5 june
A thousand sharp rocks
sliding down the wet face
of the cliffside.
The Placebo Effect.
It was raining again, as it usually was on days like these, day when the collective world massed in front of you and turned it’s back. Synchronous. Flawless. The faces become shadows and suddenly you are the outside instead of the in. Days like these made me want to swallow a thousand rock shards. Preferably volcano. The more porous and rough the better.
“Hi Janey,” I called Janey whenever I felt like the world was ending. She hated me for it, not because she minded the doom and gloom, but because it was the only time I called it. Three weeks could pass, I might even see her in the grocery store in the luminous eery glow of the cereal aisle and not speak to her. Though our eyes connected, so there was no denying that we were in the same place at the same time.
“What do you what, Edith?” Her voice was like pencils falling flat on a floor. A linoleum floor like the ones in east coast school where all the class rooms and halls were encapsulated by a roof and the outside was outside. No mix, no question. Not like southern california school where kids roamed amid trees and gnats between classes.
“You know, the usual,” I whimpered.
“Why do you always call me like this?” She sounded irritated, like I might have interrupted her filing her nails.
“Like what?” I asked, thinking for a second that I might play the stupid card and distract myself with the I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about game. But it felt wrong on my tongue. I swished some coffee around in my mouth, old coffee that tasted like an ashtray left out in the rain. “Okay, well it’s because you’re so good at calming me down, Janey.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? All we ever do is argue about the weather.”
Lightening erupted. I crumbled a piece of paper, but the sound was pallid in comparison. The sky peeled back and dropped its secret like a 5 megaton bomb. CRACK!
“It is raining, isn’t it?” I asked rather timidly, only because I knew this was the point at which she would get really agitated. She had even thrown the phone once. At the wall. Where it shattered into significant and minor pieces and was, nonetheless, unusable. She called me back on her cell phone to let me know I owed her a phone. She told me the make and model and how much it would cost.
I thought $200 was too much for a phone, but the sky had begun clearing so I didn’t really care.
“Edith, look out of your fucking window,” she sighed and paused. The silence had a limping heart beat that slowed with each tick of the second hand. The scratch of a hand muffling the receiver interrupted the silence. ‘You promised to help her’ could be heard.
I looked out of the window, at the rain coming down as if all the water in the world was in the sky and eager to get back to earth. “Edith, it’s--”
I didn’t want her to acquiesce. I needed the argument, I needed to be convinced that it wasn’t raining. And damn it I WAS crazy. Blatant. Out-right, like a naked man walking on top of cars on a packed freeway with his body painted with the yellow reflective paint they use on streets. Unavoidably real.
“Forget it Janey. Keep your forecast to yourself.”
“But--”
“Goodbye.” I was raining and that’s all that mattered.
The next time I saw Janey, we were waiting in line for the ATM together. She studied the traffic light on the corner with particular care. The bird’s nest in the red light alcove was interesting. Why that one instead of yellow or green. Maybe it had to do with the intensity of the light. Was red the hottest?
She had a scarecrow look to her, her dark clothes hung off her body. The pants too short, the shirt too long, except in the sleeves, which were a ridiculous length of about two inches above her wrists.
When she walked by me, a cascade of 20s in her hand, I whispered “It’s raining.” I meant it very innocently. Of course it wasn’t raining. How could it with a sky so blue? But she ducked her shoulders and gazed about the sky with a mixture of fear and regret.
“It’s not really raining,” I muttered. She ran to her car, her shoulders hunched and evasive, as though running away from the rain.
sliding down the wet face
of the cliffside.
The Placebo Effect.
It was raining again, as it usually was on days like these, day when the collective world massed in front of you and turned it’s back. Synchronous. Flawless. The faces become shadows and suddenly you are the outside instead of the in. Days like these made me want to swallow a thousand rock shards. Preferably volcano. The more porous and rough the better.
“Hi Janey,” I called Janey whenever I felt like the world was ending. She hated me for it, not because she minded the doom and gloom, but because it was the only time I called it. Three weeks could pass, I might even see her in the grocery store in the luminous eery glow of the cereal aisle and not speak to her. Though our eyes connected, so there was no denying that we were in the same place at the same time.
“What do you what, Edith?” Her voice was like pencils falling flat on a floor. A linoleum floor like the ones in east coast school where all the class rooms and halls were encapsulated by a roof and the outside was outside. No mix, no question. Not like southern california school where kids roamed amid trees and gnats between classes.
“You know, the usual,” I whimpered.
“Why do you always call me like this?” She sounded irritated, like I might have interrupted her filing her nails.
“Like what?” I asked, thinking for a second that I might play the stupid card and distract myself with the I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about game. But it felt wrong on my tongue. I swished some coffee around in my mouth, old coffee that tasted like an ashtray left out in the rain. “Okay, well it’s because you’re so good at calming me down, Janey.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? All we ever do is argue about the weather.”
Lightening erupted. I crumbled a piece of paper, but the sound was pallid in comparison. The sky peeled back and dropped its secret like a 5 megaton bomb. CRACK!
“It is raining, isn’t it?” I asked rather timidly, only because I knew this was the point at which she would get really agitated. She had even thrown the phone once. At the wall. Where it shattered into significant and minor pieces and was, nonetheless, unusable. She called me back on her cell phone to let me know I owed her a phone. She told me the make and model and how much it would cost.
I thought $200 was too much for a phone, but the sky had begun clearing so I didn’t really care.
“Edith, look out of your fucking window,” she sighed and paused. The silence had a limping heart beat that slowed with each tick of the second hand. The scratch of a hand muffling the receiver interrupted the silence. ‘You promised to help her’ could be heard.
I looked out of the window, at the rain coming down as if all the water in the world was in the sky and eager to get back to earth. “Edith, it’s--”
I didn’t want her to acquiesce. I needed the argument, I needed to be convinced that it wasn’t raining. And damn it I WAS crazy. Blatant. Out-right, like a naked man walking on top of cars on a packed freeway with his body painted with the yellow reflective paint they use on streets. Unavoidably real.
“Forget it Janey. Keep your forecast to yourself.”
“But--”
“Goodbye.” I was raining and that’s all that mattered.
The next time I saw Janey, we were waiting in line for the ATM together. She studied the traffic light on the corner with particular care. The bird’s nest in the red light alcove was interesting. Why that one instead of yellow or green. Maybe it had to do with the intensity of the light. Was red the hottest?
She had a scarecrow look to her, her dark clothes hung off her body. The pants too short, the shirt too long, except in the sleeves, which were a ridiculous length of about two inches above her wrists.
When she walked by me, a cascade of 20s in her hand, I whispered “It’s raining.” I meant it very innocently. Of course it wasn’t raining. How could it with a sky so blue? But she ducked her shoulders and gazed about the sky with a mixture of fear and regret.
“It’s not really raining,” I muttered. She ran to her car, her shoulders hunched and evasive, as though running away from the rain.
posted by InkSpot | 10:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home