thoughts from the raft. #1

when she said she loved him he laughed. he said to her of course she loved him, who else was she going to love. then he hit her. again. where else was she going to find someone else to love. who would love her anyways. what man could ever love a woman who lets herself get beaten. how could she be in love with a man that hits her like he does.

she walks around in circles. her hands held tightly over her ears. she tries to keep the voices out. but they don't listen. she can hear the whispering getting closer. getting louder. she had a dream last night that everything stopped. that she had been a good girl. and that her mother hadn't gone away. that people didn't look at her as she went by. the circles get smaller as she gets more frantic. she'll die if they reach her. she knows it. she tried once before to stop them coming. but....well it didn't work out. this time she'll make sure it works. this time she'll get it right. this time the voices will stop. they'll stop this time cause she will stop. the circles are getting smaller and smaller and.....

when she walks the streets. he gets into her mind and it makes her smile. she's not sure how to deal with what she feels. the words he says sneak in there and get her thinking. she thinks of how stupid she looks smiling for no apparent reason. but there is a reason. and she'll not share it with anyone. his words are for her. and her alone. he has started something that she finds difficult to handle. but she doesn't want it to stop. is it okay for her to feel this way? at home she closes her eyes and dreams. his face comes to her and makes her forget. the pain and the loneliness she feels. she tries to read but the words on the page swirl into a mass of black type. how is she suppose to concentrate on faulkner when all she can think about is him? she continues to read but the words lose all meaning. he is in her head. the thought of his touch. his lips on her skin. the warmth of his breath. she closes her eyes and she can see him. he makes her smile. she runs her fingers down her throat. but she hears the children coming home fom school and the connection is broken. she opens her eyes and pushes him out of her mind. for now.

she sits on the wooden swing in the backyard, gently swaying back and forth. the sun warm on her face. a plane flies overhead on its way to who know where. she thinks of him. where is he. what is he doing. she wonders. when he makes love to his wife, is he thinking of her. does he have to catch himself before calling out her name in that most unguarded moment. has his lovemaking gained an urgency it didn't have before her. does he act out his fantasies in their bed, his mind occupied with thoughts of her. does he consider it cheating. she doesn't know how he thinks his wife would react. she is playing a dangerous game. she knows that. she doesn't care. she has no boundaries. he knows this about her. she should stop. he should stop. does he want to stop she wonders. she doesn't want to stop. she will hold onto him for as long as he will allow her.

he walked into the kitchen barefoot and clad only in jeans. his hair was tossled from sleep and he hadn't shaved for three days. she feels a familiar tug deep in her belly. she smiles to herself at the thought of how his rough jaw feels against her thigh. he comes to her kissing her neck. he smells faintly of yesterday and last night's sex. she breathes him in and sighs. is this love? she doesn't know. she's not even sure what love is. she just figured love was something that had no relevance to what her life had become. what she did know though, was that when he was near, her heart beat faster. she knows that when he is not with her the anxiety that slowly builds up inside her, dissipates only with his returned presence. he is all she thinks about. she truly believes that if he ever left, she would feel like Juliet; as if a dagger had been driven straight through her heart.

The last sliver of yellow moon hangs in the darkening sky like a cheshire grin. She looks at it and smiles. It is the only thing that makes her smile these days. She walks up the small hill weighed down by her purchases. She shifts he calico bag from her left hand to her right, before hoisting up onto her shoulder. She thinks of him. As she turns the corner, the wind hits her. She falters in her step. She hasn’t spoken to him for almost a month. Regaining her composure, she heads for home. She will be alone when she gets there. She thinks she could get used to the quiet again. She knows that any resolution will have to come from him. She will not apologise. She doesn’t see that she needs to. She is stubborn that way. And she isn’t prepared to change. Not even for him. He knew what she was like. She had told him often enough. But for a while she thought she could do it. She was in love with him enough to deny herself. And for a while she did do it. He was sober, so she stayed sober. He told her she didn’t have to, but she said she could at least do this. When she said it, she did mean it. She thought she could do it. She thought she could do anything with him by her side. And then it all fell apart. While she was awake late at night and he was asleep. When she wrote, she drank. He’d wake up in the morning and she’d be dead to the world. So he’d be quiet and go about his thing trying not to disturb her. And then the drinking started earlier, when he was awake. For months he said nothing. He loved her. He didn’t love what she was doing, but he didn’t want to be without her. She started to repulse him and he faked every emotion he had. For her. He could fall with her but that would be too much of a betrayal to himself to justify. Finally he confronted her. Told her she had to pick. It was either them or the drinking. She responded like any cornered animal would. She lashed out. She got so drunk one night that she fell through the shower screen, shattering it into thousands of pieces. Finding her naked and bleeding on the bathroom floor, unconscious from the fall and the booze was the final straw. He couldn’t trust himself around her anymore. He drove her to the hospital and left her there. She was more than he could handle. So when she came home, he told her. If she continued to drink, then he couldn’t stay. She missed him. She missed him so much that it ached. In her bones, it ached. And she hasn’t drank since the day he left. Maybe that’s why she ached. Perhaps it was her body craving the booze. But still, she can’t promise him that she never will.

he listens to the music of the dead. he shuts himself away in his box and listens to charlie parker, john lennon, thin lizzy. he has no time for people who still draw breath. he thinks they are a waste of space. sometimes he thinks he is too. but he sees his living as his revenge on a society gone mad. a society that doesn't seem to mind when other people die or are killed. just so long as it doesn't touch them. in . any. way. at. all. he watches them all the time. they are fascinating to him. but at the same time he finds them infuriating. they rush around like so many insects. though they are oblivious to the world they are creating. a world created in their own image. of images. for images. it's all become about the image. he is not like them. if he thought he had ever become like them, he would kill them all before he'd end his own life. he caught himself. he knew he wouldn't have to kill them. they were killing themselves. slowly. from their unblemished birth. slowly. through childhoods of abuse. slowly. to adults abusing themselves. slowly. slowly. by the time they are in their twenties they are already dead. they just don't know it.

she didn't know what to do. but she knew that she wanted him. her ultimatums were bluffs. with such a distance between them, that's all they could be. he had his safety net. all she had was herself. to her right now, he was everything. maybe that was her mistake. he made her feel emotions she didn't even know existed. though it may not be the case, and she's sure he would feel differently, she felt that he had all the control. whether this was true or not was irrelevant to her. it is how she felt and she couldn't help it. he was the one in the situation that had more angles than she thought necessary. she felt she was lying to herself. to her it was simple. she wanted him, so she should have him. he said he wanted her. that he loved her. so what was his problem? she knew it wasn't that simple. but of course it never was, was it?