Brace Yourself

She laughed...once.

One last time.  Between the tears.  I had asked her 'why'...nearly twenty minutes ago...and had yet to receive an answer.

She had hazel eyes...a skin color that one would describe as Caramel, kissed by the Arizona sun.  Long, black hair.  Jet.  And a curved mouth that wasn't a smile, nor a frown, but reflected whatever emotion you felt - she was naturally empathetic.

And now she cried.  I knew it was one of those 'its not you it's me' things that floated on the airwaves of television and made its rounds on the comedy circuits so often that the honest emotion behind those words had been forever lost.  Silence sufficed. 

I had found her on the beach one day, years ago.  Her toes in the sand.  She was wearing a green bikini...an orange umbrella barely shading her long legs.  She smiled at me and that was enough.

One candlelight dinner.  One walk through the Farmer's Market in Santa Monica.  One long night on July 4th in a lifeguard tower where no one would find us.  One trip to Paris.  I remember the sunglasses, big, Gucci.  The oversized hat she wanted to wear because it made her fell like Holly Golightly.  The way she would talk in an accent that seemed natural wherever we were.

I found a happiness that existed only in the medium i worked in.  The silver screen.  Celluloid.  Idyllic to the point of predictability of plot.  What would come next?  A perfect date?  Of course.  She has perfect friends...she loves my friends?  Of course.  Her family?  Perfect.  Us.  Perfect.  Our story?  A tragedy.

I find that her heart is lighter than i had known.  The winged angel she is, was exactly as i had dreamed.  I should have seen this coming.  If she really is all that I dreamed of she wouldn't be here right now.  I'm surprised she allowed me to tag along this long...

She can paint the perfect sunrise with the wave of her smooth arms.  She dances on long legs, twisting a small waist to greet the light with her colorful laughter.  Every morning has been for her, in my eyes. 

And this final sunset, it would seem, is for me...the light in her has somehow faded, and i feel like its my fault.

She turns away.  The soft lines on her back, her smooth muscles, twitch as she sobs.  My bags are packed. 

She can't watch me leave.

I didn't do anything.  I want to scream.  I don't want it to end. I don't want....

I'm sitting in a shitty diner somewhere off the 10 in Arizona, near the California border.  The burger is wet.  Wet.  The coke is flat.  my heart is broken.

I'll have to call my agent...if he still is that.  Doubtful.
I'll have to call my old friends...if they still are.

I'll have to kick George out of my house.  Or at least slowly push him out.  He's been comfortable there...for almost two years.

I'll have to not get distracted, like i did last time.

I'll have to avoid the beach. 

My shirt.

it still smells like her.

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[africanuck]

Welcome back old friend.