“And Marc, when they’re gone, like your father, nothing on or of this earth can ever replace them. Ever. You choke. You try to breathe. You suffer. And time passes. It’s difficult. They provide you with your breath, your heart resides in their chest, and theirs resides in you. They are your heartbeat. And, because your heart dies with them, and you remain, you suffer a life of loving yourself. With a heart inside of you that belongs to someone else, and is incapable of loving others. Because that heart, Marc, loves only you.”
And it made sense. The statement that I had heard so many times. My heart belongs to someone else.
I looked at my watch. 8:00. Things happen. I opened the refrigerator. I removed a slice of lasagna from the dish in the refrigerator. I ate it cold. I brushed my teeth. I looked at my watch. 8:10. I walked into my bedroom and changed my shirt. Looking in the mirror, I felt at peace with who I had become. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I looked at my watch. 8:15. I placed the dirty shirt in the laundry room. The doorbell rang. I ran my fingers through my hair. I opened the door, and there she stood. She was crying. I felt sick.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My father,” she responded. “I posted something on Twitter about you. Not much, just talking about you. How you make me feel,” she wiped away her tears, and continued, “someone said something to someone, who said something to someone else, and then someone’s parent called my father and said I was dating a white boy.”
She stood there, in my arms, with my heart in her chest, and sobbed. I held her. She hurt. I hurt with her. She placed her head on my shoulder. I ran my fingers through her silky smooth black hair. Tall, thin and curvaceous, she stood, looking back into my eyes. “I’m sorry, Britney. But. Know this. I cannot imagine a day without you in it.”
She smiled. We kissed. “I’m scared,” she said looking at me with her beautiful brown eyes.
“Of what?” I looked into her beautiful eyes when I spoke.
“That…” she responded. And her mouth stayed open. But. No sound.
And then, she continued, “I’m afraid I love you.”
I reached to the back of the chair, and got my leather coat. I wrapped her in it. “Britney,” I said, “I love you, and I am not afraid.” I placed my hands on each side of her face and looked into her eyes, and continued, “Together, we can get through anything. You’re Egyptian, I’m American. You’re Orthodox, I’m Catholic. But, we are both human. Your ethnicity or religion does not come into play. Not to me. How I feel does.”
She looked at me. Pulling my coat tight to her body, she spoke. “I feel the same way, Marc, but I am afraid my father doesn’t. Nor will he. But, that doesn’t change the way I feel. I love you. You love me, let’s just be together. Tonight. And every night. I want every night to end with you in my arms.”
I slowly walked toward the bedroom. She followed. I looked at my watch. 8:30. “When do you have to be home?” I asked.
“11:00,” she said. We embraced. I held her. Time passed. We fell on the bed. And there we remained. I touched her face with my fingers. We kissed. She smiled. I took off my shirt and began to lie beside her.
“I like looking at your body,” she said.
“Thank you. I like looking at you, period,” I responded. She removed her shirt. She asked for help with her bra. We embraced. Our skins touched. I felt her heart beat against my chest. I felt my heart beating. Our heartbeats became one. One heartbeat. We became one. Time passed. I looked at my watch. 10:10. I stood. She remained on the bed, defining beauty.
“It’s getting close to eleven, baby. You should probably get up,” I said, looking for my shirt. I ran my hands through my hair.
“Stand right there,” she said. “Don’t move.” I stood. She reached to the side of the bed, and got her phone from her purse. She held it at arm’s length. “Don’t move,” she said.
“I heard you,” I responded. I stood. She took three photos. “I wish I could paint a picture of you,” I said.
“Do you paint?” she asked.
“No,” I responded, “But I wish I could. I would paint a picture of you right now, lying there without your shirt. I could stand here, Britney, and admire you for all of what is forever. You make me want to cry. But. That part of me is broken.”
“I know,” she said. “I know.”
“Take a picture of me, and you can look at it whenever you want. You can practice, and one day, maybe you can paint it,” she offered.
I agreed. I picked up my leather jacket, reached into the pocket, and retrieved my phone. And… I took a photo of the most beautiful woman in the world. “You define beauty, Britney. And you do so by merely existing,” I said. “All you have to do to be this beautiful is just be yourself.”
“I wish I was as skinny as the rest of the girls. As pretty,” she said.
“You weigh 110 pounds, Britney. You are thin, almost too thin. We have discussed this. You are more beautiful than any other woman on this earth. Ever. And, the more I know you, the more beautiful you become. I love you,” I responded, shirtless.
“I love you,” she responded.
“I love you back,” I promised.
She smiled. We got dressed, and with my heart in her chest, the most beautiful woman in the world walked to the door, out to her car, and home to a father. That night, of all nights, I wrapped myself in my leather coat, and fell asleep.
A boy and a girl are standing in a field of flowers. She, wearing a little black dress, holds his hand. He, dressed in nothing but swim shorts, smiles a smile of a lifetime. Their hands are empty, all they hold is each other. A train slowly inches down the tracks as it approaches an intersection a mile from where the couple stands.
“Come on, let’s get on that train,” he said.
“How? It’s moving,” she replied.
Looking intently into the girl’s eyes, he speaks, “I’ve seen it in an old movie. It’s easy. You run toward the train, and then run, in the same direction as the train is moving, and just jump in. Look…,” pointing to the train, he continues… “every second or third car has the door open. It’s going West. Probably all the way to Los Angeles.”
Through the flowers, they run toward the train. As the train slows, they run alongside. He jumps effortlessly into the car. On his hands and knees, holding his arm out the door, he offers her a hand. She reaches up, grasps his hand, and jumps inside. Together, hand in hand, they look out the door of the train car into the field of flowers and smile.
“Are you cold?” she asks.
“No, not at all,” he responds. “Are you?”
“No, I feel perfect. I love you,” she smiles and leans toward the boy, her face approaching his.
“I love you back,” he says, leaning toward her.
Their lips touch. Wrapping his arms around the girl, they embrace, kissing for miles. The train passes through the fields of flowers, various colors and shapes can be seen through the train door. The couple continues to kiss. With her heart, protected by him, and his, protected by her, they gaze into each other’s eyes. Two people, in a world all alone, sit on a train and love each other. Naturally. Completely. Without effort.
The boy leans against the inner wall of the train car, and admires the beauty of the girl. The girl, against the opposite wall, sits and smiles, but doesn’t notice the boy looking at her. She runs her hands through her hair, and looks out the train door at the fields of flowers - as the train passes through them. She, filled with a love that lasts a lifetime, is content. For once in her life, she sits, satisfied with who she has become.
The train slows. The boy looks at his watch. The watch had no hands. The boy looks away, and notices a leather briefcase in the corner of the car of the train. He walks to the briefcase, and picks it up. As the girl watches the flowers pass through the train door, he carries the briefcase back to where he was sitting, and sits back down. He places the briefcase onto the floor and opens it. A hand written note sits on top of a leather divider. The boy picks u
p the note and reads it to himself
TO THE PERSON WHO FINDS THIS CASE:
I HAVE WORKED A LIFETIME,
AND HAVE NO ONE TO LOVE.
PLEASE USE THE CONTENTS OF THIS CASE -
LOVING THE PERSON WHO
LOVES YOU THE MOST.
The girl turns from the flowers, and sees the boy with the case. “What is it, Marc?” the girl asks.
The boy, without speaking, hands her the note, and lifts the leather divider. Hundred dollar bills, tightly bound, and marked by $10,000 bands, fill the case. A key on a necklace lay on top of the money. The boy closes the case, and checks the key. The key operates the two locks of the case. The boy sets the key aside. The boy counts. Left to right, top to bottom, and lifts the bills, checking the depth.
“It appears to be about $900,000, if this is marked correctly. Nine times two. Eighteen times five. Yes, nine hundred thousand dollars. Did you read the note?” He responds. Leaving the case open, the boy stands and walks toward her.
“Yes, I did,” she responds, handing the note back to him.
The boy takes the note, and places it in the case. The boy closes the case, takes the key, locks the case, and places the key, held by the necklace, around the neck of the girl. The key hangs between her breasts, hidden by the black dress that she was wearing.
Embracing the girl, the boy looks into the girl’s eyes. They kiss. “I love you,” The boy, looking into the girl’s eyes again, leans back, runs his hands along the girl’s face, and through her hair.
“I love you back,” the girl responds.
Time passes. The train stops. The couple, standing together, looks outside the train door. On the left, they see a beach. On the right, they see a hill with a large sign on the side. The sign is one they have seen before, and clearly marks their new location: ‘HOLLYWOOD’ . They step off of the train, briefcase in hand, and begin to walk toward the beach…..
I turned and looked at my watch. 6:05 am. I got up out of bed, walked into the kitchen, and read the newspaper. I finished my coffee, and ran my hands through my hair. I will spend the rest of my life with this girl. One way or another. We had what it would take to survive anything.
Love that just is.
Chapter 7
Cups
DAVID. Sometimes when I woke up, I immediately felt like I wanted to go back to sleep and forget who I was. Other days, I felt like jumping out of bed and rushing through the day, eager to be me. Today was the latter. I woke up refreshed and ready to meet the day. It was sunny and it was Saturday. My parents were out shopping, and the day couldn’t be any better. Being home alone could be so satisfying. One of the advantages, I suppose, of being an only child. I was planning on getting some exercise, taking a shower, and going to Cups for a frozen yogurt. This day was going to be grand.
Throughout the morning, I found it increasingly difficult to contain my excitement for the frozen yogurt. I just loved the yogurt, and loved the atmosphere. I wondered who may be there when I arrived. It was, of course, Saturday. On Saturday mornings, I would often see Michelle and her friend Brianna there. If they were there today, I would speak to her. Her eyes were so pretty. I have always felt that the eyes don’t lie. If someone smiles, and their eyes smile with them, they are truly smiling inside. The eyes don’t lie. Michelle’s eyes smiled with her.
As I made my bed, John Coltrane played. On Saturdays the wrinkles in my bed are more noticeable. The sun is up, and my room is much brighter. Brighter than the weekdays. Weekdays, when I get up and make my bed, it is much earlier. And dark. Today, the sunshine on the blanket made the wrinkles stand out like little valleys of wrinkled fabric. After a little more stretching and pulling than a normal weekday, I was off to Cups for a yogurt.
Pulling my car into the parking lot of Cups, I saw a Camaro. I hoped it was Michelle’s, but I couldn’t remember what color her car was. I’m certain I have a brain tumor. A brain tumor would cause problems with my memory. I have a brain tumor. At such a young age. Walking into the store, I felt my head. It felt normal. Not enlarged. I should be a scientist. A fabric scientist. And invent a wrinkle-free fabric. If I didn’t die of a tumor, I would invent the perfect fabric. Wrinkle-free. For my bed. And legs. I made a mental note, and grabbed the door.
Upon entering, I saw her in the corner at the table where she normally sat. She was there with Brianna, as she always was, laughing and talking. There were two boys there from school, but I did not know for sure who they were. I recognized their faces, but could not recall their names. Just like the color of Michelle’s car, I had forgotten. Twice in one day. Accelerated aging. Probably a chromosomal disorder. Or some form of deficiency. At such an early age.
Walking to get my yogurt cup to fill, I wondered if I would forget anything else today. Maybe something really important, like how to park. Or drive. Oh my God. What if, while driving home, I forgot how to turn the steering wheel? Just completely forgot, driving straight the entire afternoon. Where would I end up. The thought scared me. Depending on which direction I turned when I left, I could end up in Canada, or maybe Florida. But, if I couldn’t turn, I would just end up backing into the car behind me, and sitting there in reverse, like a fool. Unable to turn the wheel and get out of the lot. Arrested. Questioned. Diagnosed as having mental retardation. Brought on by a tumor the size of a tangerine.
I filled my yogurt cup with vanilla, turned and walked to the area where the toppings were located. Peanut butter cup pieces. Almonds. Gummie bears. I carefully picked out the red bears, and left the orange and yellow ones for someone else.
“That’ll be $6.90. Are you the guy that always picks out the red ones?” The cashier asked, pointing into my yogurt cup. Her hair was blonde, and she wore an unzipped hoodie. She was cute, but her eyes were not as pretty as Michelle’s. Michelle’s eyes were so much better.
Realizing what she had said, I felt guilty, and wondered if they had a corporate policy regarding picking out the red gummies. It shouldn’t be any different than picking out the bigger chunks of the peanut butter cup pieces, and I was never questioned about them. But, prior to today, I was never asked about the gummies either. I didn’t always get the gummies, just sometimes. She could call the police. Police scare me. They remind me of my father.
“Yes, I am. I am allergic to the other colors.”
“You’re funny. Funny and cute. What’s your name, again?” She smiled when she spoke, and that made me feel good. I liked compliments from girls. It didn’t offend me the way it may offend a boy if another boy complimented them. Girls were just girls. Sometimes, I looked at myself as a girl. Then, after a few minutes, I normally become confused and just stop thinking.
“Thank you,” I said as I retrieved my wallet. “And, I suppose you know, but I was joking. I find the other colors less satisfying than the red ones. And I don’t like all the mixed up colors in the yogurt. I just get the red gummies every other Saturday or so. I hope it’s not a huge deal,”
I handed her a ten dollar bill. While she was placing the money in the drawer, I left my cup on the counter and tugged my jeans. Both sides.
“$3.10 is your change. I guess you’re not going to tell me your name,” she frowned and bent at the waist, as if to show me more cleavage than she was already showing. The skin between her breasts had freckles. More than normal. Probably skin cancer. She obviously didn’t put sunscreen between her boobs. We would both die young. She of cancer, and I from a tumor.
“David. It’s David. I am sorry I got carried away with all of the gummie talk.”
My yogurt. I looked at my yogurt. It was melting. In a matter of minutes, Michelle would be gone, and the gummies would be swimming in a pool of melted yogurt.
“Nice to meet you, David, I am Cloe,” she offered her hand when she spoke.
“Nice to meet you Cloe,” I said as I shook her hand. Her skin was cold. She was deteriorating from the inside out. From cancer. So sad. At such a young age. “I’m going to eat this before it melts. I will ta
lk to you before I go, I promise.”
Turning back to the seating area, I was relieved to see the boys were gone from where Michelle and Brianna were sitting. I walked in their direction. While they weren’t watching, I looked down and made sure I was wrinkle free. Mentally, I chose the table beside the girls, and began to go seat myself.
“David, right? You’re alone? Sit here with us, we’re about to leave,” Michelle smiled as she spoke. When she smiled, her eyes smiled with her. Brianna, without smiling, got up and walked away, toward the restroom.
“So, how are you doing in the decision for college, Michelle?” I poked a gummie in my mouth as I asked her. Eating around strangers always made me so much more comfortable, and I often wondered if it was because I occupied my mind to chew, and chewing made me think less of what they may be thinking about me.
“I’m going to Nova, and then Drexel. I decided a few weeks ago,” she said, still smiling as she spoke.
“Villanova!” I couldn’t possibly contain my excitement. I grabbed my spoon and without even making a perfect bite, or looking at the cup, I shoveled a spoon full of yogurt into my mouth. “Tell me more.”
“Well, I am going to be a doctor, and I was accepted into their program,” she continued to smile and ran the fingers of her left hand into her hair, but they got stuck half way through. She rolled her eyes, and tugged at her hair, freeing her hand. We both laughed.
“That’s so exciting. What’s your friends name again?” I asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to make her think that I didn’t.
“Brianna. We come here almost every Saturday. Well, actually, we come here almost every day.”
“My parents get disappointed if I come here too much. They complain of the cost,” I said as I looked into my yogurt cup, making sure this bite had yogurt and peanut butter cups only. I spooned a perfect bite into my mouth, being careful not to drip on the table.
Broken People Page 7