04-08-2009, 08:29 PM
Criticism of all sorts. And I would like to know, is this at all attention-catching? Ease of reading? Thanks!
Years ago, when I had first met the man standing behind me, I might have given anything to have him so close. Maybe even my life. And now it seemed as though the situation had presented itself belatedly. The gods of irony were probably pissing themselves laughing somewhere in the distance.
Years ago, I might have secretly delighted in the fact that rain fell in transparent strips, lending the air of romanticism. With the man I had once loved so near to me, the sky was black and swirling with the diamond stars distorted by rain. Once, I might have cried, but my tears for this man had turned to dust already. I might have laughed if I had felt more like myself. I might have lashed out at him if I could find some thought to cleave to, to draw me out of the void that started in my head, engulfed my heart, and catapulted into the cold pit of my stomach. Instead all I could do was stare out into the city below and wonder why I was surprised that he’d turn on me again. After all these years and all the countless times he’d deceived me, I should have learned my lesson by now. Too little, too late it seemed.
I swung my feet slowly, crossing my heels, and suddenly I remembered the Sundays I’d spent at St. Raymond’s Episcopal Church in my youth. It probably would have served me better to pay attention to Father’s sermons and words of wisdom, but I had always been enamored of the play of shadows across the back of the pew in front of my family, and the way my shadow would meld with my mother’s whenever I kicked my legs. I had always wanted so deeply to be part of someone else, but now I knew…perhaps if I had paid any attention to those sermons, I wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.
I knew without looking that the rain had plastered my white dress shirt to me, leaving it transparent, a thin veil over my skin. And I knew that he took the sight of all that skin in with those hard green eyes. And I knew that for a moment they might soften if he allowed his mind to wander over what the sight might have meant years ago. But he was not emotive by nature. Calm, collected, disciplined – if I had been more like him, I wouldn’t be here now. I stared out across the distorted city skyline.
If I had been more like him, none of us would be here.
I held that knowledge close to me, but there was no sense of victory or vindication. Instead I felt that mocking hollowness inside of me. He was close enough now that I could hear him breathing behind me, and I regretted that sound. I regretted the expansion of my own lungs as I drew in my own breath between my chattering teeth. The utter stillness of his body behind me was evidence enough of my failure, despite my best and greatest efforts.
“Mordichai,” I whispered. I heard his arm brushing against the fabric of his coat with a coarse, wet sound.
The muzzle of the gun against the back of my head was cold and hard. I said his name again, but his fingers did not tremble although I felt the deadness in my heart expanding to envelop me.
“Does it keep you awake at night?” I asked, pressing the back of my head against the gun. His resolve didn’t change, his hold didn’t waver on the gun. “Does it play in the back of your mind at every moment?” I turned my head, twisting my neck to look at him and felt the muzzle of the gun against my temple. The lights flickered in the city skyline, and his green eyes flashed in the dark.
“Does it, Mordichai?”
My demon lover. Fifteen years ago I had given him everything…
And it still hadn’t been enough.
Years ago, when I had first met the man standing behind me, I might have given anything to have him so close. Maybe even my life. And now it seemed as though the situation had presented itself belatedly. The gods of irony were probably pissing themselves laughing somewhere in the distance.
Years ago, I might have secretly delighted in the fact that rain fell in transparent strips, lending the air of romanticism. With the man I had once loved so near to me, the sky was black and swirling with the diamond stars distorted by rain. Once, I might have cried, but my tears for this man had turned to dust already. I might have laughed if I had felt more like myself. I might have lashed out at him if I could find some thought to cleave to, to draw me out of the void that started in my head, engulfed my heart, and catapulted into the cold pit of my stomach. Instead all I could do was stare out into the city below and wonder why I was surprised that he’d turn on me again. After all these years and all the countless times he’d deceived me, I should have learned my lesson by now. Too little, too late it seemed.
I swung my feet slowly, crossing my heels, and suddenly I remembered the Sundays I’d spent at St. Raymond’s Episcopal Church in my youth. It probably would have served me better to pay attention to Father’s sermons and words of wisdom, but I had always been enamored of the play of shadows across the back of the pew in front of my family, and the way my shadow would meld with my mother’s whenever I kicked my legs. I had always wanted so deeply to be part of someone else, but now I knew…perhaps if I had paid any attention to those sermons, I wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.
I knew without looking that the rain had plastered my white dress shirt to me, leaving it transparent, a thin veil over my skin. And I knew that he took the sight of all that skin in with those hard green eyes. And I knew that for a moment they might soften if he allowed his mind to wander over what the sight might have meant years ago. But he was not emotive by nature. Calm, collected, disciplined – if I had been more like him, I wouldn’t be here now. I stared out across the distorted city skyline.
If I had been more like him, none of us would be here.
I held that knowledge close to me, but there was no sense of victory or vindication. Instead I felt that mocking hollowness inside of me. He was close enough now that I could hear him breathing behind me, and I regretted that sound. I regretted the expansion of my own lungs as I drew in my own breath between my chattering teeth. The utter stillness of his body behind me was evidence enough of my failure, despite my best and greatest efforts.
“Mordichai,” I whispered. I heard his arm brushing against the fabric of his coat with a coarse, wet sound.
The muzzle of the gun against the back of my head was cold and hard. I said his name again, but his fingers did not tremble although I felt the deadness in my heart expanding to envelop me.
“Does it keep you awake at night?” I asked, pressing the back of my head against the gun. His resolve didn’t change, his hold didn’t waver on the gun. “Does it play in the back of your mind at every moment?” I turned my head, twisting my neck to look at him and felt the muzzle of the gun against my temple. The lights flickered in the city skyline, and his green eyes flashed in the dark.
“Does it, Mordichai?”
My demon lover. Fifteen years ago I had given him everything…
And it still hadn’t been enough.