oneword.com: convertible
I wrote this a hell of a long time ago--it's been saved as a draft for at least eighteen months. It's inspired by a song.
That's how long it's been since we last spoke. It's been longer since we've seen each other. How long it's been since you've rolled up to my dorm building in the beat up convertible that I can't drive, I can't remember...
It doesn't matter, though. I hop in as though we still do this every Saturday, and as you make the turn off campus and head into town I sigh and let my head fall limply back.
~~~
We aren't staying in town today.
At first you drive towards the coffeehouse, but then seem to change your mind, and turn around again. You narrow your gaze, clearly dissatisfied with something. Maybe everything. Not me, though. You only look at me once, but though mountains stand between your seat and mine, your eyes tell me that we are still us.
That's all I need to know, really.
So I say nothing as you finally slip onto one of the many rural highways in this part of the state, not caring where it will take us---it doesn't seem to matter much anymore.
~~~
"I actually didn't think you were coming this time."
"Shut up."
We keep driving.
~~~
The sun spills over us, turning our hair into shining glory and warming the sticky brass housekeys that are clenched in my hand.
~~~
At some point, clouds turn the blue sky gray and shield our eyes from the sun. We keep driving. Neither of us knows where, or why. Just that if we don't keep driving, we are going to lose each other.
So we drive on.
~~~
It starts to rain.
~~~
At some point you decide you are done with silence. You keep your eyes on the road and your voice as steady as possible.
"You wanna turn the radio on?"
I flick a button or two and twist the knob through thick white static until I come across probably the only station that services this part of nowhere. The song is about a man who is tired, but can't ever sleep because there is something he can't get out of his head; he can't stop thinking about it, and he doesn't know what to do, because all he wants is a little peace of mind.
We listen to the song in silence. When it's over, you reach across my lap without looking at me and wrench the keys from my grasp.
"I'm not."
Automatically, you turn my arms soft-side up. I let you do it, not surprised that you ignored my words. I'm the only thing you don't trust me with. You never really have.
The skin there is white, except where jagged stripes of faded brown mark my past digressions. You release me with a sigh I can barely hear, and grip the wheel so tightly your knuckles strain against your skin.
~~~
"You still care."
"I said shut up."
"What if I don't want to shut up?"
"Just do it. Please."
Without warning you punch the radio, evidently frustrated by the static that has overwhelmed the music. I obediently fall silent and look away, half hypnotized by the play of curving power lines across my vision, half wondering when and how you got into the habit of punching things. I'd never seen you so violent before.
But things change, I guess. I don't know why. They just do.
~~~
We keep driving.
~~~
"Is everything going to be different, now?"
You remain silent for a long time.
"I don't know."
I ponder this. "Sure you do."
You sigh. "How do you mean?"
"I don't know..."
"You mean for us?"
"...Maybe."
You're silent again. When you speak, it's with barely more than a whisper.
"I..." Your voice cracks. "No. God, no. Fuck the rest of it." I can hear your tears. I turn away from you slightly so you can't see mine.
Somehow you manage keep us from running off the road. The tears gradually cease, and our breathing returns to normal. I tentatively switch the radio back on, and this time the music pours out clear and strong.
~~~
Somehow, I can feel us start to relax. The clouds roll away in front of us, and we chase after them, pressing hard against the sun.
A hint of a smile bends your mouth. My own grin takes up half my face as I stand up slightly in my seat, letting the rain pour over me. Laughing, I tilt my head back and shake my hair like a dog.
You allow me my moment of happy idiocy, then reach up and pull me back down. "You're so retarded," you remark, shaking your head. And it's true; I know I am. But you're grinning now, and that's worth all the damning stupidity I possess. It's been so long since I've seen you this happy.
That's when I realize that everything is going to be okay.
Words by WildGoose
Read 872 times
Written on 2010-06-27 at 06:49
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I wrote this a hell of a long time ago--it's been saved as a draft for at least eighteen months. It's inspired by a song.
Radio
Eight weeks.That's how long it's been since we last spoke. It's been longer since we've seen each other. How long it's been since you've rolled up to my dorm building in the beat up convertible that I can't drive, I can't remember...
It doesn't matter, though. I hop in as though we still do this every Saturday, and as you make the turn off campus and head into town I sigh and let my head fall limply back.
~~~
We aren't staying in town today.
At first you drive towards the coffeehouse, but then seem to change your mind, and turn around again. You narrow your gaze, clearly dissatisfied with something. Maybe everything. Not me, though. You only look at me once, but though mountains stand between your seat and mine, your eyes tell me that we are still us.
That's all I need to know, really.
So I say nothing as you finally slip onto one of the many rural highways in this part of the state, not caring where it will take us---it doesn't seem to matter much anymore.
~~~
"I actually didn't think you were coming this time."
"Shut up."
We keep driving.
~~~
The sun spills over us, turning our hair into shining glory and warming the sticky brass housekeys that are clenched in my hand.
~~~
At some point, clouds turn the blue sky gray and shield our eyes from the sun. We keep driving. Neither of us knows where, or why. Just that if we don't keep driving, we are going to lose each other.
So we drive on.
~~~
It starts to rain.
~~~
At some point you decide you are done with silence. You keep your eyes on the road and your voice as steady as possible.
"You wanna turn the radio on?"
I flick a button or two and twist the knob through thick white static until I come across probably the only station that services this part of nowhere. The song is about a man who is tired, but can't ever sleep because there is something he can't get out of his head; he can't stop thinking about it, and he doesn't know what to do, because all he wants is a little peace of mind.
We listen to the song in silence. When it's over, you reach across my lap without looking at me and wrench the keys from my grasp.
"I'm not."
Automatically, you turn my arms soft-side up. I let you do it, not surprised that you ignored my words. I'm the only thing you don't trust me with. You never really have.
The skin there is white, except where jagged stripes of faded brown mark my past digressions. You release me with a sigh I can barely hear, and grip the wheel so tightly your knuckles strain against your skin.
~~~
"You still care."
"I said shut up."
"What if I don't want to shut up?"
"Just do it. Please."
Without warning you punch the radio, evidently frustrated by the static that has overwhelmed the music. I obediently fall silent and look away, half hypnotized by the play of curving power lines across my vision, half wondering when and how you got into the habit of punching things. I'd never seen you so violent before.
But things change, I guess. I don't know why. They just do.
~~~
We keep driving.
~~~
"Is everything going to be different, now?"
You remain silent for a long time.
"I don't know."
I ponder this. "Sure you do."
You sigh. "How do you mean?"
"I don't know..."
"You mean for us?"
"...Maybe."
You're silent again. When you speak, it's with barely more than a whisper.
"I..." Your voice cracks. "No. God, no. Fuck the rest of it." I can hear your tears. I turn away from you slightly so you can't see mine.
Somehow you manage keep us from running off the road. The tears gradually cease, and our breathing returns to normal. I tentatively switch the radio back on, and this time the music pours out clear and strong.
~~~
Somehow, I can feel us start to relax. The clouds roll away in front of us, and we chase after them, pressing hard against the sun.
A hint of a smile bends your mouth. My own grin takes up half my face as I stand up slightly in my seat, letting the rain pour over me. Laughing, I tilt my head back and shake my hair like a dog.
You allow me my moment of happy idiocy, then reach up and pull me back down. "You're so retarded," you remark, shaking your head. And it's true; I know I am. But you're grinning now, and that's worth all the damning stupidity I possess. It's been so long since I've seen you this happy.
That's when I realize that everything is going to be okay.
Words by WildGoose
Read 872 times
Written on 2010-06-27 at 06:49
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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