Photograph by (x)
It was a chilly November. The streets were starting to simmer down as the clock ticked deeper into the night. People walking by mindlessly along the streets as they found themselves stuck in the bubble they’ve created. We had a couple drinks back then, one after the other glasses, and bottles came to our table, our disregard towards how we acted slowly dwindling down until it hit that point when we didn’t care at all. Laughter poured out of our mouths and for the first time in a long time it felt like nothing could go wrong.
I don’t exactly remember how we found ourselves dancing under the moonlight, my cheeks pressed against his as I stared down the lit cigarette in between his fingers. “I love this woman!” He shouted as he spun me around suddenly. His eyes shone with feelings I never once saw in them, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the corner of his lips slightly tugging upwards into a grin. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”
My eyes darted on his as my hands framed his face. The chill of the night suddenly hitting me as I felt the goosebumps starting to show on my arms.
“You just did. You’re drunk. Let’s get back inside.”
“Mmkay.”
When you go into a relationship, you never really think of that day when it all ends. Cause why would you,right? No one does. But then, time flies, things happen, you change, they change and all of a sudden, you wake up and they’re not there anymore. You find yourself blankly staring at a cold and empty space beside your bed that used to belong to them.
I know I’m being pathetic right now, and I need you to let me be pathetic. For the next half hour, I need you to just let me cry over that part of me that I never thought I’d lost but did. Because I haven’t cried yet and I think that’s unhealthy.
And I blame this one particular show for triggering all these repressed emotions and opening a dam of salty tears and snot—undeniably the unsexiest image of me right now— and making me like this.
It wasn’t Robert’s intention to turn the opposite direction to his apartment and ride his bike towards the street he knew Mandy’s house was in. He had only been there once when he offered to take care of her when she was sick, and despite the confusing twist and turns he had to do to get there, the way to her house was still fresh on his mind. He turned the corner that led to her street, slowing down to a halt until he reached her house. The bike hummed quietly under his palms, his breaths even. He figured that, unless anyone else in the area could hear the merciless beating of his heart or find out that there were butterflies punching their way out of his stomach, he could convince them that he was calm. Not that anyone asked anyway.
What was he doing in front of her house? he wondered, Why didn’t he drive his bike straight to the apartment right after work like he used to? He desperately wanted to know the answers to his questions; the thoughts going in and out of his head were making him crazy. That was a lie. He wasn’t going crazy, not entirely at least. He knew perfectly well why he was parked outside of Mandy’s house right now, knew why he took a left instead of a right at that stop sign. It had been days since the wedding and all he wanted do was see her. He wanted to find something, anything, other than that reason because as simple as it was, it held more to it than just a simple visit to see how she was. He shrugged the thought at the back of his mind, he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He couldn’t.
He patted the pockets of his jacket, his shirt and then his pants. His fingers grabbing hold on a thin piece of plastic before pulling it out. Hey Mands, he thought, You dropped your pen during the wedding and I just came by to give it back to you because you know, you have a business now and you wouldn’t want to not have a pen. He hung his head, letting it fall down to the handle bars until he felt his bike’s vibrations on his forehead. For a moment he just stayed there, mentally slapping himself for being so ridiculous. With a groan he sat back up and bitterly threw the pen to the street.
Robert let his eyes wander around the neighborhood for a moment, letting himself think about anything else besides Mandy and the frustratingly confusing reactions he gets just by the sound of her name. “Get your shit together, Stoner!” he said before turning the engine to his Ducati off, swinging his leg to the side and walking up the steps to her door. “You’re here as a friend and nothing more, friends hang out, right?” he said to himself, pacing back and forth before finally deciding to stand at her door. He bounced on his feet and shook his arms to the side, his hands shaking as his finger hovered over the doorbell to her house. With a deep breath he pushed down on the button slowly, the sounds of the ring echoing in his ears. Panic started to rise up from his feet, up his chest and on to his head. “Shit!” he turned on his heel and made a mad dash to his bike, straddling it before kicking the starter, revving his engine and letting go of the clutch so that it moved forward.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Stoner,” he said to himself as he sped up and made his way back to his house.
I guess all this time we both knew that we couldn’t go on. We were just too scared to wake up alone on a bed we once knew we shared or go on with a different routine where the other isn’t there.
How do you decide to let go of someone you’ve spent so long getting used to being there? How can you imagine yourself going through the days without them asking how your day went, or what you’ve decided to cook for dinner, or what movie to watch.
We hit our wall when we went out and he forgot the keys to the house. We raised our voices in a middle of a crowded parking lot, bringing up old arguments we thought we’d settled, not caring about the judgmental stares of people passing by us. And as our voices echoed through the night, we realized that at that moment this was the end.
We knew that it was time to move on. That despite the love and care we had for each other, we had to stop.
So that night, amidst noiseless tears and bits of ourselves slowly shattering into little pieces, we’ve decided to let memories be just what they are—a thing of the past.
“Alright, enough about me,” she said as she sat up. “You’re next.”
It’s been hours since James and Annie started playing their personalized version of 20 questions. Every answer bringing them closer to each other.
She opened her mouth to speak but faltered as he lifted up a finger to silence her. “Try not to be lame this time.”
She glared at him.
She pursed her lips and looked at him, her blue eyes playing as she thought of all the questions she wanted to ask. Should I make it funny? Serious? What about wity?, she thought.
“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he chuckled.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” she said as her eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, I got it!”
“Shoot.”
“If you could go back in time and say anything to your past self without going against space time continuum laws—”
“Space time continuum laws?”
“You know very well what I’m talking about! Now, be quiet because I’m not done yet.”
James chuckled and held his hands up, a smile playing on his face. “Okay,okay.”
“Right. If you could go back in time and say anything to your past self, what would you say?”
James thought about her question and the life he’d already spent, all the ups, the downs, regrets, and bliss. He looked into Annie’s eyes and all of a sudden he knew that every single event, no matter how devastating,jubilant,frustrating or delightful, brought him to where he is now.
With her.
“I would tell myself that I’m going to be okay.”
I was cleaning out the apartment today when I found a picture of her under the cooking book in the kitchen. She never wanted anyone to take a picture of her, she always told me how much more comfortable it was for her to be the one taking it.
That morning I told her that I wanted to take a picture of the plate she was holding because I’ve never seen crepes stacked so high up. She didn’t believe it of course, it was a stupid reason. But she went along with it anyway.
There are days when I start to forget her and then someone calls out her name, smells like her, has her smile or , if I’m lucky, I find a concrete reminder of a time when there was an us—like a photo of her under a cooking book.
And I loose all the progress I made.
(photo by lazareva valeria)
Whenever you think about airports, you never really get this feel of negativity surrounding it. Regardless of the world’s current situation of hatred and greed. As you wait inside the crowded gates of a terminal you look around and see that your face is probably being mirrored by a trillion more surrounding the tarmac. All anxiously waiting for their loved ones to get out.
Sophia usually chooses to sit down on the far side of the gates. Away from all the husbands,wives,children,boyfriends,girlfriends…dogs. It gives herself time to catch her breath and control the erratic beating of her chest. They’ve been together for a year, Sophia and Mark, taking turns on who’s flying where next, you’d think after the first time she picked up her boyfriend in the airport the next ones won’t be as nerve-wracking. But the thing is, it never really went away, she always felt that push and pull of emotions as she waits for him— anxious, excited, self-conscious, elated. It always feels like the first time for her.
The lady in the speakers announced that Flight C423 from California had just landed. She looked around and saw people swaying their bodies, letting out their small, personal, signs of anxiety— a brush of the hair, tap of the shoe, clasping their hands together. Hers was gluing her ass to the chair.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and all efforts of staying calm just went out of the window.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hello to you too, is everything okay?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” she said too quickly.
“Liar,” he said playfully.
“Oh shut up, it’s the airport. Airports make me anxious.”
“Right, right.” She stood up from her seat and began looking for him, excusing herself from strangers who were just as excited as her to see the person they’ve been waiting for get out of the gates.
“Where are you?”
“I’m…In the airport?”
“Very funny, that doesn’t really give me much.”
“I’m right here,” he said calmly. “Okay, I see you.”
“That’s scary cause I can’t see you.” She heard the faint sound of his chuckle through the phone.
She brought her hand up and started biting her nails as she usually does when she’s antsy.
“You know, doctors said nail biting is a bad habit.” Sophia’s eyes widened and she immediately put her hand down by her side. “Now that is just creepy! Where are you?”
All of a sudden she felt a pair of strong arms envelope her waist. The stubble on her neck and that all too familiar warmth she missed for the past months.
“Right here,” he said.
photo cred
She was sitting crossed leg on their bed. He was moving around the room with no shirt on and she found this amusing. A small smile played on her face.
An open luggage filled to the brim laid heavy on the space beside her, it was tattered and red, stickers from all the trips he took still slapped on the handle. She took a glance at it and held in her breath.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around her body and she melted into the touch, her worries flying away as he squeezed tighter. “I’ll be back as soon as you know it,” he whispered.
We’ll get through this, she thought.
They were standing on the middle of a crowded tiled floor. Their hands entwined, their heads tilted up the huge screen in front of them. Not caring about the chaos that is the Los Angeles International Airport.
When they got out of the car she offered to carry his bag. He would’ve said “No” if it wasn’t for the way her eyes lit up when she knew that she could do something for him before he left. So he smiled and handed his bag to her.
He looked at her for the last time and brought his lips to her head before he boarded the plane to leave. He closed his eyes and imprinted the moment into memory, hoping that once he left he could always go back and replay it in his mind.
“I’ll see you when you get back,” she said her eyes welling up with tears she tried desperately to hold back. “I’ll always be here.”
And he believed her. He believed that despite unfavorable circumstances they could keep going; he knows that its worth it. That she’s worth it.
He held her tighter in his arms, afraid that if he opens his mouth the bravado he showed would crumple and in place a boyfriend who didn’t want to leave his girl.
So he just hugged her.
“I’ll come back for you,” he called out as he stepped into the tarmac. “I promise!”
We’ll get through this, he thought.
(hit play)
I felt so small laying down under the stars. I basked in the sounds of the waves hitting the rocks, forcing it to lull my senses to the point where I was calm.
“I knew I’d find you here” he said. “Can I join you?”
I tilted my head to the side and saw the contours of his face be highlighted by the soft shine of the moon. I closed my eyes and nodded my head, feeling him shift as he set himself on the dry patch of grass beside me.
We both just laid there, him on my left, me on his right, comfortable with the silence that surrounds us.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
“Terrified.”
“Me too,” he breathed.
I turned to my side and looked up at him, my hand brushing his face. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat like a lullaby.
Rhythmic and strong.
“Everything’s going to be alright, I prom—”
“Stop it, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” I said, burying my face further into his chest. “Just..Just hold me.”
He put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his. “Okay.”
And so we laid there, my head on his chest as tears streaked noiselessly down my face. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tighter. His thumbs drawing circles on my arm. Every now and then he’d let go and press his lips on mine, each one feeling more like a goodbye than the former.
“I’ll go back for you,” he said. “I promise.”
