, and I’m by myself, and we were friends once…”
“That was a long time ago, and did you think maybe I’m alone because I want to be?” He got up from the table and began towards the hallway. “I can’t afford to worry about you. Do whatever you want now, I couldn’t care less.” I was left alone.
Whatever, you know? I didn’t need him. I didn’t even want him. He was the reason I was hurting all over anyways, scaring me the way he did. I could take care of myself just fine.
So I went up to my old bedroom. I was friggin’ exhausted and everything hurt. I laid down on my old bed. Examining the old horse, in my old room, next to my sister’s old bed, I felt kind of nice, peaceful sort of, for a moment. After that moment though, I started to feel how abandoned the place felt. I noticed the paint I helped my mom pick out peeling off the walls. I noticed the shreds of thread fraying out of the curtains and the blankets. Mostly I noticed how quiet it was in this house I always remembered to be full of the sounds of life; of my family’s life. Laying there, with the old toy horse in my hands, in my old room, in my bed, I closed my eyes for the first time in years and really remembered.
There was a scene, like a movie in my mind playing, not as clear as I would’ve liked, but clear enough. My sister and I were at the beach. I could hear Dad’s metal detector somewhere in the background. We were freezing because we were absolutely soaked with ocean water we weren’t supposed to have gone into.
“It’s your own faults.” My mother had said when we complained about a lack of towels.
We had dug pits in the sand warmed by the sun and we were laying on our backs looking at shapes in the clouds when we heard a car in one of the parking lots playing a song we liked. She started singing, but she was off key a little. I began singing over her, partially to help her correct herself and partially so I wouldn’t have to hear her anymore. So she sang louder, sacrificing quality for volume. Soon we were screaming the lyrics that had already been shut off as loud and as terribly as we could manage. The song quickly melted into hysterical laughter that brought tears to our eyes.
I rolled onto my side to look at my sister’s bed and wondered if her singing might’ve improved if she’d been given the chance to grow up. Then I curled into the fetal position and cried myself to sleep.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

On Pudding and Booze

Many things in life are disappointing.
My first real letdown was the realization;
dogs cannot talk.
I was saddened by this fact, but I moved on
and still, once in a while, I try to catch one off guard
hoping it'll slip up and reveal the great canine secret.
Then, years later, I was a hopeful eleven-year-old
eagerly awaiting my Hogwarts acceptance letter.
Of course it never came, because I am a muggle,
I've accepted it, and I get by without magic
and I keep a wary eye out for wizardry.
Then one day I attempted love, and it bit me,
I was not deterred - at first.
This happened repeatedly and I came to learn
my third great disappointment;
Love is not all you need.
But never once in this life has a bowl of chocolate pudding
left me disappointed, hurt, or feeling empty,
and not yet has a bottle of wine failed to appear
when I needed it most. So I say from now to the end of days
I shall live my life not relying on fleeting dreams or flighty people,
but on the ever reliable pudding and booze.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Phantom

I do everything in my power
to keep my mind occupied
and away from the subject of you.
Despite doing my best
to minimize the risk of feeling
sick with emptiness,
overcome with anger,
dissolved in loneliness,
somehow you sneak in,
every other moment or so
and every night as I lay down to sleep.
I miss the smell of you
and the way you walk
with gentle strength that drives me wild.
I miss the thought of you
coming in while I sleep
and lying down beside me,
scooping me into your arms.
I miss your warmth,
your quiet breathing in the dark,
and your morning eagerness.
Maybe sleep will get you off my mind,
but likely I'll dream of you,
as I've been known to do,
and there you'll be,
in my thoughts, when I wake.

Monday, January 20, 2014

The Edge of Feeling

The loneliness is a rope
tied around my chest
refusing to allow my lungs
expansion.
I feel the familiar numbing sensation,
the emotional abyss I could so easily
fall into, again, but emptiness,
darkness
is more painful than any sorrow.
The inability to feel pain or joy,
loneliness or the warmth of another
... it isn't worth it.
I won't jump.
Not again.
Though... falling would be
so easy... all I'd need to do
is let go...
I've learned this lesson once
I know I should step back,
that all that waits in that dark space
at the bottom of me
is the inescapable ache
of losing the ability to love...
but love is what tied the cord
that keeps me from breathing,
love is what threatens to throw me
back into my bottomless pit.
I could simply... let it...
Maybe I am too tired,
maybe I spread my love too thin,
maybe I don't have enough left
to give...
Standing on the edge of feeling
just trying to keep breathing.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Some Days

Some days
I wake up and just know
today I’m not human.
I go through the motions
with no pain and no sorrow,
no joy and no wonder,
seeing myself from outside.
Some days
I can’t move
because I feel so alone.
Nearly every one to whom
I’ve tried so hard to show my love
has left me in the dust, crying out.
Some days
nothing can touch me
so far above the rest of the world
the shit can’t hit me,
even with the fan’s help
I’m too far out of reach.
But most days
it’s debilitating;
the pain of knowing these people
don’t need me anymore.
I lay in bed, begging for a reason
to rise and be whole again
finding nothing to hold on to.