Love me, Loudly

by Jess Kolbe

  “Please say something, Evie.”

  This is the first time I am actually able to look at him. I’m cold and disconnected. I need to be cold to survive this conversation, to survive what I’m saying and accept that it was me, that I am damaged. I can feel it, I can see he’s stuck. I can see he is having an epic panic attack, but I’m still hurting. I’m so angry, at myself for understanding his point of view and that I can’t fix this and at him for laying this on me.

  I take a deep breath and see the hurt in his eyes, gathering all my courage to be able to respond with kindness. I know how fear fucks with you. “You need to figure that out for yourself, I can’t help, I don’t have the answers, you have to decide what you want. I know what I want and it’s a fucking fairy-tale, is that you? I don’t know, but I do know it will be with someone who is equally in it with me, in fear and love. I owe you thanks for helping me to see that is a possibility, when you figure out what you want, let me know.”

  I attempt to walk past him, knowing I am going to have a meltdown, turning my back to shimmy past. His hands find my hips, and our chemistry overwhelms us both. I’m caught in the moment and my body betrays me. Feeling him behind me, my back arches and leans into him. The sensation of him against me feels excitingly safe. What are we doing? Lost in how he feels against me, hands on me, he moves to turn me, “stop, please stop, don’t do this to me.”

  Tears are falling down my face in a steady stream and I’m sobbing now. I’m begging him, please. He says “Evie, I want you, I need you.”

  I look into his eyes. He recognises my pain, the hurt on my face and steps back, apologising. I hide my face and walk towards the door, the tear between us feels physically painful. He looks defeated, sad. I manage to blurt out, “I want you too, but I want all of you, not a moment of you, figure out what you want.”

  I push the button for the garage door, as he steps back and mouths the words “I’m sorry.”

  I walk inside, straight to my bed, in sobs as my heart ache pours out of me again. I felt the goodbye, our bond broken from whatever we could have been. I don’t move from my bed until the next day, realising only in the morning that I left the shopping on the bench, and now have to work on an empty stomach, even though I’m not feeling hungry. I’m in shock again, going through the motions of the day, just functioning. Being exceptional was never going to happen today. The little girl inside me who dreamed of one day finding her knight, found him and she’s too much, he’s not ready, you’re too much. Under my surface I am a mess. How is it that he didn’t recognise love, that he thought chemistry could do that? The little girl simply adds maybe he knows we could be more and that is his fear. She still defends him. I hush her with a huge pang of pain. The demons in the background are smug fuckers, they are happy. Life proved yet again that I am damaged, I am unlovable, they win again. How could he not know those feelings don’t happen every day? Yes, a spark can happen, but that was a fucking tidal wave. It’s not a glance across a bar, it’s an earth stopping moment of mutual attraction. Hope rising out of me from somewhere. The fire roared, the trembling inside and out, that’s fucking next level. The complete body, mind and soul overwhelmed me, the felt feelings. I’m so weary. I’m still fighting trying to believe I am okay. I can be wanted. I am proud of this warrior woman who showed up. I’m making millions of different arguments in my head tearing myself apart and slowly realising I’m leading the charge in my own thoughts, so I step out. I allow them to continue without being hooked in, no debating them, no arguing. I don’t get involved in my fear chatter.

  I truly thought that finally, I had found something meaningful and I was willing to step into the woman I am, to trust me on a new level, to love the woman who faced those fears and did it anyway. For someone who had been switched off to the magic of love, this pains me so, there is a tremendous amount of truth to the saying ignorance being bliss. I was enjoying the process of us evolving. I feel like I’ve said goodbye to what may have been, while lying to myself that the scar on my heart is not too major. When someone doesn’t want to love you, a fight ensues for you to crawl your way back from your belief that you are unlovable. It marks you, carves into your soul. Undoubtedly, bent today, ‘but never broken,’ whispers my heart.

  As my own boss, I kindly give myself the rest of the week to work from home. I shower with not as many tears as yesterday, visualising my pains dripping off me down the shower drain. Reminding myself I am stronger than this, I picture little Evie and hold her hurt parts, encouraging her to hope for the future. I let her out in the shower, feeling calmer although my eyes are stinging from all the tears I shed, the acceptance again of losing him or never having him. Desperately resisting the “you’re pathetic” chant from stepping up to the plate. I have answers now and moving on seems easier.

  I look down at my nakedness, holding my curves and closing my stinging eyes. Straight away I’m picturing his hands on me, my body against his, his touch, feeling him. I’m overcome, out loud, I beg my body, ‘please,’ in an attempt to resist the sensations of him. Then with my body still feeling connected to him, pushing me, I say aloud to myself “it’s not over.” My hearts’ message to me. My hands are shaking, I’m flushed, I try to push it away and fuck I’m starting to panic, battling myself, I breathe and try to release, but it’s too late, panic sets in. It registers that I’m having a panic attack and I start shaking my hands more, trying to encourage the panic to be spent, releasing my fears, the hormones surging in my body, tremors taking control of my body. I allow and embrace the shaking, setting the energy behind my emotions free, without argument, and kindly coaching myself through, without judgement and thanking my body, nurturing her to release the emotion, knowing my body is screaming loudly at me now and I must spend the trapped energy. Using breathing and physical movement is the key for me and as soon as I can move, I start to feel better, quickly. Soften, Evie, this is big for you. Don’t work yourself, allow space to feel or your body will scream again when you’re not listening to our inner world.

  I know how to manage panic, anxiety, and not fight myself. Clearly, I was trying to convince myself to think my feelings, a common habit of mine, rather than to just feel them. I’ve been standing on these two feet for 35 years! I’ve survived a lot of storms. Evie, remember, my internal self, reminding me to calm. I reach down deep into the part of me that knows what I need to do, slowly curling into a little ball and holding myself. Nourishing my hurts, acknowledging the pain swirling around my skin, softening in thought and touch towards myself. Giving myself permission to feel overwhelmed and I need to stop attempting to think my way out and just feel.

  I go for a walk, fast, then slow, then fast, then slow, burning off those stress hormones that I’ve just released from my panic attack of anxiety.

  Everyone has a painful story, and, well, I’m not going to spend my life looking in the rear vision mirror, I’ve done that before.

  I’m grateful when the weekend arrives. Feeling renewed, I head to the beach. Although still fragile, the sun is out and warm enough for swimming. I am going to place my feet in the sand, exposing my body to the sun for some mother nature loving. I head to the local’s beach, as it’s always deserted there and a great spot for me to feel alone with Mother Nature healing my body and soul. Pausing in the dunes, the water rolling on the shore, small waves, the sound of a slight crash as the waves roll up the sand, crystal clear waters. The warmth of the sun on my body, penetrating my soul, instantly eases my thoughts. I’ve arrived at my happy place. I feel like a vampire sucking in all the goodness, sun, sand and water. A dip in the water, she’s fresh and immediately I’m alive. It’s truly refreshing. I’m covered in goosebumps outside and a smile on the inside, one only Mother Nature can give you. After a few hours of soaking in the sun, I’m not ready to leave my ocean yet, so I walk up to the local milk bar that also moonlights in coffee, to enjoy more time at the beach in this beautiful sun as it’s all the medicine I need. Strolling along in my own thoughts toward
s the shops a few streets back from the beach, it crosses my mind that I have not told anyone at all about Sam. Initially I wanted him for myself and I wasn’t ready to share him, not really having the time to even consider telling anyone. I ponder what Teddy and Cam would say, even though I’m not sure I want anyone to know. I arrive at the road in front of the shop, deep in thought, and I see everyone and their dog, have the same coffee idea as me. It’s crazy full. Walking across the road and I feel it straight away, with his eyes on me, I know it’s Sam. I’m arguing with myself: Don’t look for him. Do not avert your eyes from the shop door, Evie! I forcefully talk to myself, attempting to will my own will away and clearly failing again. Smiling slightly at myself, I look around, making eye contact. I smile. Fuck, he’s sitting with two women. I nod and say hello, like a cornered puppy that gives a little hello bark while creeping backwards into the corner, knowing there is no other way out. I keep moving. I’m quite sure he said nothing in response. I made it into the shop and for fucks sake, I haven’t seen the man in 35 years now he’s where’s fucking Wally! Everywhere. I’m relieved when a familiar face bounces over to me, connecting with some small talk, a slight banter, easing my emotional need to scream at the universe. I’m the fucking swan, again. Involved in the conversation and fucking epically screaming on the inside, panic shifting quickly to hurt, to stop this thinking, or I will cry, to willing to promise just about anything for another moment with him.

  I take a deep breath and move towards the window, only to see a very heated discussion at his table. I feel like I am imposing. I retreat to the opposite side of the café, pretending to be out of the way of the crowd while I wait for my flat white. A good old pep talk begins despite my bargaining with God, Buddha, whoever will listen, for him to choose me. I admit defeat and prepare my walk of shame. Shoulders back, eyes forward, walk immediately to the ocean. Do not stop, do not collect $200.00. Place your entire body in mother nature and let this scream out of your body into the love of the ocean. I grab my coffee and proceed with a purpose. I think both of us need to evacuate these horrible feelings. I can feel them all looking at me. I have to run. I cross the road and let myself go, I run. I don’t care how it looks. I don’t care if he sees that I am hurt. I flee the situation, leaving my dignity along the way. A big wave of emotion is barrelling down the street after me. I kick off my shoes, plant my coffee in the sand to insulate, smiling at my forethought, and launch myself at that ocean. Part of me is screaming - when did you become this woman? When did you allow a man to do this to you? I’m so frustrated with myself, it’s echoing around my head, tears are beginning, and the scream is tearing its way out of me. I just make it into the shallows when my screams are consumed by a mouthful of seawater, pained. For a while, I stay on my knees, being thrown around by the waves and I don’t care. The ocean is battering my body and each time I get up on my knees again, aided by the roll of the water. After the scream is out of my body, I stand and walk further into her, I want to feel the ocean swallow me whole and shut out the world. I swim over the rocks allowing each wave to submerge me, my tears being washed away. My body is lulled in each wave, the chill in the water soothing the heat of my pain in my heart. I feel her slowly putting me back together, feeling like I’ve expressed my hurts and in need of the soothing sun to warm my body, to nurture her, I begin to swim to shore. I’m slapped back into reality because he is sitting near my blanket.

  FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

  HIM | Twelve

  Mum rings: “I’m on my way. Be ready to go out in 15 minutes.” Click. All I can hear is the dial tone, what the? I expected a call today after Ruby was here yesterday, and I was not the best company. Actually, I was an arsehole. Well it is none of their business. I can see I’m being a dick.

  Going for the run last night has cleared away a bit of my stupid, even though I can’t seem to stop the train wreck. I shower, and Evie haunts me, my cock aching. I get my shit together, just as I hear the toot from Mums car. Halfway down the stairs I realise just how much of an ambush this is as Ruby is in the front seat, fuck. It’s now 6 months since we lost Dad and it’s been tough for everyone. To say Mum and Ruby have struggled is an understatement. It’s a mess, just a fucking shit storm I’d like to think I’ve managed to keep my shit storm at bay and take care of the farm, my business and the two of them as best as I can. The toll of losing Dad has aged Mum. She has sadness in her eyes now and struggles with loneliness. She was with Dad since she was 16 years old. A lifetime of loving each other, gone in a flash, just gone. She has to also look at me, the spitting image of him, and the one who killed him.

  They are my responsibility now, and I am not going to take shit if this turns into a family fucking ambush. I’m outnumbered now, a painful jab from the loss of Dad, hits me in the chest like a fucking brick. I’m so fucking angry all the time and I don’t want anyone near me.

  I jump in the back. Mum’s chatting away, driving us down the coast. I realise, we are heading towards Evie’s and I’m trying to keep my shit together, why am I so fucking emotional suddenly? The weight, like a ball and chain, forcing the weight of it all backdown, how can this be happening to me? They probably think this is about Dad and, well, it’s not. I don’t want to hurt Mum because it’s not. Fuck, they are going to want to talk and talk and talk, bloody women. Honestly, I’m so fucked up, who knows what’s going on. Ruby and Mum are the gold standards of farmer’s wives gossip heads! The harmless kind, but when they get on to something, pray not to be the target. They are relentless when they sniff something out, and clearly, they already think they are onto something with me. It is kind of nice that they are resuming their harassing of the men in the family ways. It actually feels nice, horribly, gut-wrenchingly, nice.

  My focus returns to the conversation. Mum’s banging on about chocolate eclairs, Dad’s favourite. She’s heard this place makes the best on the coast. This is something Dad would have done, kidnapped you for an adventure to a random bakery to test out the delights, at times causing more haphazard adventures. It’s nice to remember those trips, a genuinely addicted man to his sweet bakery treats. Even though he really was more addicted to adventuring as a family, from cheese factories to country bakeries. Often the escapades resulted in mishaps, a flat tyre becoming a lesson for Sam in how to change a tyre while Dad gives you shit and the other two giggle away like school children.

  A smile attempts to creep out of me. A wave of anger follows shuddering through me, pushing it all away. I force myself back to him, back to my memories, deeply painful and comforting as they are. Some of our adventures didn’t work out as anticipated and Dad never seemed to care. He loved the unexpected, experiencing the unknown. He would just stand back and smile like he didn’t have a care in the world and time didn’t matter, if only he knew. The car is silent. We are all in our own memories of Dad, a man robbed of his life too young. The lump is rising in my throat. I push it down, swallowing hard, clinching my fists and attempt to talk to Mum about the farm. She is not having any of it. We arrive to a little café that appears out of nowhere, finding a table. I go to place the order and thank the bejesus there were three eclairs left. Holy shit, that could have gone even more wayward. It makes me feel comforted that Dad is sort of here to soften the blow that is coming from these two, with the sugary goodness beholden in an eclair. My anger subsides. Fuck, I miss him. He’d know what to do about Evie. One beer, the shed, done. Why did he have to fucking die? Why did he do that to me? On my way back to the family intervention, I look away from the glaring eye of my mother and down the street. I see her, frozen to the pavement. She looks so good. I use all my might to not run towards her. I’m stopped on the steps, watching those hips. My god, she’s gorgeous, what the fuck am I doing? Those curves coming towards me. My hands stretch out in the memory of her body, those hips I want to grab hold of. She is a woman, strong and yet so vulnerable. She’s lost in her thoughts again, her golden tan, hair wild and curly, how I would love to hold it back and allow her wild to come out a
ll over me. Those hips have me hypnotized. I’m rudely shaken back into reality by Ruby calling my name. I’m stopped dead in the middle of the outdoor seating area, spellbound. I walk to the table, failing to compose myself. I sit, unable to take my eyes from her. I want her to see me, internally begging, Evie, look up, feel me, look up. She catches my eye, she heard me. I almost stand, resisting and fighting with myself, fucking frozen, speechless. I want her. Why am I doing this? Why am I fighting myself, why am I lying to myself? No woman has ever done this to me before. My heart wants her, the thought shunting me into a silent mind. She’s so polite, smiles, a nod hello, at Mum and Ruby, graceful, dignified. I’m the fucking idiot staring at her mouth open, dumb arse!

  She’s perfect, my perfect, and I’ve fucked it up. She’s too much, I can’t handle it, she needs a strong man, not this fucking weakness. I’m aching all over, yearning to feel her, fuck, I’m with Mum! My mind is racing with nothing and everything at once. I’m suddenly embarrassed, feeling the burning sensation of Ruby and Mum’s eyes on me. Avoiding this is not going to work now, nowhere to hide. It begins politely enough. The first blow comes: “Who’s that? She looks like a lovely lady.”

  Ruby jumps straight to “she seems different to your usual type?”

  Without thinking, I snap at Ruby. “Type, I didn’t know I had one! It doesn’t matter, she wouldn’t want a bar of me!” I’m so defensive and I don’t want to be, I am so angry, why am I doing this?

  The chocolate eclairs arrive, and I stare at it, feeling the pressure to share. I’m not ready, it’s all too much, everything is too much. My thoughts sound so stupid now that I have to say them out loud. I attempt to piece together my reasons. She needs a strong man, not a weak one, thoughts rolling on a loop in my mind. In response to Ruby, I say quietly, “there is nothing usual about Evie.”